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[R-UPG] The Inevitability of Hell (Faustite & Ransomite)

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Amasis

Everyday Blob

PostPosted: Tue May 30, 2023 1:26 am


Ransomite knew that this moment would come, sooner or later. He couldn't put it off forever. When Prehnite mentioned the concept of advancing to captain to him, and of recommending him for such, Ransomite hadn't had anything he could think of that would convince Prehnite not to do that.

At least, not that wouldn't be incredibly suspicious.

Shouldn't he want to be promoted? Shouldn't this be a happy occasion?

It should be.

'For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope--'

So now he was here, having been let in, and was looking at General-King Faustite in the not-quite-eyes. He steeled himself, noting with distant curiosity that the sense of Faustite's aura, though heavy, was not a bad one. "Good evening, sir. I understand General Prehnite recommended I come here."

Strickenized
PostPosted: Tue May 30, 2023 7:27 pm


Faustite continued paging through the file on his desk with the butt of a metal nib pen. He did not greet the Lieutenant that walked through his door, nor did he look up at the man; he waited another few minutes yet.

So Prehnite recommended that he come. That was nice of Prehnite; it was nicer, still, of Ransomite for listening to that prattling old coot. Faustite wondered how many lectures on the care of esoteric botanicals that Ransomite had to weather before he was sent out this way. One, ten, twenty? Any number greater than zero was too many, in his opinion, but the evidence was right in front of him.

Ransomite was obedient, personable, and generally didn't say no to anything. It made him useful, and useful made him worth promoting. As much as he thought Prehnite could drone on forever and put him to sleep, he had to agree that the man worked hard, was effective, and built a team of his own despite his lackluster personality. If he was recommending Ransomite for promotion, then Faustite would trust his opinion. He didn't need to grill the man standing before him to double-check Prehnite's work.

"Sit," Faustite instructed without looking up. He turned to the last page where a handwritten note waited for him.

At this, Faustite shut the file. He then looked up at Ransomite to see if he took the command to heart. "He thinks you deserve a promotion," Faustite provided matter-of-factly. "Sent me a whole file on what a good boy you've been. Seems you've been hard at work trying to bolster our ranks. Surprised he's recommending anyone, really. Such a bitter boy." He tsked.

"So, tell me — if I give you this promotion, what will you do with it?"


amasis


Strickenized


Garbage Cat


Amasis

Everyday Blob

PostPosted: Wed May 31, 2023 5:55 am


Ransomite had done as instructed of him, taking a seat in a chair on the other side of Faustite's desk. In the face of people who were unambiguously his superiors, of course he was obedient. It was how he worked in his day job, and it was accordingly how he'd expected things to go in the Negaverse ever since he had first been awakened by...

Oh, it had been a long time-- Zircon, that's right.

The quiet snort came anyway at 'good boy'. He buried the retort, however, knowing it would be inappropriate for the situation. Had it been Zebulon, he would have probably 'woof'ed sarcastically. The thought of Zebulon, Tobias, and Diryas made his chest hurt. How long had it been, now?

Ransomite pushed those thoughts away with a purely internal vigor.

"I'm glad he thinks so." Was he? The answer to Faustite's question came immediately, easily. It was what was expected of him. He was good at that, at least. "Use it to influence more civilians. Bolster and support my fellows." He hadn't had the power to awaken anyone as an agent himself, but he'd done what Prehnite had asked in funneling him information on promising new potential recruits. He'd avoided recommending Zebulon, so far.

"What would be expected from me?"

Strickenized
PostPosted: Wed May 31, 2023 6:54 pm


"Expect you to make something of those Godites you shepherd around," Faustite explained. Negaverse can always use more people. Trustworthy people. Those who are prone to brainwashing will work just fine." And if they believed in Metallia as much as they believed in whatever denomination in which Ransomite partook? Then they would have soldiers enough that would take to the frontlines well. If he recalled correctly, some of those religions rewarded the ones that drew others in; surely it wouldn't take much to motivate Ransomite to do the same.

"Captain's responsibilities were outlined in the Handbook." Faustite stood, both hands on the desk. "Larger quota, but you get to start a team, to pick up a youma. Mindless grunt work won't cut it anymore; Captains are expected to make a name for themselves if they expect to get promoted. Had Supers that went Eternal for combat missions, captures, conversions — even supporting allies in their missions." It was all he had to say for it; he had been a Captain for ages, and he relished little of it. It was like being trapped in awkward middle management where his recruit hated him and his superior bore down on him with more expectations than he could handle.

But, as far as he knew, Prehnite wasn't much like Schörl. And Ransomite did not yet have underlings.

Faustite rounded the desk at an easy pace. "Stay seated. Expect it hurts more coming from me than anyone else." As far as he was aware, none of the others were actively on fire. But he was certain that Jet squeezed when he didn't particularly like someone.


amasis


Strickenized


Garbage Cat


Amasis

Everyday Blob

PostPosted: Sat Jun 03, 2023 5:10 pm


Stay seated? He could do that. Even so, he sat straight in his chair, hands folded mildly in his lap. It was a good, neutral posture. Polite, but not rigid. He had been on missions the General-King led, but had interacted with him directly precious little.

'Expect you to make something of those Godites you shepherd around.'

He should have known it was coming, but it was through extensive practice with a neutral affect, with not reacting, that Ransomite kept his surprise off of his face. Prone to brainwashing? Something in him rankled at the description of his vocation being 'brainwashing', but instead he nodded as Faustite began summarizing the responsibilities Ransomite would be expected to fulfill upon promotion. They made sense. The Handbook mentioned was something Ransomite had perused a few times--it was easier to keep his head down if he knew how exactly to do so. Easier to keep his discomfort with the idea of exploiting his vocation from reflecting on his face.

He had practice.

He knew there was a reason he'd never been moved from the church he ministered at, and he knew why there were always multiple senior priests there with him. While the priest--always the same one, easier to manage that way--he went to confession with could not do anything with what he told him, the fact remained that he wasn't celibate, and that he was non-celibate with men at that. His senior couldn't do anything per doctrine, but he could always conveniently watch him to make sure he wasn't letting his sinfulness affect his job. And so he had gotten very good at making sure the different parts of his life did not overlap.

This would start to erode that--

These thoughts all came very quickly, but he still needed to make sure that he was paying attention as Faustite rounded the desk. The fact that it was going to hurt didn't surprise him as much as he would have thought it should. Then again, Faustite was on fire.

"Yes, sir."

Strickenized
PostPosted: Tue Jun 13, 2023 10:01 am


An insidious, lingering thought was ever present when he had to reach beyond the barrier of someone's corporeal body — a faint whisper of a thing that told him, who would notice if this one disappeared? Before it was Lieutenants-to-be, and now it was Lieutenants. How much did the rank and file really contribute to the cause? How much did they stand out? Were the ones who were to be promoted truly a cut above the rest? And even if they were, even if they proved marvelously efficient at their tasks, even if they proved the most obedient and dutiful, would their absence be noticed? Couldn't Faustite have just one snack to soften a day of desk work?

It was easy enough to answer the thought with next time. One day, they would find who was better off eaten or given up to Metallia. But for now? Better to wait; this one was Prehnite's, after all.

Faustite stood over the boy, whose posture reminded him of a mannequin. Hands in lap, straight back, looking straight ahead. Faustite bent down just enough to reach beyond his chest, up to the wrist, and found the prism of his soul.

"Apologies if I turn you into a youma. Wasn't on purpose." It was all the preface he gave before he sought out his connection to the unending power of Metallia and provided his own body as a conduit. Black bolts of seething energy shot down his arm and into the starseed in his hand, suffusing it with power, with the promise of Captaincy.


amasis


Strickenized


Garbage Cat


Amasis

Everyday Blob

PostPosted: Sat Jun 17, 2023 5:10 am


Ransomite's own thoughts had been carefully neutral. He was pretty sure that touching his starseed wouldn't give Faustite the ability to read his mind, but... couldn't be too careful. But that didn't stop the thrill of unease up and down his spine as Faustite came closer. His breath held on reflex as Faustite reached toward his chest.

Oh.

Oh that was not... Oh, that hurt--

The discomfort wasn't entirely able to be kept off of Ransomite's face, and he tried not to think too hard about 'if I turn you into a youma'. It would solve a lot of his problems fairly neatly if he was turned into a youma, he guessed. A moment passed, and he was able to bring the veneer of neutrality over his features again. That wasn't too bad...

Just in time for the power to lance into his body, into his starseed, to burn into it. The black colour of the bolts betrayed the white-hot searing that caused Ransomite's breath to hiss sharply through his teeth. His fingers formed a white-knuckled grip on the fabric of his pants, his pupils constricting with the pain.

But with the pain came power. And with the power came a thrill of another sort, a thrill of wonder, even as he could swear he heard distant laughter. Something in him welcomed hearing that laughter, both terrible and exciting all at once.

Captain Ransomite blinked once, twice, as he brought himself back under control.

Strickenized
PostPosted: Sat Jun 17, 2023 7:20 am


While Faustite hadn't been present for a lot of promotions, he couldn't recall any where the person being promoted had laughed. For a moment, he thought he ******** up and turned this one into a youma. That would have been a disappointing turn of events, but at least it was an officer he seldom met or heard of and not Fafnir.

Faustite removed his hand when all was done. Indeed, this one looked and felt like a Captain. Felt like shoving chaos into a ******** mannequin, though. No response, no give, no life.

Who put these people into the Negaverse? Sure, they followed orders, but they didn't have any imagination. Maybe this one was meant to be a Captain forever, then. Best fit for lower management, for micromanaging quotas and slacking Lieutenants. Whatever priests did to their flocks to whip them into a passionate frenzy, maybe he'd do that to however many Lieutenants and Basics got stuck under him.

Well, this one wasn't going to have so much as a damned pulse in his office. so Faustite withdrew his hand as soon as he witnessed the change. He shook his hand out — blasting chaos through his hand left it a little numb — as he returned to his seat.

"Congratulations, Captain." He didn't become a youma. Unfortunate, since most youma were a little more animated than Ransomite unless they were doing that weird not-quite-sleep thing where they faded away. "Prehnite will inform you of any new duties assigned to you. You're dismissed." If he needed to catch his breath afterward, Prehnite's boy could sit outside.


amasis
edited


Strickenized


Garbage Cat


Amasis

Everyday Blob

PostPosted: Thu Jun 22, 2023 2:44 am


Ransomite relaxed as Faustite removed his hand from Ransomite's chest and he felt a little less like the wrong move would send him into cardiac arrest or turn him into a youma. What happened if he sneezed and caused Faustite to jerk his starseed the wrong direction? The presence of a General-King still made Ransomite formal on impulse, even if Faustite was now three steps above him instead of four.

It was still a pretty scary three steps.

'Congratulations, Captain'.

Ah, right. "Thank you, sir," left his lips automatically in the same intonation--level, respectful, painfully polite--he might use to speak to the Cardinal. He had never met the Cardinal directly, however, and a part of him earnestly hoped to keep it that way. His ordination had been done by the Archbishop serving as his diocese's bishop at the time; Destiny City's size warranted it, but it also warranted the Cardinal using it as the seat for a lot of his work.

Eventually, that Cardinal had taken over as the area's serving archbishop and bishop. Father Isaac generally kept his head down after that. It was easier to keep his stubbornness from getting him into trouble. It was easier to keep things under wraps.

He took the dismissal for what it was, getting to his feet with a dip of his head and making sure to close the door carefully behind him. Captain Ransomite let out a sigh of relief, then, tinged with unease. He could still swear he heard echoes of the laughter from earlier, but all of it had surely been his imagination. He was under a lot of stress.

Retreating to his room at the rectory would help clear his head.

'Hail Mary, full of grace--'

Strickenized
fin, I assume! Thanks for helping me out!
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