 Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 1:19 pm
As much as he was loathe to partake in such menial tasks, Alois required sustenance to fuel him during his next venture. If he was to embark on the journey to becoming a youma, he needed to explore the deeper reaches of the Rift. And in doing so, that would determine his ability to survive in such a bleak and desolate location. As all youma did, as he must do.
It was strange, almost uncanny. As he walked the aisles of the grocery store, seeking foods with distant expiration dates, ones that warranted little preparation, others bustled about him in their daily tasks. They sought groceries for soccer practice, for work lunch, for after-school snacks and get-togethers. They used food as a means to indulge in the more human practice of socialization, of seeking new friendships borne from good food and good moods.
Yet there he lingered, writhing beneath a smooth surface of skin. Though he adopted the same tasks, endured the same grueling necessities, they granted him the means to a far different end - one that these faceless crowds didn't begin to consider.
And who would? As Buddingtonite proved on their fateful encounter, who would seek such a fate? Who wanted to become the monsters that lurked in the dark, that tainted dreams and aspirations with their limitless malice? But he did, and as others claimed in the wake of their chance encounters, he was every bit as monstrous as the youma he commanded. So wouldn't it come to pass that he would adopt himself into their ranks, by whatever means necessary? He stood in the middle of the cereal aisle considering such blackened fancies of a new form and new machinations, yet everyone passed him by without a hint of his deep desires.
Even the register lines begat enough time for him to consider the depths of the Rift - the dreary, sandlike substance coating the ground, the rolling hills bereft of life and the jutting crystals punctuating seamless ranges. Occasionally he would locate the shell of a town, bearing buildings with signs half-scorched in an inferno long before his time, crawling with monsters that sought only what he had to offer. And in those crusted confines, those crafted corpses, he might find a measure of solace from the humanity he came to loathe.
And that was all he sought in this endeavor. Nothing more, nothing less.
In that state of dismal haze, he ventured out of the grocery store with bags clutched loosely at his sides. In that same ethereal state of mind, he crossed the street. Started down the sidewalk. Froze next to the stoplight to wait for its signal. He would obey the laws, for now. He would obey anything, for now.
He would notice the bubbling, boiling mass seeping from the manhole in the middle of the street. And from that manhole oozed a viscous mass of youma, something soiled in s**t and piss and dirt and grime, and any imaginable substance coating the walls of the sewer it languished within. That youma loosed a drowned roar, a noise provoking trepidation and all-out terror. People scattered, they writhed, they railed against each other to flee the scene.
But Alois lingered still. If the beast approached, he would make himself known, and Bischofite would reroute the youma's path to someplace far more destructive. In turn, he would indulge its hunger with all the errant souls it wished.
But even as the beast approached, a single scout caught his eye. She was nearly indiscernible in the distance, her detailed features unknown to him, but the fact that she stood atop a building and wore one of their bizarre, cumbersome outfits confirmed her identity as a senshi. Now he would have to address one of the creatures he sought to become without the power that subdued its intentions.
And the girl sought to approach it.
"Oh, ******** me..." He muttered, staring down the youma in bored expectation.
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