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 Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 1:27 pm
He should've listened to the forecasts, but the minor inconvenience wouldn't stop his machinations.
If anything, they encourage his motives.
Sometimes he liked to drag his victims by the feet, face up so they could snort out the rain in their fits of lamenting misery. Even with the tape over their mouths, they made their plights apparent through some gut-wrenching moans or pleading cries, muffled from half-melted glue. Idly he wondered how it tasted - if, on the hottest of days, that very glue stained their lips with a taste so bitter that it called bile to mitigate the offense? He wasn't about to commit this act in the heat of a summer's day just to find out.
If anything, he owed it to them to continue.
The rain pelted every leaf in sheets, forcing the forest to writhe under the assault. It puppeted the woods as though it lacked its own substantial presence. How fitting, how akin to him it felt to witness such a scene. Did the others appreciate that sense of manipulation, or were they too far drowned in their own unfortunate situations to appreciate the world around them?
That was probably the truth, he decided, as he began the endeavor of hoisting the various individuals into the trees. A herculean task, for certain. Even as a general, it commanded a fair amount of his power and attention to raise the roiling souls into the crook of branches, and more effort still to restrain them long enough to fit the remainder of his devices. A spring-loaded contraption threaded around their necks, held apart only via the tension on a wire. And without that wire, the spring would depress, and all that kinetic energy would amount to certain doom.
Or, at least, it did for the civilians involved.
But perhaps the most entertaining part of his conniving scheme was threading the wire down through the trees, concealing it through a clever camouflage of bark and branch, and lacing it through underbrush still thick, still yellowed, with summer's barren heat. Oh, how fun it was to plan the route of tripwire laced through a typically disarming wooded area. Did the others feel the same? It mattered little; those who he positioned within the trees no longer had the voice to vocalize their opinions. As he mentioned once before, one peep and the vibration from their throat would trigger the contraption.
If anything, they didn't know a bluff when they heard one.
However, in the midst of his setup, someone nearly akin to him approached. Someone... markedly different, unnatural, yet still iniquitous by nature. Someone familiar, yet wholly impossible.
With a guttural groan, he ceased wrapping the tripwire around the base of the tree. He still held it firm in his hand, like a live wire from times long since past.
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Posted: Wed Sep 11, 2013 4:41 pm
Remarque did not like the rain, nor had he ever. He had only been out tonight after he'd seen a wraith far too close to home for comfort, so he'd sucked up his dissatisfaction and powered up.
He hadn't found it, though when he'd sensed a General's energy signature he wondered if it might have been Benitoite. Who he still very much wanted to talk to despite not having made any effort to do so. It would have been so much easier just to run into him one night.
Though, that also meant discussing wraiths and how lousy the Dark Mirror Court had been doing so far.
Still, he'd wandered towards the aura of a General, making his way through the rainy forest. He couldn't enjoy the gift of nature; he was too busy inwardly griping about how heavy his outfit was, drenched in rain. How he'd better not catch a cold. How that wraith better not have gotten too far.
Coming around one tree, he raised a brow when he finally identified the source of the energy.
Bischofite was not who he had expected to see standing there. It had been months since he'd last run into the agent, and back then he had been far weaker. Remarque almost didn't like the idea of Bischofite rising to power so quickly, and while he originally assumed the discontent was unfounded, a quick glance around at whatever the hell was going on here told him he was well within his right to think that was bad.
"Bischofite," he greeted, though there was little friendliness in his voice. His eyes scanned the faces of the civilians and he quickly decided that something was very amiss. He played it cool, as though the sight didn't disgust him. "What are you up to?"
He approached only as much as he had to; he had never really trusted the agent, and now really didn't seem like the time to start.
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Posted: Sun Sep 15, 2013 11:26 am
Bischofite was unenthused to feel someone approaching his work, but given how long he lingered in the same vicinity, he expected it. Perhaps it was a test to his fortitude, to his devotion, to his endless flexibility. Maybe it was a test, maybe it was nothing at all.
He preferred nothing at all - the universe was rife with chaos; all he had to do was perpetuate it.
And he liked to think he did a good job of that.
"Oh, Remarque," he greeted with undue expressive inflections, a slow grin cracking across his face like a gaping wound. "It's been a while, hasn't it? As you can tell, I don't haf' any of your Dark Mirror pets at my feet. What a shame, what a pity. So I guess zat means you haf' no business prying into my business, do you? Unless you'd like to join in ze fun... I could allow you zat, but I'm afraid it won't repair ze immense disgust I haf' for your inaction on zat day." He turned away from the senshi - a measured movement, fully calculated.
"I suppose it's good of you to ask. We can catch up. Zat's what you like to do, isn't it? Banter wis' your friends across ze border while all hell breaks loose around you? I sink zis is as good a mirror as any to such an occasion." Unfortunately he didn't have a lot of time to languish in a break from his intents - for every moment he wasted on Remarque, the civilians he gathered seized upon the gimped remains of their survival instincts.
They channeled their baser selves - like youma, they writhed against their binds. Their orders. Their absolute lack of freedom.
Did youma want their pseudo-freedom back? No, they wanted true freedom.
And he possessed it himself - so, in becoming a youma, would he forsake that? Was that what he truly sought, to shirk the singular absolute boon he held and trade it in for shackles to sooth his ravening mind? Was that why he sought youmafication?
No.
He simply sought a different kind of freedom.
Bischofite seized one of the girls by the binds and hauled her through the grass, the mud, the underbrush. It was a short distance, but one he took great pride in, for she struggled and spat and writhed against her binds all the same. It didn't matter. It never would. Soon she would find herself hoisted amidst the meandering branches of the trees, fastened against one of the thicker trunks, and await her fate with a curious device strapped to her neck.
The torture never lay within physicalities, he learned. That much he discerned from his endeavors during his captaincy. Idly he wondered if Remarque heard about those. Probably not - he did little to advertise.
But this event? It was a private affair.
"You should leaf' Remarque." It wasn't a threat.
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Posted: Fri Sep 20, 2013 9:23 pm
Remarque was not the sort to take orders from anyone. Bischofite's request to leave meant little to him, and he felt less inclined to remove himself from the scene as he watched the girl struggle. An anger boiled in the pit of his stomach and he clenched and unclenched his left hand. It was an old habit, and on that did little to ease his irritation.
"I think it would be wise for you to look at me when we're speaking, Bischofite. A pity, to think that you imagine that girl to be of more importance than I am."
He moved closer, if only to remind Bischofite that he was not a presence to be ignored.
Or perhaps he genuinely had no plans on letting the agent string her up.
Remarque eyed one of the hanging civilians, tilting his head at the contraption around his neck. "I am intrigued by this. Though I can't imagine what the Negaverse is up to that they would have you out partaking in such…oddities." He reached out a hand, as if with intention to touch the device. "What is it supposed to do?"
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Posted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 9:51 pm
"A pity, if you sink zat importance has much meaning wis' me." He returned. Still, he refrained from facing his guest. But as Remrque approached, he paused in stride. "All sings die. It is a matter of when, not why or how or where. No martyrdom amounts to much outside ze constraints of a lifespan, and as wounds fade, memories fade. People fade. Actions succumb to ze flow of time, and we are no more zan ze dust we started from. Zis is our fate." Finally he turned to regard the black-winged man who sought to stop him.
"I am rare in zat I embrace it." He spat with growing derision. "Surely you understand somesing of ze same, Remarque? Didn't you learn anysing of futility when your mirror wrais' peeled out from under your control and sieged ze town you keep trying to protect? Yet you disturb me here, as if you can make a difference in zis place. As if you seek to make changes to inevitability."
He watched Remarque approach, but did not seek to stop him from touching the devices placed precariously beneath his victims' necks. Steel aglitter with rain, pale and damp and clouded, and the water traced the contours of branches before seeping into the ground, slightly salted and acerbic.
Would nothing grow in the wake of misery?
When the senshi touched a bear trap, poised open beneath a supple neck, his stoic gaze softened. Work nearly undone in the presence of one who learned nothing from his machinations. "Ze Negaverse has little to do wis it, but zey would undoubtedly profit in ze end. Our aims align, zough our measures do not. It is a simple discrepancy, but ze means justify ze end." He breathed a sigh and approached the senshi, meandering toward his side as he watched the man's tentative gestures. "I will admit, I am not one to fashion fully functioning devices of my own accord. Zis is a bastardization of a couple sings, surely. Ze victim is tied to ze bear trap wis' sufficient force to trigger it, but zis is prevented by a cut piece of steel placed beneas' ze pressure plate. From zere, I tied tripwire to ze steel, and wrapped it between tree trunks. Should some errant soul scamper srough zese parts, he will find only deas' in his wake. Simple, but effectif'."
His gaze lingered on the cold steel, still glistening beneath the rain. "Remarque." He spoke gingerly. "I hated you for a great stretch of my career. I despised your inaction, and blamed it for a variety of situations. You were ze catalyst for all my life's fateful turns. Ze white whale, ever on ze horizon. But you were not so - what I saw was ze dawning sun reflected in ze waters. And I fixated on zat." He usurped the slackened tripwire and coiled it around his fingers, pausing as he watched it tighten against his gloved fingers.
"I envy your ability to teach wis'out action, Remarque." He pulled the wire. The steel dislodged. "I owe you my sanks, as you haf' taught me zat even ze dullest learn somesing when placed under great duress. It is only a matter of pressure before zey snap wis' a realization."
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Posted: Thu Oct 17, 2013 11:23 pm
Remarque's lips remained pursed as the male spoke. He watched every action warily.
Remarque had no idea what Bischofite was capable of, though in this moment he suspected Benitoite had made a terrible mistake all those nights ago. These actions were inhuman, and Bischofite seemed to act without care or compassion.
He took no pride in whatever part he'd played in creating this.
"But why this?" he asked, reluctant to dwell on any gratitude Bischofite intended to offer. He didn't like this. Maybe the senshi weren't the only ones who needed saving.
They weren't stringing civilians up with some elaborate torture scheme.
"How do you select your…guinea pigs? Do you give them a fair chance to fight for your life? —If you changed your mind, if you had second guesses—how would you get them down from this, unscathed? Or does that really just not matter? Are you more interested in finding ways to abuse the power Benitoite shared with you?" He kept his eyes focused on Bischofite, both because looking at the civilians made him sick—and he didn't trust the male. "And how does he feel about all of this? Is he proud of you?"
Remarque had a lot of questions, but he couldn’t settle on just one topic. All of this angered him.
And he wasn't sure what he was going to do about it.
He had one idea, right now.
But he was pretty sure Bischofite wasn't going to like it.
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Posted: Wed Oct 23, 2013 10:47 am
Bischofite smiled. Cocked his head. Shifted a sideways glance toward the few civilians he'd managed into the trees. Everything shuddered beneath the rain, including them. "It's simple, if you sink about it. When you watch someone break an arm, it makes you uncomfortable, does it not? It's ze same principle - by doing zis to ozzer people while zey're forced to watch, it leaf's a lasting impact on ze individual who caused zis mess. Besides, you of all people should know we haf' to go to extremes to influence someone. After all, you were zere when he stuck his hand in my chest. Now - which is more extreme to you, Remarque?" A rhetorical question, to be certain.
So he was still a little sore about it. It mattered little; likely he was beginning to get under Remarque's skin now.
"I don't see a reason to gif' zem a fair fight. Zeir fate isn't up to me. But you're right - it really just doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all." He shrugged, raised his hands. "We all die, Remarque. It's just a matter of when, and how you can use zat demise. I don't see why zis is such a difficult concept for you. Maybe you're just not fit for zis war." Thunder peeled out in the distance. The rain held steady, and soon after lengthened to a torrential downpour. Beneath the leaves they suffered only a fraction of it, but his uniform soaked rather quickly nonetheless.
Bischofite managed a few steps toward the end of the bough, tracing its underside for the duration of his stunted journey. When he drew to a stop, he turned and sank one of his chakrams into the heavy, damp bark. The civilian jumped and whimpered, but it didn't matter.
Nothing mattered. Didn't he know that already?
"Benitoite..." He paused, closed his eyes, breathed a sigh through his nose. "He knows of zese sings. To some extent. I don't know who tells him, but it's certainly not I." He shot a pointed glance toward Remarque. Scathing. "Maybe he knows zat ze lives of zose victims who survif'e will be much enriched for ze coming days. I'd like to imagine he has ze ability to see ze purpose in what I do. Humans are brilliant creatures, Remarque. Just imagine... if someone survif'es, if zeir tripwire remains intact, how much more vibrant will zeir sunshine be? How warm and flavorful will zeir typical coffee be? How much more expressif'e will zey be around zeir kids? How much more supportif'e?" He turned toward his stock of civilians, trussed and tied in the wet grass. Mud marred a few of them, where they allowed their cheeks to touch the ground.
What a shame, what a pity. To die dirty is the least of their concerns.
"But if you're going to stand around and gawk, maybe you should offer a hand." He leaned over to catch the bound arms of one of the girls, but he paused when his fingers touched her shivering skin. She was pallid white, and had a birth mark shaped like an egg, sunny side up. It even had a ghost of a ring around the yolk. "Right, I forgot - you much prefer to stand idly by and waste your time. My mistake." And he watched the blonde with feverish gaze.
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Posted: Fri Nov 15, 2013 6:18 am
Bischofite's words disgusted Remarque in a way he hadn't known was possible. There were so very few who could make him feel this way, and to know that the Negaverse had created a monster—a monster like this—disturbed him.
He considered his part in the whole affair to be small, though he wasn't going to blame Benitoite. How could he have known? He had only been trying to help his cause.
But this?
Remarque's lip curled into a sneer and all the anger he had repressed boiled over. Bischofite's words had been enough to condemn him, but the moment he reached for the girl, Remarque stopped being a bystander. He knew what he was doing when he drew his arm back and threw a hard blow towards the agent's face. There was no shyness and no sympathy in the hit; he held nothing back.
His voice was calloused and stern when he spoke. "The only hand you'll get from me is that one. You want to talk about dying? It's not such a difficult concept. We all die, one way or another, but if you want to live to see tomorrow, you drop her right now."
There was nothing special about that girl. She was no different from any of the others Bischofite had already strung up. Perhaps the only thing that separated her from them was that he hadn't fixed her up in the same way. Yet.
Remarque didn't have any intention of giving him the chance to.
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Posted: Fri Nov 22, 2013 8:53 am
Remarque hit like a freight train.
Bischofite sustained such a heavy hit that he could hardly draw breath soon afterward, and the recoil sent him stumbling into a nearby tree, narrowly avoiding a tripwire himself. The torturous pain blossomed from his cheek, radiating through his nose and halfway down his jaw in a gradient of agony. Covering the fresh injury with both hands, Bischofite drew a seething hiss. It hurt to remember just how powerful Remarque was, and to question if he truly had a chance, even at the top of the Negaverse chain of soldiers.
"If you hit me any harder, I would'f sought you loved her." The general's jaw popped when he spoke. Maybe Remarque's strike did more damage than he initially figured. "But you still fail to grasp ze concept of futility, Remarque - you cannot control if I lif' or die. You can beat me wis'in an inch of my life, if you sought zat would make a difference, but ultimately my fate is not in your hands. Just as zese fine citizens," he finally relinquished his grasp on his now-injured face and spread his arms wide, "do not depend on me to lif' or die. It's not your choice to make."
He considered reaching toward the girl once more, brushing the muddied hair from her cold and clammy face in order to bait Remarque into hitting him again. He considered repeating the action until the senshi assaulted him numerous times, until he tasted blood and his teeth hung loose. He considered inciting Remarque to heinous violence, and he considered committing his life to the cause and drawing the senshi into murderous intent. And if he died at the man's hands, what would come of it? Would Remarque see himself as a savior for these people, that he finally silenced an iniquitous wretch, or would he realize the folly in taking a life? Would he now understand that he was a murderer, no different from Bischofite himself?
It tempted him, and if he did not initially have plans, he may have acted on it. But now wasn't the time to draw his fresh audience into a blind rage.
He was entirely unaware that the rain trickling down his face was not rain at all.
"Remarque," he began again, this time maintaining his distance from the trussed girl. "Tell me - what would you haf' me do? If you could miraculously manipulate me, what kind of person would I be? And how might I influence ze world? For if I understand correctly, humans are most receptif' and attentif' when zeir lives are in danger, for zat is when ze survival instincts kick in. Zis is good - very good, in fact, because ze reward for keeping zeir lives srough such struggles is like... a euphoria. A runner's high. Haf' you ever had a runner's high, Remarque? I bet you haf' - wis' punches like zose, how could you not? But zat isn't ze point - my mess'ods offer zem a chance to feel absolutely excellent or die. But what do you offer zem? What do you offer me? Now's your chance to alter my course, Remarque. I am offering you ze choice.
"Affect me, change me so absolutely zat you will be proud of what you haf' done." A smirk drew across his features, though it hurt to sustain it. "Do zis, and I will let you haf' ze girl."
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Posted: Mon Dec 02, 2013 9:21 am
"Let me?" the eternal asked, seeming almost stunned at the proposition. His face was blank, as though he were straining to recollect something he'd missed, and then his expression darkened. "Let me?" he repeated, coarser. "Make no mistake, Bischofite. You don't let me do anything. I do what I want. You hold no authority over me, nor could you ever."
He was mad—-enraged. The emotion had clouded his judgment in the past, but he was not so overwhelmed in that instant that Bischofite's request was irresistible. "Am I supposed to care what your motives are? Do you think yourself so important that this behavior is excusable? How many of these civilians," he gestured with his hand, "Would you think really had a chance to escape? And how would they? This isn't a struggle for survival, this is your excuse to slaughter them."
He doubted Bischofite would lose sleep over this even if he couldn’t find some strange justification for it. "So, no," he said firmly. "We're done here. If you want to die so badly, keep it up. But I'm not going to take part in it."
Let some senshi come by. Let them see this. Let them know what the Negaverse was.
Let them deal with this.
"I am taking her, and I am leaving."
His skin was crawling just speaking to Bischofite. There were energy signatures in the area. Someone else would find this little thing of is. He wanted to get out before someone thought he was involved. "If you contest, I'll break your legs and leave you here. You can crawl back to whatever hellhole you spawned from."
Broken legs seemed like an improvement on the General that he could be proud of.
He'd moved to the girl and heaved her up over one shoulder, though did not allow his eye to stray from Bischofite's for long. He didn't trust the man and was eager to leave this scene—and drop this girl somewhere far, far away.
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Posted: Tue Dec 03, 2013 7:56 pm
"I already know zat, Remarque," he echoed in an equally derisive tone. "Maybe you're ze one zat's missing somesing here - I never claimed to hold any power over your actions, nor zeirs-" he motioned toward the remaining civilians still trussed and tied on the ground, "nor anyone else's. I'm not delusional wis' any modicum of power. But justifying zat to you is an act of insanity, as you'd never listen regardless. You're no different from ze White Moon Court, wis' zeir incessant need to brush me off and pretend zat I'm full of shitty, inane ideas of overarching control and bigotry. Do you really sink I'd be anysing like zis if you hadn't just stood around while Benitoite corrupted me?" Surely Remarque understood the ramifications of his inaction that day.
And if he suffered so terribly in seeing what Bischofite did to randomly picked civilians? All the better. Let him suffer. Let him writhe. Let him beg for an alternative.
Let him taste the powerlessness that Bischofite endured every damned day.
"Haf' a nice night zen, Remarque." He bade the senshi an overenthusiastic wave. Bischofite didn't care if he reclaimed one civilian - maybe it was in her fate to avoid dying that day. Nothing he did would change that, so why try? As for the rest of them, barring mechanical failures or the captive target audience simply stepping over their wire, none of them would survive the night. "Just remember - my hellhole could always use your company."
With Remarque gone, his single reclaimed hostage slung over a shoulder, Bischofite could finally return to his work. The rain already sunk through his uniform and elicited a shiver from the general, so he found it prudent to muddle through his tasks as quickly as possible. The sooner he could begin hoisting the remainder into the branches, the better.
And once he finished, all that was left was to wait.
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