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 Posted: Tue Mar 18, 2014 12:34 pm
Wolframite was dressed against as WP, the White Phoenix, in a full black cloak, a black capelet that covered his upper body, black pants, and the hood covering his head. A white mask was worn with no distinct details.
He was here in town following any signature. Not senshi or knight only. ANY. His hunt was not for starseeds as his duty was not to the Negaverse for simple orb collecting, but for it's security into the future. He was still in uniform, under the disguise, but he was not appearing as Wolframite. He could not, for if he did, his plans would be destroyed in an insanity with him.
What blip on his radar came was one of his own. A like aura. Familiar energy from the same source, but was it like minded, he didn't know.
He had to find out.
Following the figure, he stepped down from a billboard, and turned on the street - slowly. There was no need to rush and put the Negaverser at more unease than a mysterious figure like himself would. Even if you killed people in your line of work, seeing anyone is a mask tended to be creepy this time of night.
Coming closer, he rose his hands up. "Hello." He called out.
Strickenized Time to join the anti-DMC gang. OuO
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Posted: Fri Mar 21, 2014 12:06 pm
The general stood motionlessly atop the back of the bench, heels perched precariously atop the slatted wood. Hardly a breeze drifted aimlessly through the street, peeling through feathers with traipsing fingers before simpering into the deeper alleys of the somnolent city. The Saarlander watched discarder strash skitter along the corners of the sidewalk, styrofoams and plastics and wrappers alike, left littered across the roads from hands long dead now. Idly he wondered how much trash accumulated from death alone, outside of careless discards out car windows.
But those thoughts mattered so little now.
How many strange aeons crossed his path now? How many allies and enemies alike met him with equal protest? Leto. Remarque. Persephone. Zinkenite. Ida. Thraen.
Thraen.
Even the name alone drew a charged smile to his lips, his skin practically alight with the electrifying sensation from remembrance alone. Of all his formidable meetings, his nightly tussles with those who rallied against him so greatly, none stood closer to enacting change than the super senshi himself. And now, with so many nights behind them, the executioner had yet to claim his victim.
'Victim' is an interesting word. I choose 'survivor' instead.
Oh, but he drew company now.
"Is zat any way to greet your peers, General?" The lilting, foreign voice called back. Gold eyes settled on the masked figure, slightly narrowed in a quiet mix of mirth and irritation. Bischofite flashed the man a thin smile - only teeth peered out to welcome him. "Your signature betrays you. Most of our allies prefer to avoid me, not seek me out so brazenly. I wager by ze tone of your voice zat you are not Benitoite, and he lacks a reason to approach me in such a clandestine manner. Too short for Obsidian, too male for Painite, too weak for Zinkenite." He cited, counting the names off his fingertips. Slowly the feathered general stepped down form his perch, once atop its seating surface and the last atop the pavement as he approached his strange assailant.
With fingers laced, Bischofite cocked his head to the side while he abridged the remainder of the great distance between them. With over six inches of height difference between them, the Saarlander leaned over to meet the man's gaze through his curious white mask. Unmarred by shaped features, painted accents or typical cracks, the damnable symbol of anonymity looked absolutely impeccable. A single gloved finger brushed against the chin of the strange mask, threatening to peel it upwards for a glimpse at the man inside. "I like a good mystery, but I lack ze patience to solf'e such puzzles myself. Tell me your purpose, and I might abstain from peeling zat mask away."
"I like you already, General - try not to spoil it."
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Posted: Fri Mar 21, 2014 6:56 pm
Strickenized I am laughing. OMG. Bis just gives no fs at all.
Crossing his arms, he looked at the General before he started to come over. Just straight walked up to him, something no other person had done during his recruiting. Not directly or without concern of losing an arm, but then again, all others had Order signatures or were lower in rank. This officer, however, just waltzed right up as if he was a cocker spaniel bearing no threat to him at all and just – just –
Just touched him!
There had been a faint brush of fingers as he traced the mask, and he felt a chill, and placed a hand over his mask to keep it firmly in place before using his other arm to shove him back.
“I am here to talk, and I don’t care for your pointless threats!” He said, stepping back and trying to keep his heart from racing.
He had never met this General before, but he had never expected him to act so rudely to him. Not only that, but he was smart in how quickly he went down the list of officers that matched what limited amount of information his disguise gave. Voice, height, and power signature were something he couldn't exactly hide unless he wanted to nail blocks to his boots and make a fake, terrible voice. He’d rather not try to intimidate Batman poorly and risk not being taken seriously. The mask was enough of a hindrance.
“I am here to discuss a matter of sensitivity. One that I do not know your stance on and want to know. One that is urgent and serious.” And does not require the use of hands on his mask.
“It regards the DMC. How are you handling the alliance?”
He wasn’t sure he could even trust this officer. If he said he was their friend, he would leave – gladly!
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Posted: Sun Mar 23, 2014 3:51 pm
Bischofite laughed mirthlessly at his immediate reaction, though he did not linger beyond the man's grasp for long. "Zen talk," came his soft reply, stifling gaze lingering on the expressionless mask. "Interessant," he commented, largely to himself. "I could make one better. One of bone, perhaps..." To see through corpses. It's not so far from Quenton's idea.
The figure's question sparked a nerve that shattered the misanthrope's previous curiosity. Straightening up, Bischofite tried to stifle a snarl of derision at the name alone. "What alliance, Masked One? By auric energy alone, I know you are wiser to zese political pissing contests zan you're letting on. Zat petulant collection of ghosts manipulating children's bodies never garnered any fondness from me, but you did not come here to incite my long-winded tirades about ze audacity of our ex-allies. To answer your question personally, I'd sooner eviscerate myself in a harrowing practice of taxidermy zan spend anozzer minute defending zeir pointless, insipid little court.
"And to answer your question to an official capacity, I am handling ze alliance just fine." Peeling back the top of his coat marginally, Bischofite immersed a hand into the confines and produced an ornate case. Upon clicking it open, he produced a set of four cigarettes on each side. After claiming one for his own, he offered the remainder toward the masked figure. "Cigarette? Oh, you might haf' to remof'e zat mask to enjoy it. A pity," he returned in mock condolence.
Once he pursed the cigarette between his lips, Bischofite then withdrew a lighter from a separate pocket. Nondescript save for initials carved into the base, it held no apparent sentimentality. Perhaps that was just as well. A flick of his thumb and a flame eked out of the tip, with which he lit his cigarette to satisfaction. After taking a drag, he levered a glance of expectation toward the much shorter general. "So tell me, Fantôme de l'Opéra, why inquire about such sings? What does my derision or delight toward ze Dark Mirror Court haf' to do wis' zis urgency you spoke of?"
"Additionally..." Bischofite embarked on a slow pace around the cloaked figure. "Why hide your identity, kleine Mensch? Are you seeking a traitorous act? Or are you on a mission requiring utmost secrecy? I would like to know." Finally he drew to a halt behind the man and reached just above the general's head in an attempt to pluck the mask from his face.MoonKitsune bisch says let me seeeeeeeee
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Posted: Sun Mar 23, 2014 4:15 pm
Strickenized No Bisch. I'm a nearly-married man. Be gentle! U//_//U;
This wasn't helped by Bischonite’s movements as he circled round.
WP yelped as he found the other behind him, tugging at his mask, and quickly shoved his hood down and placed his hand on his mask to keep it in place, stepping around and away from the other General.
“Stop that!” He shouted, getting very annoyed by the other officer’s persistence to see his face, not to mention all the witty puns he was making about it. It was a disguise! Not Halloween fun here. He was talking about a very serious matter and this General was getting handsy. Wolframite didn’t like handsy.
Holding his mask and glaring, he made sure to keep a respectable distance.
“The mask is only to approach those who might side with the DMC. Some would call what I am doing treachery, especially with whoever I can find who wants to be involved, and I have been dragged through the Hall of Traitors before. I know what risk comes from going against the DMC. One you should be aware of.” Losing all your powers. Being stripped of everyone you could be and were. He could only assume memories would go with loosing that power if it was anything like being purified or corrupted. Or worse, he would be left with those memories and be too weak to do anything about it.
“I will show you who I am, to the other officers who are with me since they also risk the same punishment, only if you decide to join. Then if you want to make me a new mask, you can make one out of the skull of Leto herself and whoever else I can rip apart. Do you want to take part on that arts ‘n crafts project or what?” His patience was nearly spent, and with the smoke, lighter, the suddenly touching, and the mask tugging, he felt too paranoid and nervous now to be kind and cool.
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Posted: Sun Mar 23, 2014 4:47 pm
"Oh but I wonder which is worse for me - smoking, or being an a*****e?" Nonetheless he pocketed the case at the officer's decline.
"Rhetoric aside, your decision to hide your face is a smart one. Surely zose interested in assisting ze Dark Mirror would provide your name, address, and ze color of your boxers to ze highest ausority interested in suppressing your little rebellion." Leaning over slightly, Bischofite flashed the cloaked man a feral smile. With his hands now free of smoking paraphernalia, a pair of chakrams materialized in his grasp. Lamp light reflected across their smooth surfaces and danced along smoky brick wall. "And some of zeir more brazen allies would seek to attack you on ze spot, or call to arms additional assistance to bring you to your knees.
"Despite my utter derision for mankind, I can still pay credit where credit is due. Vordenker, I will call you for now, until your name and identity become known to me. Prophet. Mastermind. What you call into action is a revolution, and inherent in any act stemming from zat vein is a chaotic cacophony so sick zat it's palpable. If nossing else, I would follow you to immerse myself in rancor." Afterward the general extended his arms outward to mimic a balanced scale. Vor und nach. Ahead and behind. Though you think ahead, are you backpedaling in reality? Vordenker, will your road lead to perdition? I would like to see the deepest pits of hell before I die.
"I know not of zis Hall of Traitors. Perhaps it is not quite traitorous to attack a non-ally, but... I would like to know of ze worst fates ze Negaverse has to offer." Pressing his chakrams together in a prayer position, the weapons dissipated into nothingness - all that remained were steepled fingers, along with feverish thoughts directed to the mystery enshrouding the Hall of Traitors.
The general's half-lidded gaze fell on his ally with a c**k of his head. Drawing an audible breath, a row of teeth shone thinly between his teeth. This time he approached the shorter general in a more professional manner, halting at a respectable distance with no outward signs of interest in the man's mask. "I will accompany you, Vordenker. I only hope you maintain a more level head in battle zan you do in banter." Another mischievous smile flashed across his features.MoonKitsune pfft bisch is not familiar with that word
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Posted: Sun Mar 23, 2014 5:27 pm
Strickenized Aww. What a beautiful, budding friendship.
There were many risks still, and Wolframite knew them. He knew that all the years he had worked with the Negaverse, all that time dedicated to rise in the ranks, could be for nothing by pulling this stunt. If it didn’t mean something, if it could finally put him at rest, then he wouldn’t have bothered. He couldn’t sleep easily at night thinking the DMC was still around and aligned with them in any way. It tainted the faction he dedicated his life to, and it went against those who were murdered by the DMC’s hands that he had called comrade.
Worse of all, it hurt the memory of Tanzanite.
“You don’t have to call me that name. I go by WP.” He said, pulling out a pre-paid phone and offering it to him, extending his arm as much as he could to give him some distance. “It is listed on the phone. I’ll be using them to contact you when we meet to go over the plan of attack. If you are smart, I would wear a mask too. A senshi or anyone else would be happy to give your identity over later down the road. I will be advising the other members of Chaos I have collected to do the same.”
He shook the phone as he pointed it at hm. ““I fight and talk just fine!” He shouted back. “You are just too handsy for your own good. My energy signature is just as strong as yours. That means I’m not some green-horn who doesn’t know anything. You should have more respect for other officers.” He huffed back.
Rude!
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Posted: Thu Mar 27, 2014 8:02 pm
"Too handsy? General, wis' me you must understand zat respect is earned. It is not awarded freely to zose who attain equal or greater rank - and zat has little to do wis' any amount of arrogance. My respect exacts a high price on my own life, you see, one zat results in... catastrophic consequences. I simply cannot afford to respect you wis'out ample proof of your wors'. Zat said, your flustered retorts bear no persuasion. Maybe your tactics for genocide could counterbalance your... woefully lacking presence." Despite his harsh words, Bischofite pocketed the phone with little qualm. However, he never glanced through the list of contacts - after all, he would find little more than a seemingly random abbreviation as a poor substitute for a name.
"Fine, Vordenker. WP. General. You will haf' my participation, if only for ze fact zat you open a unique brand of Pandora's box. I will heed your call, if only for ze resulting chaos stemming from your actions." Drawing to his full height, Bischofite leveled a half-lidded gaze at his peer as he crossed his arms behind his back. "I will fashion a mask at your recommendation. However, if zere are individuals present who haf' met me previously, a mask amounts to nossing more zan in ineffectual half-measure. Anyone could identify me by accent alone." Never before had he crossed paths with another foreign general, and he suspected the same results for most others. Regardless, the opportunity to fashion a mask fascinated him at a more civilian level, commanding more draw than obscuring his somewhat infamous identity.
"Be sure to call, WP. I shudder to sink you might forget me." With a feigned sigh, Bischofite drew past the considerably shorter general - yet his arm strayed outward just far enough to run a dextrous finger across the bottom edge of the man's mask in passing. A slow chuckle escaped the misanthrope's lips; already he enjoyed himself in the strangers company. After all, he quite enjoyed an easy mark sometimes.
To eliminate the Dark Mirror entirely... Even if they succeeded, would that permanently eradicate their presence? Without a clear understanding of their origins, Bischofite wondered if a strange rift between dimensions may manifest in the future, amounting to another invasion of their kind... Unlikely, but Zirconia herself cited traveling to this dimension in the form of pure consciousness - her starseed adrift between worlds. Fantastical as her account may be, Bischofite shied from discounting her entirely.
"Tschüß, WP," Bischofite offered in departure, shortly before his visage and auric energy immediately winked out of existence. A turn of the world later, and his likeness reappeared across town - not far from a residence sporting lamps alight in the dead of night.MoonKitsune fin! sorry that took me so long to post!
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