And My Voice You Will Always Hear
Word Count: 1134

A week passed, he knew. A week without contact - deliberately enforced. A week lacking music about the apartment, and hearing his brother’s irreverent tones spoken at anything that might hold his interest. A week that passed far quicker than Umber ever intended - filled with research and moving and obligation. He himself rarely found sleep during this time. It didn’t seem to matter when he could. He always tired.

His eyes sunk now, nestled above the blackened bags that settled near their sockets. He started to bounce back, he knew. Ten days had passed since he set a hardline requirement to sleep a minimum of six hours. Meals regained their regulation, though often planned around further research. His greatest concern was, perhaps, that it didn’t feel strange now to live without his brother. That he didn’t mind the silence, the lack of commentary, the officer to look out for. The Negaverse provided a rift between them, and Umber did not object to it as he had at first. Despite his brother’s attempts, he brought in Sandrine as a member of the Negaverse. Jack was repurposed, and to a more useful extent than Ochre. He received promotion to captaincy. He received duties fitting to one of his rank.

Umber reminded himself that he was accomplished, despite feeling the contrary. He explained to himself the importance of using Ochre’s case as a test subject for bending obstinate wills to suit Negaverse purposes. He learned a significant amount about the human mind during his research, and he started on compiling data about individual motivations to assist or rally against their faction. Progress was being had, even if he did not actively visit his kin in the prison that held him.

At once, Umber materialized in the familiar trappings of Negaspace. He often teleported in near the door to the Hall of Shadows, as was preferred. It felt more dutiful to stand at the crossroads. But here, he chose a different path - one that took him through the winding halls until he reached the familiar sight of two crystallized officers, and from there backtracked to a seldom-used dead-end hallway that never received further refinishing. It was an interesting location, he considered - from where his prison was constructed into the end of the corridor, Ochre could still see the pair of officers. Was it some kind of warning? A sign of what may come to him if his treachery grew further? The captain was uncertain.

But Umber approached with purpose, only slowing to a stop when he stood a mere few feet from the bars themselves. If the captive reached through the bars to touch him, that option remained available.

“Ochre,” he greeted in authoritative tone. But the one who remained beyond the bars was undeniably Slate, who startled at the sound of another’s presence. “Why aren’t you in uniform?”

A mix of emotions washed over the boy’s face, but none looked correct - the weeks spent with minimal human contact left him struggling to appear normal. He struggled to his feet regardless and faced the man he knew has his kin - but he did not greet with the pandering welcome that he planned. Instead Slate gripped the bars and stared back at the captain hollowly. “I got tired of all the hair,” he reasoned weakly. His voice cracked, and his pronunciation stumbled over certain consonants.

“Then power up.” He crossed arms and watched the waning, curled fists. “And keep your hands off the bars.” Crystal, they were. He wondered if they drained him when he touched them. Slate looked very much as tired as he. His exhausted mind wanted to reason some kind of connection, but Umber denied it.

Slate obliged in a stunted show of sparks and pentagrams that left the corrupted senshi standing before him. No response came.

Umber recognized that Ochre struggled to motivate himself - a certain alacrity vanished from his features. For now, he was obedient, much in the way that Quartz was obedient. He wagered that punishment alone never repurposed Ochre’s internal motivations. Perhaps it wouldn’t; he never read of POWs acquiescing to the demands of their captors without reason to. For some, it was enough to stop the pain. For others, they needed additional reasons to make that trade.

In the silence that followed, no remark was made initially. No gesture offered toward the other party. No wind blew to carry away the silence in the dark caverns of Negaspace. Finally Ochre spoke to punctuate the stagnant affair. “Hey, if you wanna wait around and stare at me, that’s fine - I got all day. And night. And everything in between.” He watched for a reaction.

Umber sighed evenly. “I wanted to give you something.” From the subspace that he grew to master, Umber summoned a hardback journal in hand with an accompanying pen. Both items slid through the bars easily, though the recipient made no move to retrieve them. Even with a shake, a gesture of immediacy, Ochre refrained from moving beyond his spot against the wall. Sensing a trap, he asked, “why aren’t you taking them?”

The answer came clipped. “I don’t want them.”

Silently he set the pair on the ground, just within the cell. Umber straightened slowly, deliberately.

“You shouldn’t be here anyway.” His eyes remained fixed on his brother, steadfast while he finally reclaimed his motivation. “I mean, did they sign you in or did you just walk past all that bureaucratic bullshit? Did you cite the actual reason you were coming to visit or did you write something you thought they’d buy? Don’t try to cheat the Negaverse, Umber, or they’ll stick you in a cage and make everyone you know treat you like some kinda lab rat. Wouldn’t want that, would you? Not with your shiny new promotion.”

The words fell between them, and for a half minute, Umber refrained from speech. He held eye contact readily. He sized up the corrupted senshi, measured the defiance in his eyes, and remained motionless. Only when confusion began to set in did the captain finally turn away. His boots echoed off the walls as readily as Ochre’s scathing vitriol.

“Hey!” Ochre started toward the bars and thrust his upper body against them, one hand clenching the cold bars while the other reached out in a fist to call attention. “Hey! The hell are you walking away for! Are you so ******** loaded with chaos that you forgot how to talk? You used to stand up for me! You could’ve gotten me out of here! You could’ve done anything but you sold me to the Negaverse and you sold Jack to it too! You don’t know what it means to be human!”

But the footsteps ceased long ago.