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It took everything in his power not to march right into Axinite’s office the moment they got back into Negaspace, but Jet had still been covered in Rift dust and who knew what else. He was exhausted and angry and he really didn’t want to mistakenly take out his frustration on Axinite.

So he and Lovely went home, spent more time not sleeping, but there was at least a shower thrown in there at some point. One that was desperately needed after everyone almost died after a few people made huge mistakes. And after he’d thought both Aquamarine and Faustite and many others had been turned permanently into youma.

He entered the office shortly after Faustite but before Aquamarine who was on his heels anyway.

“Sir,” he greeted, a bit more clipped than his normal greeting might have been. He’d had some time to sleep, but he was still stressed by how poorly everything went. The Negaverse certainly wasn’t what it used to be. There were too many people who didn’t know what they were doing, who didn’t follow orders, who didn’t work as a team.

The moment the three of them walked in, Axinite looked up from his desk as if he could feel a palpable dread descend upon the room. He lowered his pen uncertainly. Faustite seemed like he was forcing himself to talk. Jet seemed like he was forcing himself not to.

Aquamarine was offering him a drink.

Kamacite wasn’t here.

He didn’t reach for the alcohol, but neither did he reject it, and he looked from the glasses to the faces of the three Generals before him. Faustite had secured the scales but he didn’t seem happy about it, and it didn’t take long to deduce that something had gone wrong.

Brows knit, Axinite reached to wrap both hands around the glass he’d been offered; he still didn’t lift it.

“Who did we lose?” he asked. Sometimes he was decent at hiding his nerves.

Sometimes, he wasn’t.

The thought of losing anyone made him anxious, and he looked between the three--now more suspicious of Kamacite’s absence than ever.

Jet was trying to remain calm. He’d purposefully taken the time to rest a little and get freshened up before this meeting. But the flippant way Faustite -- or not-Faustite -- told the General King to check the report had him gritting his teeth and head snapping in the glamorized half-youma General’s direction.

“I’d like to check your report!” Jet almost barked, but was trying to keep his voice lowered due to being in the General King’s office. “Well? Why don’t you play your report then. It’s audio, isn’t it? Because everything burns when you touch it and you only have so many hours in that form, don’t you? That’s why you don’t have a usable communicator, right? And I had to issue orders for you, which you then had a problem with?”

He forced himself to look away from Faustite’s human form so he could return his attention to Axinite. “You don’t have to worry about checking the report. I’ll tell you everything right now. That’s the point of this meeting, isn’t it?”

Why would they bother showing up and wasting Axinite’s time if they weren’t going to discuss what happened? Why not just let him read, or listen, to a report and be done with it?

“We lost more than we should have. I told you I don’t consider anyone expendable, and you talk like that’s all they were. I don’t want to be part of an organization that just values warm bodies, although you’re the warmest of them all, so you’ve got nothing to worry about!”

At some point he’d turned his attention to not-Faustite again.

Axinite’s eyes darted between the three of them as each spoke, and it seemed as though he’d bristled first at Faustite’s insistence to read the report--as if Axinite would have ever been unprepared for a meeting like this.

He just wasn’t aware that a report had been submitted, so even as Jet was having his outburst, he was trying to pull it up on the tablet. His eyes darted from the loading screen to the three in front of him. He could infer that there was more going on here than what stemmed from just the mission, but he was already on edge, himself.

The additional emotions in the room didn’t help how displaced he felt.

Naturally, any mission that had any loss of life should be considered a failure in some regard, and he was rapidly collecting his thoughts on the matter because at least a dozen had been lost.

They’d recovered the scales, but he needed to hear that it was worth it.

They were still alive to learn from whatever mistakes they'd seen, and if he’d had to guess he would assume that they were all processing this in their own way. He wondered if Faustite’s brevity was comparable to Jet’s anger; he wondered if it was an expression of dissatisfaction, or anger, or guilt.

He didn't presume to know what he was thinking, but he wanted to find out.

Axinite interrupted neither; he had left the drink abandoned and didn’t seem to have any intention of scolding Faustite or silencing Jet during his outburst.

People were always more honest when they were angry, he thought.

He wanted to know what they really thought about this mission. About all of this.

Nothing.

Faustite said nothing in defense of himself, or the mission. He sat there in his glamorized form with his mouth shut and his fingers digging into the arms of the chair. And he said nothing.

Of those in the room, Jet had yet to take a seat. He stared at Faustite, his teeth clenched, eyes wild--

But then he straightened himself, folded his hands behind his back, and forced his attention on Axinite.

“Although there were casualties, the mission was a success as far as obtaining the scales from the shapeshifting youma. The plan was easy enough to follow. The last known location of the youma was in a place called the Scar. Three teams. One for each level to look for clues. The team on the bottom was expected to see the most danger with the youma that lived there. The team led by myself and Aquamarine in the middle, and then Faustite’s team up top, were supposed to assist if necessary.

"Turns out a General on Faustite’s team decided to pull out a starseed, after being given explicit instructions not to bring any into the Rift. Their team escaped, but several went missing in the process.

"Even though we gathered enough evidence to determine our target, I suggested calling off the mission that night when we regrouped at the bottom of the cliffs. At that time there were only two known fatalities and a handful of agents that went missing. Faustite wanted to search for the missing agents. He gave himself three hours to look and if he didn’t make it back, I would call the retreat, but he made it back empty handed.

"Several hours later, after allowing the teams to rest, we sought the youma again. When struck by its scales, there seemed to be a temporary youmafying effect on agents. However, a Super Senshi decided to pull her starseed to draw attention, and started a stampede on already treacherous walkways that ended up breaking and costing us the majority of our casualties. After a diversion, we were able to command enough youma to escape back to the bottom of the cliffs and back to the rest of Negaspace.

"I recommend the agents who pulled out starseeds be punished by demotion, with the addition of at least a stern talking to for General Benitoite, who threw his spear without any consideration for the group of agents between him and his target.”

Axinite had seen many things, done many things, during his tenure with the Negaverse. The Rift had been new to him when he came to Destiny City, and he hadn’t enjoyed his time down there. He didn’t like the suffocating Chaos, the unpredictability of youma. He was used to them obeying.

As he listened, he felt himself doubting all of it, but his face shifted into something impassive and difficult to read. Faustite’s silence left him unsettled; the lack of rebuke or defense did little to ease the General King’s nerves, and Jet’s impassioned summary made his stomach twist. He’d had the chance to glance over the report, in small bits and pieces, because he kept glancing up to make sure there wasn’t going to be a fight in his office.

Cookies and electrolytes wouldn’t ease this situation.

“Faustite,” he said, “Please stop hurting yourself." Because he cared, not just because he didn’t want to pick up fingernails from his floor later.

He drew in a breath and took a moment to collect his thoughts. Axinite was the least intimidating of the General Sovereigns; he didn’t have Lepidolite’s bulk and loudness, nor Hessonite’s sharp eyes and simmering menace. He almost couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt dangerous.

It used to be his job to punish disobedience, to apply pressure to make them into something greater.

“Perhaps I have contributed to this disappointment. I have neglected proper training for missions and protocol. I’ll look into scheduling some courses.”

There was something simmering beneath the surface, but Axinite didn’t voice anything of it immediately. He gripped the tablet tightly and tried to return his eyes to the screen but he couldn’t focus on the words. He could read the report in detail later.

Aqua might have been right that it was better that their enemy didn’t see any lack of coordination, but if they hadn’t had this fallout in the Rift, maybe more of them could have been saved. Maybe there would have been less casualties. Maybe if he’d gone with them--

He grit his teeth and finally reached up a hand to rub at his eyes, like it would wipe away the dark circles and stress.

“I trust that the report fully details those who disobeyed orders or caused unnecessary danger for the team. I’ll reach out to them and discuss their future with the Negaverse.”

It was a small assurance, but Axinite was not known for making quick decisions.

“What could we have done to improve the outcome of this mission?” he asked, looking between the three of them. Emotions aside, he was determined to know what they could take from this and fix, so it never happened again. “--And where is Kamacite? You brought him back, didn’t you?”

Axinite bristled immediately because something wasn’t right.

This wasn’t the standard disobedience of an officer who didn’t like what they were hearing, or someone who seemed like they were trying to run from their problems and avoid confronting them.

He was rising from his seat even before Faustite reached the door.

“Faustite,” he said firmly, but without any frustration or accusation.

He looked to Aqua and Jet, apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’d like to speak to General Faustite alone.” He meant no disrespect, and he tried to communicate that with his eyes--especially because Jet had already passionately discontent with how the mission had gone. And Aqua, who had graciously brought drinks. “Please let me reschedule a meeting with you two, I’d like to go over the report and ask for your suggestions later.”

He looked up from them, back at Faustite--who he was fully prepared to summon back to his desk--as many times as he needed, even, until he got him to stay put.

“Come back here.”

It was not a request.