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 Posted: Tue Apr 23, 2019 10:20 pm
How long had it been since Ochre really fought for the Negaverse cause? How long had it been since he really drained energy, or fought a senshi? As he looked out from the vacant rooftop to the adjacent blaring theatre lights, he couldn't think of an answer. Sitting there, knees to his chest, power signature spilling out further than those dazzling lights could reach, Ochre recalled nothing.
Nothing but the day that he met Denebola, just on the other side of that roof. She didn't fight him, didn't chastise him really, just offered to help look for his brother. He hadn't seen her since, but Destiny City was huge and he found it hard enough to run into the same agents, let alone enemy senshi. She was probably still looking. Still looking for a body she'd never find. Out of everything, that was probably the part he hated the most — that these nice senshi went out of their way to give him waffles and assistance, and he couldn't get back to them in a timely manner about the verdict.
Ochre's brother was dead. Dead, and the Negaverse carried on like nothing happened. Just like that theatre — its lights kept blinking, twinkling, casting their shine on empty windows, perpetually unaware that Ochre just suffered a tragedy.
Those double doors opened and groups started to emerge — people who were friends or family all talking about whatever movie they saw. It all sounded like noise to Ochre. It all felt like noise. This was when he was supposed to be draining, but draining felt pretty draining. Thinking about draining felt draining. Duhr was right, but leaving felt draining too.
Maybe it'd all clear up if he got back into a routine. Ochre stood slowly, stretched, felt the way the night breeze curled through his hair. He guessed it was good weather for recruits to get out and about, and the theatre meant plenty of energy for a savvy drainer. Someone had to show. Then maybe Ochre could feel a little like his old self if he managed to talk to them.p a o cx lmk if anything needs a change!
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Posted: Sat Apr 27, 2019 3:21 am
The lieutenant felt the power signature as he approached the theater, thinking it'd be a good spot to catch the few stragglers that parked in or near the alleys to avoid the parking fees imposed by the theater. They'd pay for being cheap with a bit of energy for a good cause, he thought, though his expression was as neutral as it usually was when he worked alone. Which was always; the city was big and it was tough to catch other agents out and about.
Carminite wasn't looking to impress anyone though, not tonight. Tonight he was just out to drain a few unfortunate civilians. Which he did, and with speed and stealth that showed that he'd been at this for a while. Before long there were four "too drunk to stand" civilians in one of the alleys further away from the theater, leaning at various uncomfortable looking angles and against the less than pleasant surfaces of the average alley.
He scrunched his nose at the sight.
The lieutenant hopped up onto the rooftop from which the power signature was overflowing to get a view of the theater again, with the last of its patrons now just trickling through the open doors.
"Evening," he started, wanting at least to acknowledge the other's presence before anything else. It was a small sign of respect for someone of their rank. "Y'know, sometimes I feel like I should apologize for having to leave 'em helpless like that," he snorted while observing the thin crowd. Riskier now, but some were heading down the street that could potentially be his next target. He turned his eyes to the other though, then shrugged. "Better than actually dying though, I guess. Most of the time I'm honestly just glad it isn't me."
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Posted: Mon Apr 29, 2019 9:14 am
"Oh, hey." Ochre smiled warmly at the agent who just sprung up out of nowhere. Or it felt like nowhere, for how lost Ochre tended to get in his thoughts. He wasn't sure he even felt the agent with all that was going on, but the movement in his periphery was enough to break his trance.
Maybe it was inappropriate to smile at other agents. Ochre didn't know for sure, but he didn't find anything in the Negaverse training guide against it, either. Most just… Seemed super dour or too serious to have a conversation with him. This one didn't, though, since he was the one to hold up for a moment and make a side comment. To this, Ochre's smile faltered, but not for the objection. His gaze cast downward to the dirtied rooftop, where detritus liked to soak into the cracks. "Yeah. I mean, I definitely get it. Cuz like, they're gonna wake up and wonder what happened and why they were just… Asleep like that, I guess? And then the youma could come along and eat their starseeds, or some agent with no uh…" Ochre wasn't sure what word would be politically correct enough for use, so he dropped the sentence entirely.
Some things were better left unsaid. Especially the truth, Ochre learned recently. The truth was better left to the people who could tolerate it. Tolerate, because it was never a welcome thing.
"I'm glad it's not me either, but like… I wish we didn't have to do it at all? These people didn't do anything." Ochre rose, then, and stretched a little — hands over head style — then walked to another edge of the parapet. He looked down and spotted the few that this lieutenant left behind. He was nicer about it than most, and presumably they all still had their starseeds so they'd wake up later.
Then he realized what he did, and straightened up, and whipped around fast enough that his braids wrapped around his legs. He knew not to move then. "Oh, uh, I completely forgot to say something sooner. I'm Ochre," he offered along with his hand, and a bashful smile that he hoped brighten the night's work a little.
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