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The shrill yelp pierced an otherwise quiet twilight, and it would have kept ringing had it not be abruptly silenced.

Bazzite was hunting in the poorer neighborhoods, the small makeshift villages of homeless folk who gathered in and around abandoned buildings in downtown Destiny City. The seedier parts of civilization were almost always full of excellent prey - people that the proper citizens of the city wouldn’t miss. It was all too common to find these denizens asleep where they shouldn’t be, passed out from acute intoxication on someone’s doorstep, or otherwise dead of an overdose of legal or illegal substances. Bazzite knew that one homeless man shrieking in the night wasn’t something worth paying attention to, as far as the average city dweller was concerned.

Picking one or two off was a cakewalk. Bazzite crept between the tents made of tarp and old burlap with ease, nose cringing with the overwhelming smell of urine and alcohol. Definitely not the most aesthetically-pleasing place to be (and certainly, the Rift smelled exponentially better), but food was food, and the hunter was hungry.

The youma’s rather large size was offset by the darkness and general inebriation of the people around him. Possessing dark skin and carapace made sneaking that much easier - all Bazzite had to do was close his eyes if someone came too near, for his eyes were slightly illuminated and would give him away in mere moments.

Two starseeds in his belly, the youma seemed satisfied, but felt the urge to rifle through the homeless man’s quaint little tent for trinkets before leaving. After all, sometimes the most interesting things ended up in the possession of the seedier folk. Tire hubcaps, an old bowler hat, a plain gold-plated ring...

Bazzite's skin itched.

It was the same itching, that irritation like a rash that the youma recognized as being a senshi energy signature on the peripherals of his mind.

Bazzite hated itching.

The senshi placed himself in the darkness easily by calling out into the homeless encampment, giving the youma a general idea of their location. The shadows were kind to youma, allowing them to slink and slither without as much detection from the general populace. Senshi, unfortunately, could detect them from a distance, making hiding useless. Bazzite didn't care.

With a starseed in his belly, the youma poured from the too-small tent and rose to his full six-and-a-half-feet to turn and face the senshi. Fluorescent blue eyes stood out against the stark blackness and the youma did not hesitate to close the distance between himself at the senshi. Blonde, dressed in red. White Moon.

What a shame.

"What words would you have for me, senshi?" The youma's voice was alien, almost metallic and distinctly unnatural in sound. Bazzite couldn't help but smile, happy to see a much more delicious meal having presented itself.

”Oh, that’s a shame.” came an alien reply, Bazzite continuing to step closer and closer to Alya. His locust-like wings seemed to twitch in anticipation of a delicious, cosmic meal. ”I don’t get to talk to very many senshi.”

It seemed apparent then that Alya had never seen someone like himself. Bazzite had an inkling that youma shaped like people weren’t as plentiful as those shaped like animals, and not every youma had the capacity for speech. Some were animalistic but could hold a very basic conversation, or repeat the last thing said to it like a parrot would. The youma, however, didn’t like being referred to as a thing, and scowled deeply in response.

”You’re very rude, senshi.” The youma hissed, part of his lips and cheeks peeling back to reveal a jaw much bigger than his deceptively human face would have the capacity to carry. ”Calling me a thing. I am not a thing, but you? You are a delicious meal. You should stick around…”

Opening his wings to their full width, the youma vibrated each one quickly, releasing several tiny spores into the air. The vibration in itself was loud and distinctive, like a gargantuan bee or a wasp beating its wings in preparation for flight.

The youma seemed absolutely amused by Alya, stepping ever closer, slowly. A toothy grin spread across his features as Bazzite stepped through the spores easily. They didn't seem to have any effect on him. The sound of beating wings dying down, his voice could be more easily heard.

"But senshi, what makes you think I want your flesh? It's your soul that every youma wants. Your starseed." A long claw reached out to point towards Alya's chest, where the delicious treasure lay hidden. If Benitoite was here, the General may have wanted Alya alive for corruption into the Negaverse. It begged the question - which was worse? Being devoured, or being corrupted?

Bazzite could easily outrun this senshi with minimal effort, but sauntering towards him as he backed away was surprisingly fun. "My name is Bazzite, senshi. What's your name?" They were nearing an alley now where several tents were propped and homeless dredges were sleeping in stench and alcohol.

Closer and closer and closer...

The fact that Alya was frightened of him almost endeared the blonde to the youma. Normally he didn’t like to play with his food - too messy, too noisy, and he was usually too hungry to bother with such things. Other, more intelligent or conniving youma might be more prone to the slow stalking and torture of a victim before consumption. Bazzite’s previous meal might have been Alya’s saving grace. If the blue locust beast were still hungry, the senshi would have been pounced on-sight, without any sort of introduction.

”You don’t want to hurt me?” Bazzite’s lungs birthed a ragged, metallic-sounding laugh. ”Alyaaaaaa, I’m a General’s partner. That means I’m a lot stronger than you. And my General isn’t around to tell me not to eat you, so…”

The youma let the sentence trail off as Alya started to side-step the alley. Bazzite noticed and smiled in response. So the senshi was bright! Good, good. One quick pounce was easy with such long and powerful legs, but that would end things too quickly. The offer to go somewhere more private seemed to brighten the youma’s mood. With a toothy grin, Bazzite quickly agreed. ”Yeeees, that would be good, Alya. Do you have friends too? We could have a party~”

Edging closer still, Bazzite picked up the pace, lengthening his strides to close the distance between them that much faster.

Bazzite could practically smell the delicious, crunchy, sparkling little soul Alya’s chest had to offer him. The closer the youma came to the senshi, the more monstrous his visage became. It was almost as if hunger had overtaken Bazzite’s face and distorted it, peeling back mottled flesh to reveal sharp teeth and a gullet just aching for a soul.

A startled shriek erupted from the youma as red light stuck him. Bazzite made to brush off his face and chest as if coated with some strange substance, but found himself utterly…

...unconcerned.

The creature’s movements towards Alya stopped immediately and Bazzite dropped his long arms, simply staring at the senshi for a few moments. His insectoid wings vibrated briefly, the beastly gaze broken as Bazzite huffed and looked towards the alley that contained several startled homeless folk huddled together in terror. The youma, a well-honed predator, seemed bored with his usual prey as well. The homeless were awakened not only by Alya’s shouting, but by Bazzite’s horrific response.

Shoulder relaxed. At the very least, Bazzite wasn’t currently interested in pursuing Alya or the homeless folk. He simply stood there, unconcerned, face neutral and almost bored. Muttering to himself, the beast turned away from both the alley and Alya and started to walk back towards the settlement from which he had come.