But that would be an abuse of privilege, wouldn't it? Slate tried to reason this within himself to kill the time. Walking had its benefits, too - he found all the time he needed to mull over whatever he chose, and yet he found himself averse to thinking about much of anything right now. The more he tried to think, the more his skull throbbed from the effort. All parts of his life turned to the Negaverse recently, and he simply wasn't interested in anything else. He didn't want to think about violin. He didn't want to think about going to the movies. And, sometimes, he didn't even want to think about Porsha - just Xenotime.
So as he lugged his groceries along, the bag hooked over his shoulder, he tried to think about anything but the Negaverse. Sniffing gently, he thought about what they might do once the war was done, but such a thought left him fearful and questioning.
No on that, then. He considered getting a job - more fear. He thought about maybe picking up busking again - fear again. He wondered what it would be like to reach 21 and drink legally - same response.
He sighed, and kept his head low. The walk would prove the longest of his life.
Witherite sat on the rooftop ledge looking down at the passersby, not that there were many people about right now. He was waiting, for nothing in particular, mostly bored. He figured he needed to drain, two maybe three more civilians than he could turn in for the night. His head turned noticing a stock of red hair and grinned, he liked red hair, but also it reminded him of that page he wanted to kill. Whoever this guy was, he picked the wrong street to walk down and didn’t seem to be paying attention.
He wondered briefly on the amount of energy he needed, looking to the red head and wondering if maybe he could push the limits with this one. Pull enough that maybe he might be able to just stumble home, assuming he didn't get caught up in the moment and simply drop the kid. He shrugged and stood, stepping of the rooftop and landing in the alley. He was tempted of course, to scare the s**t out of the guy, maybe teleport right up behind him. It lacked subtlety, but it would amuse him. He didn’t think he was up for the chase currently, if the guy decided to run.
He leaned back against the brick wall and decided to just wait, he’d yank the other into the alley when he walked by. Startle him without the chance for him to fun.
Slate's mind continued to wander as he walked. The evening grew darker, yet no sense of urgency came with it. If anything, he found it exciting.
The groceries rustled against his back during the long journey home.
It didn't take long for the other to reach the alley, still oblivious to the fact that he had basically become prey. Witherite allowed the other just a few steps ahead of him before he quickly darted out of the alley and grabbed the other roughly by the arm. He cared not for the groceries the other carried, but was quick enough that if they were dropped it would be in the alley and not on the street.
He gave the redhead a feral sort of grin, “hello there, tonight is your lucky night.. You get to meet my acquaintance and help me meet a very specific goal. I’m assuming you are up for this … not that you have a choice in the matter.”
The grinned didn't fall away as his grip on the other’s arm tightened and he made to press him up against the wall. “I’m in a generous mood tonight, so maybe you’ll still be conscious to walk home.”
Slate was snatched straight out of his thoughts - suddenly his location, his surroundings became a concern to him. The bag snapped in his hand, sending household necessities tumbling to the ground. The box of sugar tracked underfoot and Slate stumbled; one of the bananas was crushed as he tried to right himself. The ground grew slippery with the amalgamation of merchandise, and Slate struggled to stay standing.
He found himself trapped in the grasp of a man in deep purples, and briefly he thought the man looked like a Negaverse agent. But Negaverse agents could look like anyone - often times that was how they blended into crowds for draining energy - so the chance remained that this guy was some kinda lunatic. Which, judging by the way he spoke, Slate was starting to think so. What the hell kind of goal did this dude have in mind? Did he have any idea he was messing with a corrupted senshi? Or what if he was one of those gang members and he was about to get shived for all the money he didn't have? Slate's mind ran with possibilities.
"Uh," Slate started unintelligibly. He swallowed against the grip; even knowing his own power, he found the situation terrifying. "Are you going to mug me? Cuz I uh, I don't really… Have any money. I mean, I know people who do, but uh…" Slate checked his surroundings, and found the alley cramped. Devoid of hiding places wherein he could henshin. Porsha would find him though, right?
"I promise I uh, I don't… really have anything to offer." He tried to smile, but his lips said nope.
Witherite rolled his eyes and frowned, “I’m not a petty thief … trust me, what I want from you if far more valuable.” His free hand went to pet the head of red hair, before he loosened his grip on the others arm just a little and started to pull his energy from him. His free hand moved to grab the redheads other arm and he debated pulling more energy, it would certainly made the process quicker.
Instead he chose to grip the small arm and give it a painful squeeze. “Feeling tired,” he said still grinning giving the arm another tight squeeze. He was certain it would bruise, but he cared very little, the mark would be a reminder. “Maybe you’ll pay more attention to your surroundings from now on … you know assuming someone doesn't finish you off before you make it home.”
He looked to the groceries scattered down the alley pavement, “or back to the store … assuming you are that dumb.” He gave something of a dark chuckle, he was a little off kilter. Draining people did this too him, he lost it a bit, pulling starseeds had much the same effect. He often lost control.
Slate's mind went to darker avenues when he felt the hand in his hair, but his assailant quickly dispelled those thoughts. Slate recognized what he was doing immediately, and pushed against the man's chest with all his might. "No! Wait! Nonononono! You're making a mistake! You can't drain me!" He objected vehemently. How was he supposed to explain the mistake to this officer? Was he expected to simply reveal himself to someone who just attacked him? What was the protocol for this? Slate remembered no cautionary tales about how to identify oneself to other agents in times like this.
And since he was already tired, he lacked a lot of options. "I'm part of the Negaverse, okay? Can you not? Do? This???" Slate's tone hiked as he wound through his objections. "What's your name and rank? I am totally reporting you to the higher-ups…" Ugh, this is some kind of messed up… Maybe I'll ask Porsha to get the groceries from now on. I dunno how she balances her life and this when people like this a*****e come along and like, ******** up your day for no reason… Maybe this is what it's like to get drained as a civilian.
Perhaps it was just his luck, though, to face a trial like this.
Wither was surprised to see the other fight like he did. A little lost in the moment, he didn't realize at first the other’s objections. The word drain barely filtered through, but when the word negaverse he snapped out of it, feral grin falling away to a strong look of confusion before Wither dropped the red heads arms like they burned him. He stared at the other and the only word he managed to utter was, “... s**t”
He frowned and raised an eyebrow at the other’s words before his smirk returned giving the other a pointed look. “If you are a negaverser, you are a poor excuse for one. Seriously, you could have avoided this. You ought to be able to assess the situation better, stay calm under pressure … are you new?” He raised a blonde brow.
“I’m not telling you anything. For one my rank is obvious, if you even looked at my uniform,” it wasn’t as it the medals he wore were hidden in anyway. The one denoting his rank, sat above the rest, he wore one from the invasion that was given out when Laurelite became queen. At the moment he was really unimpressed with however this was.
He was very tempted to just disappear on the spot, but he refrained. He would have to go straight to Beni after this and attempt to save face, just in case he did manage to get into trouble for this little incident. At the very least he may be handing an apology to a general, assuming whoever this was had one. It was clear at least the redhead wasn’t a general himself.
"Ow," came the first response from his mouth. Now released from the tight grip, Slate rubbed his arm gently. The officer had a tight grip, and Slate wasn't much a fan of it out of uniform. Nor was he a fan of the other man's words, in which he was chastised for getting too far inside his own head to watch his surroundings. And he was right - at no point in his day did Destiny City stop being a warzone.
Still, what kind of an excuse was that for draining one of your own officers?
"It's not like I got a chance to go looking you over before you snatched me into this alley," Slate quipped smartly. "Besides, it's like, dark in here. Look, you don't have to be a d**k about making a mistake. Just apologize, and I'll just… Go home and sleep it off, I guess." It's not like I get any super cool perks for being a super senshi. And besides, this dude's a captain. Same rank is totally lame. Lecturing him over his shortcomings wasn't unusual; Slate spent months in Negaverse jail for his attempts to protect Sandrine - now Haüyne - from Umber's treachery. Plus, it wasn't like he shaped up to be the best officer the Negaverse had to offer.
He tried to create some distance between them, and nearly slipped on some of the crushed groceries. Yeah, Porsha would be pissed at the end of this.
Wither shook his head chuckling, “... I let you go a few steps past me before I snatched you. You could have spotted me, I did not grab you right away. You're just making excuses and poor ones at that … it’s not that dark.” He rolled his eyes and gave the other something of a pleasant smile before holding his hand out of the other to potentially shake.
His grin turned feral though once more, “I … am …” he paused for a long moment before continuing, “not sorry. Go home.”
He turned and shook his head before disappearing on the spot. Time to go get fussed at for the incident and at least turn in what he gathered. ‘Damn oblivious nega babies.’
"Hey, can you like, cut me some slack? I've got a lot on my mind, okay?" No matter how he objected to the treatment, the officer had a point - he shouldn't be spending all his time upstairs. And it wasn't very dark out. He just failed to pay attention, which left him in a tizzy. Now the guy had some of his energy, probably planned to turn it in, and Slate had to deal with the consequences of a long sleep afterward. Xenotime would probably caution him to take it as a wake-up call - but she was similarly excellent at diffusing his frustrations.
When the man held out his hand, though, Slate was happy to try and return the handshake. Until the officer declared his complete lack of remorse. d**k, he thought bitterly.
Like a coward, he teleported away, and left Slate to clean up the remains of the groceries. Some of it could be salvaged, and the walk home wasn't a long one, but he felt all the more exhausted to do it now. Perhaps he should've been thankful that he wasn't forced to reveal himself before moving on.
Blessings were few these days.
Kaori_luv
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