[Zeno Ralin/Azreal Dren]
- A Final Meeting -
Those familiar icy blues lazily flicked open once, then twice with third time the lids staying wide and alert. A midnight-hued void were the surroundings of Zeno Ralin, not a scape he was at all frightened of nor unknown to the abomination; that's what he was, after all, a monstrous creature without compare. If anything, Zeno was simply confused, unsure of how he came to be in this place, what day or even what year the galactic calendar listed. Despite being the lack of depth or recognizable features, the environment surrounding him was heavy with a foul aroma, sickly in essence as if one could touch the death and decay in the air.
Of course, Zeno had no reason to be perplexed or frightful when placed in a situation where most would be rendered insane. This was but an extension of himself, his vile aura.
As though it were second nature, Zeno closed his eyes and combed a set of digits through his slicked-back hair. The supernatural darkness immediately receded in a slithering manner, sounding as if it were a viscous torrent of waste. The room restored to a more natural state, Zeno still took several struggling moments to grasp at a question he asked himself far too many times as of late: where was he, and why was he here?
On an observation deck clearly, not from one of his ships, but perhaps the local moon orbiting a planetoid. From up on high, little could be gathered about from what appeared to be a habitable rock other than the absence of space traffic that accompanied any race that managed to develop a warp drive.
It would hit him while turning away from the massive glass pane that had been the viewport of the planet. "Right, The Ontarou Cluster." The typical tone that Zeno spoke in had long since faded, replaced by a reverberation processing such bass that it was nigh unintelligible. The Ontarou Cluster was unremarkable at best, a series of class B planets orbiting a singular sun with a gracious habitable region. Space flight had been achieved, and surprisingly the five billion or so intelligent life forms were at relative peace. Through his widespread connections, Zeno had learned of this sector and wished to move in and secure it for himself before the federation could intervene and implant their own governmental sanctions.
Neither would occur, as Zeno instead methodically wiped the slate clean and engorged himself on the lifeblood of this isolated solar system; billions of souls swallowed en masse and locked inside the vessel that was his abyssal form. Regardless of if this course of action was a slight to the corporation's motives was of insignificant consequence. Zeno had stepped down as the figurehead sweeps ago, their wealth and name were all that he required in furthering his personal advances.
Staggering, but with powerful steps, the still gorgeous and expensively tailored man made his way from the enclosed room to a meeting hall of sorts, vacant save for a private collection of servant droids and a golden topped gentleman sitting at the end of a lengthy table. "You look like shit, Zeno. Did you really absorb this entire sector?" Azreal chuckled to himself as he appraised one of the scourges wreaking terror across the stars, someone he on occasion called a friend. The shapeshifter had known Zeno longer than most, a feat that had not been without its fair share of risks and continued to be. At a glance, Zeno could pass off as he had in prior millennia, but now those vicious oculars lacked any semblance of focus, the calculative machinator that he used to be now lost to the primal urges that befit his ancient contract.
"I'm bursting at the seams," Zeno stated blankly in a resonating groan which even Azreal had difficulty understanding, eventually settling his gaze upon his partner as his expensive leather soles clicked on polished stone floors. "I can't...stop myself. I lose a piece of myself with each sentience I devour into my own." Reaching the spot where the shapeshifter was casually seated, the loosely collected monstrosity slammed a clenched fist into the aged wood of the table and sent a crumbling shockwave that showering fine splinters across the room. "If all you came here to do was insult me, then I will gladly pluck those golden eyes that you value so highly right out of your skull and swallow them whole."
Removing himself from his chair, Azreal retreated several paces back, Zeno's obtenebration spilling from the hem of his slacks and masking whatever surface the black ink touched. It was an involuntary measure with his control severely lacking, but not without a great threat presented.
"No, I'm sorry," Azreal paused with an almost sentimental look about his usually placid features. Whether it was a mask perhaps only Zeno could parse, if he was even able to by this point. "I came to say goodbye, to see you a final time before you were too far gone, though..."
It was Zeno's turn to lighten the mood somewhat with a laugh bordering a strained groan, the tendrils that had been spreading out around him receding slightly. "We're beyond that, I believe."
A silence fell between the pair of past associates, reminiscing on events that led to this meeting, or mayhaps nothing of the sort. From the floor, those iconic eyes belonging to an unforgettable individual rose to meet Azreal's in what might be their last encounter. Zeno, about to talk once more, found himself cut off by Azreal. "Even so, if I were to go now, our parting would be paltry at best." That said, the shapeshifter knew Zeno was holding back with a well-mastered control to keep his body from striking defensively; their time was short. "Too many people described you as a single-minded monster who existed to eat, fuck, and kill. Not to say that those three subjects were not your forte, but you were a tactician that knew how to play the great game on a scale many couldn't conceive." Without trepidation, Zeno's partner began to approach with careful steps as tendrils licked at his figure but did not hold him back. "You knew how to place yourself at the top even if it took a series of falls to do so even at the cost of those around you. I can appreciate that, though, my kind held no ties that could not be cut if the need arose." Standing face to face with the abomination, Azreal reached into one of the inner pockets of his coat and dug out a polished signet ring with Azreal's initials engraved as well a date, which would be when he had first joined the organization. "Our chapter comes to a close, and what lies in store for you I cannot imagine will be anything desirable, but in giving this to you I hope it helps you retain even a sliver of who you were." Placing the ring into Zeno's open palm which closed around it, the older man could only give a soft sigh in response; the willpower to hold back his obtenebration for one of his classic monologues simply wasn't there. "You should go, Azreal." Those icy blues looked into his past partner's golden ones a final time as the dark appendages began to wrap around his body.
Azreal wouldn't have to be told twice, his cruiser's teleporter warping him from the facility moments before the tentacles could do him any harm. From aboard his ship, the shapeshifter was now surrounded by a crew of a dozen, a command vessel in a fleet of a handful of military outfitted battlecruisers. "We have the station in sight, sir." One officer reported to Azreal who never took his gaze away from the sprawling viewport. Without hesitation, Azreal gave the order. "All batteries open fire." The warships under his direction loosed a volley of blinding laser fire and missile bombardment.
The observation structure, in every sense of the word, was obliterated in the blink of an eye, with the rest of the moon following suit after a sustained attack which lasted over the course of several lengthy minutes. Azreal of course, did not for one-second delude himself into the notion that the entity that was Zeno Ralin had been annihilated, but the message would be heard loud and clear: his presence was no longer to be tolerated by the powers he used to lead.
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