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 Posted: Wed Aug 14, 2013 9:09 am
A new evolution threatened to overtake him. It yearned to raze all his ideals, send him writhing in searching snakes of flames. There is a better form of you. A greater path to absolution. You have to take it.
You have to take it or burn.
It echoed through the depths of Bischofite's roiling thoughts while he crossed rooftops. To think that all this time he spent ruminating on such subjects, studying their blackened births and undulating, shadowy shapes; he never quite crossed the threshold of applying that information to himself. He spoke of it as transcendence, though he refrained from viewing himself as another potential evolution. But she saw it.
Ida.
That disgustingly optimistic little wench.
Though he regretted demonstrating the birth of a youma rather than killing her, fate had a greater role in store for him, and that first fracture of realization came through her parting words. Through her, he received the first seeds of change. But, he faltered on the first step - initiating the process through which he might obtain that greater form. He couldn't manage it himself, could he? No - through all his attempts, Bischofite never managed to further corrupt himself. And he'd heard the story but once from Benitoite - someone less experienced may yet instigate that form of transcendence within another officer. The blonde managed to do so with his previous charge, Bazzite. And now, that ascended boy traversed the rift in freedom from the eternal curse of being human. Such pondering bore another stark fact:
To discover a more iniquitous existence, he needed help.
Bischofite quickened his pace, seething for the slight sting of one of his fellow officers. Somewhere, anywhere. Someone, anyone. They had to be here. They had to be there. They had to be a thousand miles away. He knew he had little camaraderie between any of them, but this favor might spark a start. They could get something out of this. If he might find one of them, if he could plead his case in silver tongues of reasoning, then perhaps he might quell the yearning in his mind.
Finally, he found one. Someone unfamiliar. They - she - wouldn't understand his plight. He needed to abandon that operation, at least for now.
"Kapitän," he called from his perched position on the precipice. "Tell me you're looking for somesing to kill. Tell me you'f got some darker side to you zat seeks satisfaction in blood." Anything to quell this madness for now. Anything that might steal his intent away, save it for a different day.
So he descended from his position, meeting ground level with little difficulty. Not like before. "I need to bury all zose stars in ze dirt."Beejoux let me know if this works!
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Posted: Thu Aug 22, 2013 4:31 pm
The captain in question was currently leaning against the concrete barrier that ran along the edge of an inner city overpass, arms folded together. She was watching the cars that passed beneath her, eyes following the blazing streak of rear lights, but she wasn't really seeing them. Her mind was elsewhere. Though not on anything particularly pressing. It was a slow night, she hadn't run into any order aligned soldiers, and she found the act of energy gathering dull. Besides, she had Bornite for the latter, and he was far more charismatic then she. She looked quite distracted, though she had noticed the approach of another strong agent of the Negaverse. When he called out to her she merely turned and straightened as if she were expecting him. Hip coming to rest against the guard well, as she crossed her arms under the swell of her chest. She watched him, brows lifted curiously as he dropped from his perch to approach her. "My, you've quite the flare for the dramatic." Her head tilted, charcoal gave taking him in before coming to linger on his face. He wasn't familiar to her, not even by reputation. "I don't know about kill," she purred, painted lips twisting up in a smile. "But I do enjoy drawing a little blood here and there." She was a brawler by nature, and a boxer by profession. Fighting came as naturally to her as breathing, and she enjoyed it very much. It was why she had gone into SpecOps. Where else could she exercise her exceptional battle lust? Her grin softened, but it did nothing to dampen the fierce light in pale eyes. "I don't think I caught your name." Subtle. She lifted a hand to tuck a bit of violet hair behind the curve of her ear. "And by stars, do you mean the fuku wearing, order preaching vermin that plague our fair city?"
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 3:29 pm
Oh, this one was one of those exciting types. Suddenly the existential crises plaguing him earlier faded to a dull roar. White noise. A perpetual irritant.
All in all, something he could live with.
Bischofite studied the fellow agent before responding. He examined the violet hair lying flat against her head, petering down to jaw level. Her eyes reflected a type of quiet motivation toward entropy - the mark of one unburdened by violence, to be certain. Her attire, her uniform, reflected the typical dark color schemes of the Negaverse, though it accentuated her more feminine qualities. Yes... she might make for a nice distraction this evening. And why wouldn't she? Already she displayed a tantalizing calmness, despite the nature of their work.
"Drawing blood lacks commitment, but I sink I might settle for zat." When it came to civilians drawn to the crossfire, anyway. He approached the young woman leaning against the barrier, though he concealed his nebulous thoughts beneath a mask of stoicism - for now.
"You're right about one sing - you didn't catch my name." It wasn't that he neglected to give it to her; she needed to earn it, just the same as a promotion. However, she exhibited a sense of direction for the abstract - what he spoke to her was't altogether foreign, and for that, he smiled with a hint of mischief. "Maybe you'll come across it sometime - and in turn, I might learn yours. I want to know, captain - why do you loiter out here at zis time of night? Are you waiting for somesing? You might find benefit in seeking it." Still sieging her with his unfaltering gaze, he leaned against the very same barrier, imitating her curious disposition.
"And by stars, I mean gutter trash, even unfit for repurposing as youma." Though he didn't elaborate on his personal views of the monsters, he made clear his distaste for the opposite faction. It wasn't even an outright hate, per se - they were simply a target for his insatiable violent streak. No, even that felt too simple an explanation. "I don't suppose zis is a prime spot for running across such a plague, is it? If so, you should let me join you." Not that she had much of a choice.
He already decided on sticking around, whether she liked it or not.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 6:37 pm
"Not necessarily," she counter pleasantly. "I would argue it takes a certain amount of commitment in repeatedly bludgeoning striking another living person." There was a fundamental difference between facing someone that voluntarily steps into a ring with you, verses someone you're ordered to attack, that has no desire, or ability, to fight back. She wasn't necessarily a cruel person by nature, but she she was physical, and she abhorred losing. Ruthless was an accurate description. She could definitely be ruthless. Coal colored eyes narrowed slightly when he very deliberately refused to offer his name, but her smile only grew wider. "Cryptic." Her gaze returned to the passing cars at his question, and she lifted herself up to sit on the edge, ankles crossing. "I wasn't really waiting for anything in particular. It's a nice night, no sense in rushing about." If she wanted a fight it wouldn't take much to find one. She considered his question on the likeliness of their current location being a popular crossroads for the opposing faction. It was a busy over pass, though she wasn't sure it it was any more or less traversed then any other place in the city. Well, except the park. That seemed to be a hot bed of magical activity. "As good a place as any, though if you want more of a guarantee I suggest we head to the park." Apparently she didn't care if he stuck around. She liked company, and at least so far he he was quite interesting. "So what say you, Captain?" Her head tilted, cheek resting on her own shoulder as she watched him. "Will it be lily white soldiers on the menu?"
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Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2013 7:15 am
The girl had a good point. That particular form of assault demanded focus and commitment, though still quite far from the drive required for murder. Still, he appreciated her input on the matter and the ease by which she referred to slow violence. At least now he met someone willing to address the darker aspects of their work without blanching.
"My name..." His gaze shifted to the road, following the tar-stricken pebbles in invisible patterns. They flecked the street with their bumpy texture. They meandered aimlessly across the pavement. They proved every bit as faceless as most of the citizens he met. He could draw a thousand comparisons between life and the composition of the street, but who would listen to such strange remarks? "My name is just a calling card, really. Somesing of a label for ze enemy. But on our side, it's a useless sing. No real meaning to it, not much of a purpose behind it. So ist nun mal das Leben*.
"But, I sink it takes a little more commitment to refrain from destroying everysing to enjoy ze night. You could be rearranging someone's face right now, but instead you're watching taillights draw flatlines across ze street." He allowed his silence to linger, and in turn she posed a different scenario - an inclusive scenario. It surprised him mildly; from what he'd learned of his purported allies, none liked his methods or his motives. Though she had seen neither, the change of pace wasn't revolting. So what made her so different? One might say her past experiences, though her current ones wore fresh in her mind. Perhaps it was simply because she never witnessed his machinations, or she simply didn't care.
One can burden a stranger with the heaviest of thoughts, ones that crumple even the best of friends. How strange we act when we owe each other nothing, he considered. But did that apply to her?
Maybe so. He already drew a handful of abstract revelations from their encounter. What more proof did he need?
Finally he looked toward her once more. It was strange, almost eerie, how black her eyes shone in the muted, overcast light. "I used to sit zere quite often, srowing rocks at passing cars. Sometimes you'd hear a windshield crack if you had a decent swing. but now..." He trailed off, if only to climb the wall himself and stand atop the narrow precipice. Cars mimicked the sound of rushing wind - was this what the suicidal sought to hear? Were they seeking the sounds of turbulence among the resolution to their own lives? "Such sings are just childish reminders. It's too easy when you know you can circumvent ze consequences. Ze same applies to you sitting zere, or me standing here. If we fall, it doesn't haf' ze same effect. We can just teleport and circumvent ze consequences."
In essence, only violence remained a viable alternative. And even in that, there were exceptions. Violence against a civilian often brought little in its wake - no challenge, no chase, no chastising. But senshi, knights... They were the last bastion of mortal reminders. How long until even that beleaguered circumstance fell?
"I'f considered it, but..." He smiled while he watched the cars flee from their own afterimage. "You sound like a fighter. A good one, at zat. So why don't we test ourselves here? Zere's not too many passing cars to hit us." And if he happened to leap into a semi, so be it. At least he wouldn't have to dwell on the drawbacks of being human anymore; he wouldn't have to plan out his own youmafication anymore.*That's life.
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Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2013 5:11 pm
Painted lips pursed, gaze dropping tot he toes of her boots as she considered his logic. "That's an interesting way to think about it." She wasn't sure how much she agreed. It was an unique concept, and not at all something she would have considered on her own, but it was interesting. Her heel knocked against the concrete barrier, head tipping back so she could look up at the stars. Or what little of them she could see, considering the city lights. Rearranging people's faces. The mention of it made her lips split in a smug grin. It slipped as he started his story. For no other reason then that the subject matter didn't warrant a grin. Instead she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, arms dangling down between them and clasped loosely. Her head craned as he climbed up to stand beside her. watching him through a fringe of uneven, violet bangs. She grinned again, sitting back so she could fold her hands over the back lip of molded concrete. So he wanted to tango? There was a novel idea. He'd guessed right. With out answering she pulled her legs up and got to her feet on the narrow concrete beside him, one long leg sliding back and planting for balance. "I am a fighter," she assured him, pushing her hood down to pool against her shoulders. "Professionally." Xenotime didn't back down from a fight, but she wasn't against fair play. Her new friend didn't know what he was getting into asking for a spar, so she would enlighten him. "Boxing, mixed martial arts." Another grin, more feral then before. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He could back down, she'd let him. No promises it wouldn't color the way she looked at him, but only so mush. "So what'll be, Captain?" Her hands rose up, fingers curling loosely, ready. She didn't bother to summon her weapon. She seldom did.
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Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2013 5:57 pm
Though he was surprised, he wore his interest in the form of an excited grin. So she truly was a fighter, legitimately trained at that. She turned out to be quite the catch when compared against the other possibilities of the evening.
He laughed quietly, gaze still lingering on the dwindling traffic below. Idly he pictured himself bleeding across the ground, rivulets dancing in a sordid, violent tale. How long would they remain? Would passing cars protract the display, or contort it into smeared streaks imitating the daily commute? And in turn, would she sustain any injury? Maybe, maybe not - he only knew for certain that neither one would meet adversity if he declined a fight.
Finally he turned his attention to her, mirth still apparent in his eyes. "Zat's a polite way of informing someone zey're going to get zeir a** kicked." He wasn't misguided; Bischofite understood that he lacked a snowball's chance in hell to win a fight against someone like her. And perhaps winning wasn't necessarily the point - the experience was what mattered most. However, he was running out of time; if he didn't learn to fight properly now, he may find it increasingly difficult to survive. But by honing his skills, he diminished his chances to brush with mortality. There's a conundrum - did he want excitement, or safety?
"I'm not hesitating, Captain." It was as close to a yes as she could get from him. Bischofite turned away from the violet-haired girl, widening the distance between them by walking across the barrier. Finally he turned once more to regard her with a mischievous smirk. "But since you were so courteous to inform me of your advantage, I sink I might cheat a little. Surely a trained fighter like yourself can deal wis' an armed opponent, nicht?"
He summoned his weapons to his grip, and in doing so, recognized the fact that he will need to seek training in them, should he wish to progress. No amount of literature granted him experience; perhaps it was time to see how a professional fought firsthand.
And afterward, should he find himself lucky enough to survive, he might find revelations afloat in his muddled mix of blood and spit.
"And Captain, if you srow me into oncoming traffic, at least leaf' my body in ze road. I'd like my deas' to ******** up a few suspensions." His grin only grew wider.
Oh, this'll be fun.
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Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2013 6:36 pm
He wasn't backing down, it made her grin broaden, pearly teeth flashing in the diffused light. "Seemed sporting. I probably wouldn't have extended the same courtesy to one of our enemies." He left shoulder rose, half a shrug. Pale eyes watched him turn, giving her his back, as he put a little more space between them. It wasn't smart, and if she were any less sporting an opponent she'd have taken advantage of it. Instead she watched him, barely blinking, as he turned again and smirked at her. "Ja." She'd slept through most of her German classes, but a few things had sunk in. His weapons were interesting. Similar to her own, in their way, but completely different. Hand held, small, compact. Ideal for hand to hand combat. But that was were the similarity ended. Her brass knuckles were more an extension of her self, a tool, a means to make her hit harder. On their own they were nothing. "Nice blades." He could keep his toys, she would work around them. She didn't comment on his request. It was a little.. odd. Instead she merely smiled all the brighter. Her chin dipped, the barest of nods, and then she was charging forward on their narrow perch, right arm cocking back as she closed that short gap between them like it was nothing. She was fast, even for a Captain, years of training. Pale fingers jerked to grab at his shirt, and that tightly closed fist started forward. He had asked for this. She would not hold back.
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Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2013 6:56 pm
Bischofite expected she would naturally have the upper hand, but he lacked the insight to know exactly how impressive that advantage was. She wasted no movements - in all the fluidity of her approach, she never instituted an extraneous step. And he understood they both required close quarters for this, but with the addition of his weapons and longer arms, range remained at his discretion.
However, that range only mattered if he could possibly match her speed.
Could he? No.
Bischofite tried to maintain a precarious distance between the two, but she easily usurped the front of his coat to stifle that plan. No matter. Instead he attempted to slash her across the stomach region, but a quick fist to the face not only jarred his train of thought, but temporarily stunned him with a strangled grunt. He didn't have much time to recover, either; a fighter shouldn't relinquish their advantage to honor, right?
Instead he aimed for her wrist - should he injure the hand that bound him to that distance, he might even the playing field marginally. At least, that was his consideration going into the attack. Whether it connected or not depended on her skill; surely she might find a way to counter it expertly.
If anything, getting his a** kicked meant that he earned a firsthand view of a professional at work.
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Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2013 7:22 pm
Her fist connected, a solid, jarring hit that tingled up her arm and made her fingers go numb. That was a mark of a good hit. It wasn't just connecting, it was connecting with enough force that you felt a shadow of the pain yourself. If your hand didn't hurt, then you weren't hitting hard enough. The trick was to take the pain, appreciate it, then move past it. You couldn't react, not if you wanted to maintain an advantage. The half second you took to wince was all your opponent needed to turn the tables. Xenotime knew better. She didn't hesitate. His head rocked back with the bow, and she let momentum carry him back half a step. Just enough to gage a reaction. She saw his arm come up, saw the blade go for her wrist, and she grabbed his arm, forcing it down and around as she released his coat. He had to turn, or he'd risk a dislocated shoulder. "Are you trying?" She hissed at him, chin resting on his shoulder a she pulled his arm up at a painful angle. "You wanted this, didn't you?" Her cheek rubbed against the edge of his jaw, and she turned and brushed her lips against his throat before pushing him away from her.
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Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2013 7:40 pm
So it seemed she lived up to her assertions.
She refuted his attack easily, one she likely saw coming. And in truth, he didn't know how to hide his motives in the midst of an assault - he never had to before. Self-defense, in its loosest term, only demanded a few disarming words and a close distance, along with his target succumbing to his persuasions. Afterward, a quick stick to the kidney didn't require much effort; his choice of victim already gave in when he began his tactics.
But as a Negaverser... Their curious second life demanded far more than sweet words or conniving tendencies to retain an edge over the opponent. And if he neglected to measure up to his allies... What did that mean for the enemy?
They were considerations he loathed to embrace, but now posed as good a time as any.
For, now, he remained trapped in the midst of her assault. With his arm pinned painfully against her back, she ensured he recognized the travesty of his situation. Yes, Bischofite lacked the means to defend himself properly, or even take the initiative in instances like these. But it didn't matter before, did it? No - not all senshi underwent the rigorous training of his new sparring partner.
Of course, not all senshi exhibited the same sensual flairs in the midst of combat.
He knew she was special.
Bischofite snorted through the pain, which spattered flecks of blood across the pavement before him.Though he felt the warmth from her neck against the back of his shoulder, all his attention focused on the arm held hostage and the agonizingly unnatural angle at which she pinned it to his back. He bit his tongue to stifle a strained groan and hissed through his teeth. His strained response was hastened in the pressing seconds of battle. "Zough you might not sink it, yes." It felt akin to admitting defeat, but pride did not exist without shame.
Oh, but did she just brush against his neck? That moment garnered goosebumps rather than grimaces.
Finally she released him, a show of mercy to be certain. After rolling his shoulder, he turned and threw one of his chakrams at her, as quickly as he could while holding accurate aim. As a brawler and a captain, she likely possessed the skills to dodge it easily. Still - he may find this fight a bit easier with the ability to grasp something aside from cold steel. As soon as the weapon left his hand, he sprinted toward her; perhaps if he maintained a successive barrage of attacks, he might pin her on the defensive. Unlikely, but worth a shot.
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Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2013 8:04 pm
She was biting her lip when he whipped around to face her. The full, painted bud of her low lip caught between the press of teeth at the corner of her mouth. She was enjoying herself, it was obvious. It wasn't so much that she got off on causing pain, though that was in there, but she truly enjoyed the thrill of fighting. It brought a rush that nothing else could. Honestly she hadn't thought he'd throw a chakram at her, and it actually caught her off guard. She jerked, but the blade caught her cheek, and there was crimson beading slow and heavy on pale skin as she snapped back up to face him. That was more like it! A distraction. Not half bad. He lunged at her, and she danced back to keep out of reach until she had her balance. Once her footing was sure she stopped, dropping to her knee, and rotated to throw her elbow into his stomach. There was blood dripping down her cheek, two thick lines at either end of the angry cut. She resisted the urge to wipe them away. He'd made her bleed. She was going to have to return the favor.
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Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2013 8:17 pm
Ah, small victories. Sometimes he surprised himself, though more often than not, it was for the worse. This time he managed a hit on someone far more versed on the field of battle than he. A small celebration, to be certain, but not one he could seize upon in the moment. And she rebounded from it so easily; already she was able to receive his next attacks before he even reached her. What wonders she possessed, what skill she flaunted like breath across tantalized skin.
This was her element, wasn't it?
If their tussle begat lessons, he considered himself fortunate. And perhaps one of those first lessons was more of a realization - Bischofite didn't know how to dodge. At least, he didn't know how to dodge while attacking, which would prove a worthwhile skill.
His next swings met thin air - she dropped below his natural range of motion, and by the time he realized it, her attack already half-connected. However, he had just enough time to marginally steel himself before the strike. Though he choked on his own breath, he forced himself to maintain some semblance of composure for the sake of the fight. For the sake of proving he held some merit, some meager means to learn what she might deign to teach.
After stumbling backward, a regrettably necessary action, Bischofite tried to maintain some sort of offensive. So far it wasn't working out to his advantage, but he lacked the finesse to react the way she did to oncoming blows. Perhaps he wanted a second look, perhaps he felt like trying his luck, but the fact of the matter was that he continued with such folly.
And he knew it was folly.
Still maintaining ragged breaths, Bischofite retaliated with a downward swing of his remaining chakram. He struck blood once, why not attempt it again? Even meager scratches warranted an encore.
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Posted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 7:19 pm
If Xenotime had an element, this was certainly it. There were other things she was good at, other hobbies, but this was what she lived for. The rush of battle, the satisfaction of a well landed blow, the anticipation and edge of danger. She craved it. More then that, she sought to control it, and that showed. In the way she handled herself, in the way she handled her opponent. The way she was handling Bischofite. He'd caught her off guard once, but she wasn't going to let that happen again. The chakram came down and swept her arm up, knocking his to the side before her right hand came up, palm out, to connect with the underside of his chin. It was meant to disorient, to distract and force your opponent back, and when he took that half step back to regain his balance she was there, dropping into a crouch before swinging her foot out to catch his legs, knocking them out from under him. Of course, serious as their attacks might have been, this was really all just a game. She wasn't trying to hurt Bischofite, and she certainly didn't want to see him fall into traffic. As he came down she was already moving forward, directing his fall so he'd land on the concrete barrier, and not topple into the street below. Her footing was limited, and she ended with a knee between his legs while the other leg hung beside his hip. her hands were on his shoulders, and with how very close she was that long, violet hair was surely tickling his cheeks. She grinned down at him, and it was feral and sex all at the same time. As a trickle of blood trailed close to her lips she flicked her tongue out to catch it, then swept it over the pearl edge of her teeth. "You're going to have to do better."
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Posted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 8:34 pm
For every ventured strike, one was returned in kind. However. Xenotime wasn't purely reactive - she possessed the ingenuity to guide their convoluted ploy, their backwashed, ancient dance. They behaved as predators locked in motion, and in kind one would suffer defeat, but not all is lost to another's triumph. Even as the sea swallows a ship, that very vessel forms the basis for whole ecosystems. Surely enough, this loss envisioned greater reforms within him.
However jarring it was for his lower jaw to collide with his teeth, it didn't match the sheer bizarreness of temporarily stunting his ability to discern proper motion and alignment, all when another more strategic strike sent him sprawling across the concrete.
And his head collided with that very barrier. Oh, it hurt.
It hurt like the parting kiss after endless nights of misery. The final moment when one confirms the exit of malaise.
A bittersweet thing, really.
In his state of temporary paralysis, when his mind struggled to process the previous events and piece together exactly how he wound up a street decoration, she lingered over him like a hot breath in a stifled room - like a ghost of a kiss just waiting for contact. And in that moment, it didn't matter how he lay prostrate across concrete with a throbbing head injury. It didn't matter that his face ached, or what dwindling adrenaline meandering through his system finally found a reason to cease its journey. Beyond that, various honks peppered the rush of artificial wind, but that didn't matter. Loose gravel crunched beneath every movement, both his and hers, but it failed to register. Occasionally someone ground the gears in their new manual transmission, but even that abstained from coaxing a laugh out of the captain.
No, all of his attention lingered on Xenotime. Her lips, her vivid violet hair, her unmarked pale skin. All these singular pieces interlinked seamlessly to form a complex and vibrant whole, borne to him by the thrill of battle and chance encounters. She knew exactly what she was doing.
And perhaps that was the thrill of it.
She understood full well what her actions coaxed out of him, and she, too, reciprocated them to an extent. People obtained intimate observations of one another in battle, and though they were not as honest or readily apparent as in those final turgid breaths before death, they belied a sense of true character.
And the one that lingered above him, the girl who could so easily best him in battle, was a schemer. How he loved those deceivers, those malicious little liars and cheaters that thrived off anarchy and all the marks of a stellar hunt.
"If I did better, you wouldn't be able to call it a fight anymore." He returned that smirk in kind, though he refrained from tearing his gaze from those lips. "But..." After releasing his chakram, he wound the coiled wisps of her bangs around his index finger and brushed his fingertips across her shallow laceration. Once his fingers ran just past her ear, he seized a handful of her tousled violet hair and jerked it backward to broaden the distance between them.
Sometimes encounters like these brush a little too close. For now, it was time to demonstrate true scheming.
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