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Honestly, it hadn't been exactly the best day. Work had not gone well, his toes still ached from an vapid suit backing over his foot with an overpriced car while loudly screaming that he'd destroy them all if there was a scratch on it... followed by even more loudly insisting that the bellowing about toes and feet and tires was just for attention and to 'suck it up and don't try that with ME' because it was "obviously" an act.

Most days he managed to get through a shift without wanting to power up, rip someone slowly through the mangled glass of their own windshield, and rip out their starseed in front of horrified onlookers.

Today had honestly NOT been one of those days.

He glared fervently at the darkened park, took a last swig from an bottle of beer, the others in the pack sitting beside him, yet unopened, and tossed the bottle in the direction of a trash can.

He could feel the Order signature, and, regardless of who they knew, he was really looking forward to see what they'd do.

Bring on the fighting. He was itching to hit something. Or someone. Preferably someone. Preferably many times.

...Oh. Perfect. Really. Really. Really perfect.

Realgar silently turned his stare on Avior, locking the boy in his gaze, and deliberately took a second bottle of beer out of the case, and twisted off the lid before answering, tipping the neck in the boys direction like an accusatory finger.

"First... One of us doesn't have such a s**t metabolism that he could get drunk on a Shirley Temple. Protip. It's not you."

He paused here, raising a finger on his other hand in an indicator to wait, and just as deliberately took a long swig of beer, raising an eyebrow at Avior.

"Second, kid. If I'm looking for help, which, actually I'm not... it's not from some kid who's so young his voice isn't sure yet if it's decided to change." He paused again, eying the contents of the bottle with a critical raised eyebrow as he considered things and then added.

"OK no, wait.. don't tell me. I'm being too hard on you. You just want to be friends right?"

His smile was thin, and stretched with just a thin line of teeth, like an Alligator on the banks of the river. Like the Alligator, it looked friendly only to those unfamiliar with any aspect of the creature, or extensive row of sharp teeth hiding in those cheerful jaws.

"Am I right?"

"See you actually just kinda listed my personal big reason with you guys. I mean, some of you have your little fluffy buddies awakening kids to fight for you as young as frikin' ten. Ten year olds, marching out and setting my boots on fire. That's all you guys. All you. I am not in the mood to make buddies with someone who's apparently old enough to die in a war half the city doesn't understand, but not old enough to crack a beer. Apparently you ARE old enough to tell me that, hey, between the part where I need to collect energy, wonder which of the new recruits are this morning's obituaries, and maybe steal starseeds in the name of kicking you freaks off this planet for a queen we've never met, I should worry about my reputation. God forbid that I not look like a shining pillar of the community when I rip someone's starseed out and watch them spiral into a coma. I'm only four more starseeds away from my next badge! SPIFFY!"

He flashed an wide, forced grin, and then threw the mostly empty beer at the trash bin.

"And you're signing up to convert? That's great kid. Not only are you a preachy child soldier, you're one who drank the Kool Aide and now you think it's going to be a peachy cuddly hug fest between MURDERS. How about I get a video camera, I can get a picture of your happy smiling face when a G.K. bangs chaos into your starseed."

He could see that the young man was getting angry and agitated, and he enjoyed it. Come on then, boy-child. Come show him how angry you were. Fiiiiiight.

"Oh my God you BOUGHT that crap? Kid you sound dumber by the second. There's nothing different about the BMC... they stood right by our side here on earth and in the surrounding and they helped us slaughter by the dozen. They corrupted after maiming, torturing and killing. Oh and branding their own, because why the ******** not. They came to US to be allies, and WE cut them loose because even ARES dumped their pathetic assess. They even lost control over their own paltry a** monsters." He laughed, and it was full of dark and bitter humor.

"I was there Junior. You're not just being ******** stupid, you're not just joining up with murderers and terrorists, you're joining the most incompetent, twisted pack of terrorists this earth has ever produced. They even have to rely on OUR corrupted cats because theirs was too smart to follow that run-away train off a cliff. But Not you huh?"

He pressed his hand into his fist, the sound of knuckles popping muffled by the protective leather.

"Kid why don't we just skip the wait list and let me give you a taste of where that hopped up Abercrombe-model is going to lead you with his bullshit."

Remarque had slapped a pair of giant a** wings on and was calling himself a prince then? Zia was going to love this if she didn't know already. He could only imagine they were stringing this idiot along in the mean time, if they hadn't already corrupted him, or maybe these self declared royals, scraping the bottom of their collective barrel, just needed that much time to pull a corruption. There was just no good tactical reason to let someone walk around like that otherwise. It made no good sense, not if you had someone with the power right damn there.

"Oh little boy, you're still wrong." Realgar continued to advance, something lighting up in his eyes that was dark, and bottomless, like a small glimpse of the Rift, perhaps, dancing in the depths of dull green eyes. "You can run if you want, and I won't blame you... because Kid. I ain't scared. I'm the ******** Boogieman, and I'm gonna tear you apart because THAT'S WHAT CHAOS DOES."

He lunged at the last, fast. blistering fast. He wasn't an still growing young boy who's mind didn't always know where his limbs were ending today, he was a well trained adult and a man who trained constantly, and studied speed like an old lover's skin.

Of course it was a terrible choice the kid was making. If he'd had half the information this boy seemed to have, maybe he'd have taken his chances on something else, but honestly, right now he didn't know. He didn't care. He'd made his choice because he wanted to live... and because he wanted to hurt people the way he'd felt hurt.

There were things that frightened him, but the negaverse was not, at this time, one of them. The pain and hate that twisted with the shadows of chaos weren't strangers to him, they were familiar, and it was only their slow consumption he fled from.

Right now he didn't want to flee from anything. Right now he wanted to hear his blood sing and revel in the silent places where darkness had numbed the little voice that, in most would whisper quietly, or scream This is wrong. Stop this.

Let the kid do whatever he wanted. Let him do it fully informed of what it meant to be part of Chaos.

"Well, you've got the scared part down, huh kid?" He barked with laughter, skidding to a stop just short of the wall and aiming a sharp, vicious kick at it. "How about you chew on this for a while? Because I'm the sort of person is looking for. Am I what you want to be, little boy? You want to be what goes bump in the night?"

He sung another mighty kick at the wall, knowing he could go around, but somehow, trying to find out if he could knock it down before the boys magic wore off seemed like a much better way to hammer him with terror.

Realgar's speed was evidently not a brief fluke and not something going away any time soon, because the bottle was swatted aside without so much as a blink and the Captain was flying at him again. The bottle, obeying the laws of physics rather than Hollywood, didn't even have the dignity to shatter when it hit the grass with a thump that was uncomfortably like a theatrical fist hitting flesh.
Perhaps to Avior's relief he seemed to be done bantering. Perhaps much less to his relief this was because he was concentrating on inflicting pain.

One bottle thrown, the other one used as an would be club... Realgar didn't even try and dodge, not really, letting Avior bring it down anyway, so close in that it couldn't finish it's swing before it thudded against the thick padded leather of the uniform. If it hurt, it didn't make it to the mans face, though it made a hollow 'tunk' sound as it impacted awkwardly.

Realgar flashed another thin grin, then wrapped his arms around Aviors, one on either half of his arm, before and after the elbow joint, and yanked savagely against the bend of the arm holding the bottle.