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 Posted: Thu May 23, 2013 10:43 am
The blackened sky was marred with stars. He could snuff out a few of those.
Perhaps his partner for the night would agree.
The wind screeched into the cracked window of an abandoned car, and roared its way back out. The trees bent silently to its will, with their leaves sounding uncannily like cracking bones as they were pitted against one another. Even the stray cats and dogs, abandoning docile lives and predictable companionship, hid away into the welcoming alcoves of the night. Maybe their intuition brought them home, or the whispers of the coming battle sent them to the sidelines to watch. Destiny City fell into unearthly silence, the harbinger of a war.
Bischofite stood atop the apex of a house, a silent bastion against the wind that tore angrily at his uniform. He liked this weather. The howl of the wind obscured his quiet footfalls, and his malevolent intentions. Perhaps someone would die tonight... Perhaps a senshi, or a knight. Perhaps a lone child. Perhaps himself.
Mortality was such a thrilling concept.
Despite his indulgence in the night, in the universe's quiet urgings toward entropy, he promised Benitoite he would meet with his partner, the blonde's underling. As much as he wanted to listen to the tellings of the timeless tides, the roiling wind, he was already late. He lacked any compunction for it; Natron would simply have to accept his late arrival and move on with the task at hand. For now, he felt replete with the private understanding of the world, of fate.
Bischofite would have to move on soon, lest he disrupt the perfect clockwork of destiny.
The warehouse wasn't far, and it certainly wasn't remarkable. The building fell into disrepair long ago, its lopsided maw gaping in silent horror, silent recognition of the crimes housed within it. It stood a half-charred husk from a moment's recklessness, resulting in the deaths of six faceless workers. Sometimes the wind would part from it a few flecks of ash, carry them around the city as if to tag its surroundings with the aftermath of mutilation. Somehow the warehouse roof remained intact, if only as a final barrier of shame to conceal its sorrows from the rest of the world.
And along with that, a certain captain. Bischofite knew little about him, aside from his weapon and a curious comment left by Benitoite. Apparently the man, Natron, wore tinfoil hats in an attempt to prevent alien assault or some misguided principle. The fact remained that this bizarre, rather unpredictable man, was his superior by some stroke of luck. Perhaps irony propelled him to that position. Regardless, Bischofite felt a chaotic, almost warm, signature coming from the heart of the warehouse, and he assumed it stemmed from Natron.
Bischofite descended from the rooftops, though his grace was lacking. Despite the revelations that greeted him while powered, he still lacked the experience to implement them. Perhaps Natron could fix that, despite his skewed disposition. Nevertheless, he'd find out soon.
Remnants of ash and the charred viscera of the building crunched beneath his feet as he walked inside. It was dim, almost unusually warm. He felt enveloped in the hot, dying breath of the building. He considered calling the captain's name, but the man should've felt him by now. "I'm not going home until we'f killed someone tonight."
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Posted: Sat May 25, 2013 7:03 pm
Captain Natron did not consider himself impatient. He wasn't a saint for waiting, certainly, but he felt he had a fairly high degree of tolerance for things. Hell, his own tendency to get lost in thought or to come up with what he might deem a "better idea" meant that sometimes, in his civilian life, he was late to things himself. He had been working on that most of his life; it wasn't likely to change.
But in his duties as a Negaverse officer, he was always prompt. If he was to meet someone, especially someone of higher rank, he was always there early. (There was a certain degree of paranoia involved - God knew how Painite would take to tardiness. Not well, he assumed.)
Being made to wait in a dark warehouse by a Lieutenant was definitely frustrating him. The only reason he'd stayed as long as he had was Benitoite - he respected the General, and didn't want to have to tell him that he'd blown off this meeting. Plus, it would be just as disrespectful as what this damn Lieutenant was doing to him now.
He was pleased to finally feel an energy signature, and was half-tempted to teleport to it as soon as it came into range - scare the s**t out of the kid, he hoped - but he opted, instead, to wait a little longer for him to finally come inside. Only then did he teleport across the building from his position at its heart to the entrance, directly behind Bischofite.
"Well, I can certainly respect your enthusiasm," he said. And really, he did. It was always nice to have someone who was willing to kill. "Lieutenant Bischofite, I presume?" He was trying, really hard, not to yell at him for being late. That would be starting off on a very poor foot.
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Posted: Sun May 26, 2013 8:59 am
Bischofite jumped immediately upon hearing the captain behind him. Instantly he regretted it - seething rage bubbled up from within his chest, and he silently cursed himself for displaying weakness. He silently cursed Natron for ambushing him like that. He silently cursed Benitoite for setting him up for a patrol with this man.
"...Yes," he managed, through gritted teeth.
Finally Bischofite turned around to examine his assigned partner - no, superior. Red hair, green eyes. His uniform's overcoat resembled a sports jacket in a way, especially with the sleeves pushed up near his elbows. His gloves only facilitated that look. The rest of his outfit looked slightly more intimidating - form fitting pants, complete with two belts; and knee-high boots that lacked excessive detail. However, the piece de resistance was his ball and chain, which looked appropriate to cave someone's face in. Perhaps this man was worth listening to on their assigned journey together.
Then again, looks can be deceiving.
"You must be Captain Natron," he declared with little inflection to his voice. He didn't offer a salute. "Do you haf' any idea where we're going?" From what Benitoite told him, this conspiracy theorist had a few screws loose. Idly he wondered if the redhead knew the scope of their assigned duties that night.
Bischofite stood with his hands against the backs of his hips, and his weight shifted to one side. "I don't sink you want to stand here and make introductory speeches. Zis place is disgusting, as I'm sure you'f noticed, from my keeping you waiting." No apologies. "Let's get out of here. Benitoite spoke highly of you - I'd like to see why."
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Posted: Sat Jun 01, 2013 8:57 pm
Natron managed to suppress his amusement down to just a grin, because laughing at Bischofite's shock would probably be fairly cruel.
He took a moment to examine the Lieutenant, tilting his head to the side. Yes, he certainly looked battle-ready, lack of apparent weapon aside. If Natron could do damage with a dodgeball, this kid could manage it with his bare fists, he was sure. Plus, he had to admit, the war paint on his face added a certain...dangerous flare.
"Tonight, we are going to find a Senshi. And you are going to kill her." Natron explained, his eyebrows slightly raised. If the kid balked, then he knew he wasn't worth his time, but something told him he wasn't going to. "We'll try the park first; there's always someone there. If we happen to find someone on the way..." He shrugged. Whoever their victim was, he or she would have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that was that.
He turned to walk out. "Since you're obviously eager to get started, tardiness aside," his first slightly biting comment so far - he really was frustrated, he was just...trying not to be, "let's move." Standing around and talking wasn't going to get this done.
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Posted: Thu Jun 06, 2013 6:22 am
Finally, the orders were out. He would have his moment to end a life, to observe someone's instinctual self, their true self. He'd be able to learn of a person's deepest desires without suffering any social repercussions for it. Perhaps most importantly, he could watch mortality in action. Bischofite grew fond of this idea.
Bischofite listened intently, quietly. It wasn't something he was normally apt to do, but when there was excitement involved, he made exceptions. However, his interest soon waned at the mention of a hunt. Did that mean he was to spend ceaseless hours with some stranger, following him around like a lost puppy and hoping to cross an energy signature? He much preferred lying in wait; wasn't there some way to draw senshi to them? Regardless, he didn't have a choice in the matter. Benitoite urged them to patrol together, and unless Bischofite wanted to deal with the blonde's ire and haughty remarks, he needed to fulfill the task.
At least he might have an interesting souvenir to take home.
He huffed before reluctantly following Natron. "It's not like zis uniform comes wis' a watch. How was I to know what time it is?" It wasn't like he could erect a moon dial; it was often proven that those curious trinkets never worked.
Bischofite quickly drew the conclusion that he shouldn't have agreed to this endeavor. Not only was he paired up with an obsessively punctual captain, but he had to waste hours wandering around the city like a lunatic meandering in an insane asylum. How was that supposed to hone his skills? How were minute quips from the captain supposed to benefit him? These thoughts urged him to grind his teeth while he walked slightly behind Natron.
At least the cool night air wicked away the stuffiness of the abandoned warehouse. Now in the reaches of the city, the two had ample room to move without colliding with ashen material or stirring up soot. Perhaps that was the only perk to the evening - escaping the burnt husk of the building.
Bischofite followed mostly in silence, preoccupied with his thoughts surrounding his predicament. His mind quickly strayed from Natron to his situation as a whole - a single entity invited to and trapped inside some ancient war that he'd never even heard about beforehand. Now he met copious amounts of strangers, both friendly (in the loosest sense) and hostile, in situations he never even dreamed of. And now - they were to commit an act normally befitting of 20 years in prison, yet they would never be prosecuted for their crimes, if he understood Benitoite correctly. What a bizarre new world.
Finally, when they reached residential areas again, Bischofite ventured to speak. "What do you sink of Benitoite?" He may as well pry about the terribly short boy to kill time. After all, they may be wandering for a while, and come across an empty park. No guarantees there.
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Posted: Fri Jun 07, 2013 8:23 pm
Natron made a soft frustrated noise. "Find a way to check the time. Pack a watch when you power up, break into a store and steal one, harass random civilians on the street for the time...I'm not picky about the methods, but do try to be more punctual in the future." He said dryly. He continued walking, picking up the pace a bit.
The sooner he was done with this frustrating Lieutenant, the sooner he could tell Benitoite he'd done his duties and they could be done with all this. The park was close enough, and there was guaranteed to be someone there.
He was actually a little surprised when Bischofite spoke, and he turned and considered for a moment. "He is a friend, in uniform and out," the Captain said, "and I respect what he has accomplished."
"That I respect him, in fact, is the only reason I'm here." Training Lieutenants wasn't a duty Natron had gotten to deep into yet, and he was starting to regret dipping his toes into that particular pool.
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Posted: Sat Jun 08, 2013 4:13 pm
"What makes you sink I'd enjoy being trained by someone like you? If I wanted to be treated like s**t ze whole time, I'd let you know. I'm more inclined to ******** around for ze rest of ze night and tell Benitoite zat we completed our patrol togezzer wis' nossing to show for it." He seethed from Natron's easy dismissal, due to something as infinitesimal as lateness. How was that supposed to convince him to respect the man? Did Benitoite even know anything about pairing people up like this? Obviously not, if his experience with Natron had anything to do with it.
He stopped before they reached the edge of the park. "I don't care if he's your friend. Where I'm from, it's considered extremely inappropriate to bring your personal life to work wis' you. Where I'm from, you shouldn't even know him outside of uniform." The only reason he brought it up was to take a jab at Natron, as unwarranted as it was. "And ze way I see it - we shouldn't even be patrolling togezzer. We obviously don't get along." Bischofite grinned, and extended his hands outward in a shrug. "So let's just part ways, and call zis do-"
An unforeseen kidney shot crippled him mid-sentence, and he stumbled forward with a groan. Upon turning around, he witnessed the source of the unwarranted attack: a senshi, standing in all her disgusting glory, wearing an outfit highly adorned in beads and feathers. It came in three colors: a chestnut that matched her curled hair, a deep blue accent, and an ivory bodice. Were she not an enemy, he might've considered her beautiful. Were she not an enemy, she might've avoided greeting him with an elbow jab to the kidney.
Were she not an enemy, she wouldn't be assailing them that night.
"Boys," she began, in a commanding yet sultry tone. "Go home before you get hurt. This is your only warning - I won't stand for your kind to cavort around causing mischief in these parts." Especially since her family lived near here. She owed it to them to protect them from harm, and grant them peace of mind so they could sleep at night. These mischievous sorts only tried to thwart her efforts, thus far unsuccessfully.
"Scheiß'," Bischofite cursed, under his breath. His left kidney still throbbed from her assault, and it hurt terribly to stand up straight. Perhaps Natron was right about finding senshi around these parts. Looks like it was time for that murder he'd promised... "For ******** sake, do all of zem start fights with bullshit ambushes like zat?" With a pained huff, he summoned his admittedly pathetic weapons.
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Posted: Sun Jun 09, 2013 9:48 pm
Natron swore violently. How the hell had a Senshi snuck up on them? He'd been too busy taking shots at Bisch to pay attention to his mental energy radar, and apparently the Lieutenant was paying for it through a kidney shot.
He was a little amused by that. Still, his expression was grim as he swung his weapon, judging the best angle of attack. It was always a little different fighting with someone else on his side - and he wasn't sure how much help Bischofite would be, given he had the joke weapon every Lieutenan started with.
"I usually prefer to do the ambushing, so I'd say no," he told Bischofite, and then he turned his attention to the Senshi and smirked.
"Sorry, sweetheart, but we're not going anywhere," he said, and then he sun his mace hard, swinging it directly at her stomach. He'd learned quickly to aim for the largest target on the body - it wasn't usually immediately lethal (and only would be, he supposed, if he hit just right and drove a rib into a heart) but it bruised badly enough.
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Posted: Sun Jun 16, 2013 10:51 pm
The girl swore loudly and stumbled backward, winded by the blow. "I see you've got some bite to back up your bark. Very well then - we'll make this quick." Soon afterward, she backed up and crossed her arms over her chest. She then swung them outward, and a faint green arc launched at her foes. "Dodge this!"
Bischofite watched Natrons attack connect, though he knew not why he would aim for such a nonlethal area. Why bother playing games with this girl when he could easily crush her? Then again, this exercise was meant for him to pluck a starseed, so Natron likely expected him to expend the most effort here. However, given his weapons, that effort would likely culminate in meager damage at best.
He managed to duck her sweeping attack, and attempted to follow it up with a well-aimed strike to the face. However, she'd had ample experience in fighting and dodged his his punch relatively effortlessly, and he received a swift kick to the side in response. Overall it didn't do much damage, but it sent him off-kilter which cost him precious time.
Bischofite understood it easily in her movements - she was toying with him, just as Natron was toying with her. This was all a game to them both, though he couldn't fathom why. Was it the fact that they were evenly matched? Was it simply the thrill of adrenaline coursing through their veins? Did they even have anything to dance for, or was nothingness enough cause to spur them into action? He could nary venture a guess before she launched at him again, this time placing him in a more defensive position.
This senshi was entirely too quick for his liking - as soon as he managed to evade one attack, he was clipped by another. Was this some intention to whittle away his energy and strike him down? "Natron, a little help here!"
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Posted: Fri Jun 21, 2013 8:40 pm
"That's my line," Natron grumbled irritably, as he jumped out of the way of her attack. He was regretting wasting a teleport to screw with Bischofite earlier - it had been worth it at the time, but now he was going to be wasting precious energy to do it again. Damn.
He circled wide like a predatory animal, waiting for an ideal opening. A mace was an unusual weapon, and sometimes he wished he had a sword - but the reach of it was undeniable. And that was when he had an idea. He just needed Bischofite to hold her attention - which the Lieutenant was doing a wonderful job of doing.
And there it was - his opening, right as Bischofite requested help. He shifted his grip on the chain of his mace, spreading his hands wider, and then teleported directly behind her and got the chain around her neck, pulling tight.
"Help enough for you?" The Captain asked dryly. That was the advantage, he supposed, of teleportation. The Senshi made a strangled noise and clawed at the chain, which made him frown and pull tighter.
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Posted: Fri Jun 21, 2013 11:02 pm
The lieutenant was visibly relieved to see the cunning expressed within Natron's chosen battle tactics. Though the man looked exhausted, he restrained the senshi with few superfluous moves. Efficiency - he hadn't quite seen it to that extent before.
However, the senshi didn't see it that way. She rallied against his restraint, eked out one strangled cry after the next as she struggled to free herself from his grasp. However, no amount of writhing and wailing deterred her assailant, and she realized with algid clarity that she may very well die that night.
To the enemy.
"Help enough," he confirmed, begrudgingly. Rather than approaching the senshi and ending their flash of a battle, he elected to catch his breath. He understood well enough that Natron would probably berate him for it later, but making the man wait yet again was such an appealing prospect that he couldn't pass it up. "Now if you'll just hold her steady for a few moments..." He couldn't suppress a grin.
Finally he approached the senshi, and for every step he took, she found more rancorous energy within herself to struggle against her captor. Bischofite admired the seething fire in her eyes, the absolute ferocity displayed by her actions. He recognized that this was a woman reduced to her baser components, a distilled version of her personality. With all the effort placed into survival, she hadn't the means to consciously cover up her social flaws, or capitalize on her disdainful words. She was simply a vitriolic, writhing, derisive corpse.
No, perhaps not a corpse. Not quite yet.
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Posted: Thu Jun 27, 2013 9:01 pm
Natron looked more irritated with her struggles than anything, and while his first thought was to tighten his chain garrotte, that might well deprive Bischofite of his kill - something he certainly didn't plan to do.
He made a small huffing of impatience, but kept quiet - his first kill had been quite like this, if for different reasons and with a different partner. It had been Toutatis holding the Senshi in place, after she had revealed her identity to keep him safe.
He didn't regret that, even with the way things had ended between them (didn't regret any of it, really. While it had lasted, it had been amazing.)
"Stop your struggling," he said finally, daring to pull a little tighter. "Even if you somehow get away, we'll just find you later." He was tempted to elaborate on the threat, make promises about her family, or such - just to make sure she died in terror - but that seemed a but Bond villain-ish, and he wasn't quite ready to take that leap. Yet.
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Posted: Tue Jul 02, 2013 7:07 am
She'd be damned if she didn't rail against those chains with the strength of a thousand suns.
It wasn't easy to grasp the fact that she just might die here. To strangers. To these carrion birds encircling her with nothing more than a bleeding hunger in their eyes, just waiting for her to perish. No, waiting to kill her.
They wanted her dead and they wanted to do it. The stronger one prevented her movements, quashed her struggles easily, but the black-haired one, the weaker one, must be fated to kill her. It wasn't a hard deduction.
Just a painful one.
"Please..." She pleaded, half-choked by chains. "Don't do this to me; I have a family..." She trailed off; whether it was due to her voice failing her or the other agent strangling her. She could no longer find voice. No more chances to live.
Bischofite listened stoically before he approached her. He heard her meager attempts at self-preservation, at playing with his heartstrings to manage a narrow escape from death. And to a point, he understood that - he would do the same in her position, so he didn't fault her for it. But he didn't applaud her for it either, and she would receive no measure of mercy for her act.
"Good," he replied, keeping his voice cool and steady. "Right now you're probably sinking zey'll avenge you for zis, somehow - be it some random act of karma or one of zem finding out zey're part of zis... War. But..." He slipped his hand into her chest. The flesh yielded so easily, and her starseed felt warm to the touch. He watched her grimace while maintaining his stoic countenance. "Life is more like a Kafka story. It ends wis'out some turgid display, and wis'out any convenient attempts to rectify your deas'. Zere's no moral to your story, no reason behind your corpse."
She spat in his face before she collapsed into oblivion.
In turn, he wiped it off with the back of his sleeve, still clutching the warm and vibrant starseed in his hand. "Do zey always go like zat?" He asked, with undertones of virulent irritation.
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Posted: Tue Jul 30, 2013 5:30 pm
It was always fascinating to watch the realization set in that they were going to die. The begging was annoying, but not much more. He let Bischofite have his fun, and only released his hold on her when she was good and dead. He stared down at the poor, pathetic dead girl, and rolled his shoulders.
"The one Toutatis and I killed went down screaming," he replied. "I don't think it quite hit her what as going to happen until it was way, way too late." He shrugged. "At least this one went with a small bit more dignity. Not a lot, but spitting in your face was ballsy, I'll give her that. Some people are defiant to the end. Or stupid." He rolled his shoulders.
"That was good, by the by, and I am sorry for acting like an a** earlier." Bischofite deserved an apology. He fought well, if he'd dragged that kill out a bit long. He had the Captain's respect, lateness aside.
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Posted: Sun Aug 04, 2013 12:06 pm
"How atrocious. Everysing dies - I don't sink zey haf' much of a concept of zeir mortality." Even animals died with greater dignity. They understood what was coming, discovered their own comfortable, private location, and laid down to die. There were no spats or fights, no last railing cries, no decomposition in front of others. People weren't mature enough to die properly.
Bischofite only eyed him with his unyielding gaze. Apologies were a ruse. Rather than seizing on the opportunity to press him for the real reason behind the apology, he elected to drop the matter. If he chose to cover his tracks that way, it was his decision.
"So, I can keep zis, right?" He tossed the starseed into the air haphazardly and caught it without incident. "Painite said zese are closer zan souls - more like ze essence of life, I guess. She said she's seen people lif' soulless, but... Zat's a cultural sing." But the soul was present in the eyes, not the chest. No matter - he had no intention of giving it up. Now he held some semblance of life in his palm, so finite and minute in its structure. How could life be contained like so?
"Natron. Captain Natron," he corrected after a pause. "You're not as bad as I sought you were. I didn't see why you were a superior before, but... Zat's changed. Maybe ze next time we meet, I'll haf' changed too, eh?" Perhaps he'd actually hold his own in a fight after that. Given his weapon though... He didn't see how that would happen.
Still examining the newly-acquired starseed, he split off from his superior without awaiting his dismissal. Learning military formality could wait for another day - they needed him to fight first and foremost, correct?
So fight he would.
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