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Shopping districts like this were great places for an energy pull. All you had to do was stay within range, keep yourself hidden and focus. If you got enough practice in you could pull without having to look at your targets. With patience and finesse, it barely even made a difference -- maybe a couple of people would yawn or suddenly need to sit down, but it was nothing that would raise alarm. All in a day's work to feed Metallia.

Julian had done it plenty of times, years ago. He figured he would find a Negaverse agent trying to fill their quota around here eventually. Either that, or someone would plant a youma here eventually as surveillance to track enemy patrols. He decided to scope the place out powered down. Now he was meandering around the back-lots, occasionally rapping at dumpsters to see if anything would pop out.

Nothing so far.

Only a chance glance in the right direction alerted Julian to the lurking youma. He sighed and rolled his eyes at himself, realizing the foolishness of his approach, as well as the fact that, once again, one was showing up when he thought there weren't any around.

Seriously, though, why the <********> was he doing this powered down??

He needed to act fast. Thankfully, there was another dumpster nearby that was a little more out of sight. He dashed over to it, hopped in, powered up, and made use of his little shadow trinket -- reappearing some meters away in the shadow of a building on the opposite side.

With rubbish hanging from his shoulders and hat, of course. There was a stray bit of plastic bag on his spade, even.

Asphodel Knight felt thoroughly ridiculous, but better ridiculous than some innocent person getting eaten. He dashed to close the distance between himself and Metallia's pet, and lunged at it with his newly-decorated weapon. The civilian would hopefully just run off and not ask any questions.

The youma in question had quickly snapped its jaws around the handle of Asphodel's spade, and he was wrestling to break it free. Still, through the struggle, he cast his gaze over to the civilian and said, "Yes. Hold on a second," before twisting his torso in an attempt to throw it off. His reward for his effort was a snarl and a dripping of violently-colored fluid from its fangs that ate through the fabric of his pants.

"Acid bite, are you ******** --" he sighed, and yanked his arms back, and finally freed his spade again. Annoyance creased his features as he regarded the woman again. "This thing used to be a person. Then the Negaverse --"

An abrupt sinking of fangs into his ankle cut him off. The youma bit straight through the boot. Asphodel shouted gracelessly in pain, and said, again, "Sorry. Hold on a second." A repetitive bang-banging followed from the sound of his spade bashing the youma's head repeatedly, with each hit seeming only to tighten its grip on him.

Asphodel breathed a long, exasperated sigh of relief when the youma scattered to the urban winds, and, unceremoniously let his spade clatter to the ground while turning to face the "civilian" fully.

"Thanks," he started -- and then, "Oh." He blinked observantly at the pastel skin and familiar uniform. "You're a Vanguardian. Huh..." He shifted between his feet in thought, wincing somewhat when his weight was on his injured ankle. The boot had been eaten through in some places, and the exposed flesh beneath was a bit burned and discolored. "So you can make yourselves look human? Smart. Don't worry though, I won't tell anyone I saw you."

After a moment of pondering, Asphodel shrugged and said, "Sure, I'll take a gel. I should be fine though, I heal pretty fast." He sat down on the asphalt, not too concerned with their presence in broad daylight now that the neighborhood youma was taken care of. He was alert, always wary of new auras that could pop up on his intuitive radar, but calm.

"You're a good shot," he said, "and I always appreciate meeting a Vanguardian. I'm Asphodel Knight." His tone was diplomatic and genuine. There was plenty more to learn from Velencya's people, he was certain, and he was eager to get to know them more. "I hope Earth's been treating you well."

Asphodel accepted the gel with a grateful nod, and set to work tending to his injury. "To be fair, I don't think we left a good impression either," he said, honestly, and shrugged. That whole battle had been an utter disaster from start to finish. The Negaverse had plenty to celebrate from it, he was sure.

"But yes." He continued with Valnyr's question. "They all do that. The dust isn't really a big deal. Worry more about the fact it isn't actually dead." There was a sigh of irritation, and a shake of his head at that. "It's going to reform in the Rift and come back out here eventually. Pain in the a**."

As he applied the gel, he winced and sucked a breath in through gritted teeth.

The Velencians were a politically complex bunch, that was for sure. Asphodel hardly knew the half of it, but this was the second time one of them had critiques of their own leader to spare. He listened appreciatively to the Vanguardian's response to his thoughts on the battle, and by the end of it had taken on a more relaxed stance. The shadow of a smile could be seen behind his draperies.

"You don't like unnecessary sacrifice," he observed. "I respect that. The Negaverse makes too many. Each youma you see is proof of that."

Handing the gel back, he stood back up.

"They're all people who got pumped so full of Chaos, it stripped their humanity away. That's a fate worse than death. The majority weren't voluntary, naturally. Sometimes it just happens by accident," he said this bitterly, "but the Negaverse finds that risk acceptable even if it's condemned on paper. That's the guardians of Earth for you, treating their own people like cattle. Thinking they have the right to decide who lives and dies."

He said this extremely bitterly.

"There's probably a way, but if it is, it's not in abundant enough supply." Otherwise there wouldn't be so much of a need to run around dusting the damn things. "That's a problem, honestly."