–Beginning Expressive Narration of Recording 31–
Amongst charcoal columns, Lapadj paces back and forth across one section of the abandoned parking garage. Although considered abandoned by others and Mark, there are a few cars that are known to my great and true databases as old. Perhaps ‘vintage,’ to use a Human term for slightly antiquated. The true age is, of course, highly negligible and small. But Humans are just the same so they are considered what they are.
Lapadj is muttering to himself. Black hair strewn about his head and face. Sarela is still making herself unseen to mundane sensing and is straying close to him, watching over him. Grapefruit is floating in the air. She is glowing a dull purple.
“He is a coward,” Lapadj says. “Probably not going to show up.”
“He could pretend to have a Human work ethic and simply be working later than you,” Sarela reasons quite reasonably.
“Bashl, he is a coward.”
The universe being the spiteful creature that it is, made it so that precisely following Lapadj’s words did Mark stroll into viewing. The cloaked Empirian walks in with a poised gait. He is obviously not worried about whatever shall transpire.
“Shalaeyah,” Mark calls out and settles into place, standing down the incline and opposed to Lapadj.
“Shalaeyah,” Lapadj responds.
“Your Szarehan friend does not need to remain invisible. I really doubt we will be joined by a Human in the time we will be here,” Mark says.
“You are very confident to say that,” Sarela says to him. Then she breaks her invisibility and unleashes her orange form for all to plainly see. Grapefruit floats over to be next to her.
Mark cocks his head at Grapefruit. “I would say something similar for that Mechanicha thing–or is it just a robot?”
The Goddess of Programming scoffs. “How dare you insult me like that!” She pauses. “However, robots of a strictly programmed nature are of my domain, I think, so maybe it is not as much of an insult as an Empirian would think. Whatever. Still, you still have intended to insult a Goddess.”
“Sure, I did.” Mark chuckles. “And I am Nefertari Magayak, reincarnated after being slain by a Diamondae.”
Grapefruit makes a growl-muttering noise.
Sarela waves her off. “Let Lapadj get angry at him for us,” she says.
And that is what he had been doing, consciously and unconsciously. The Kharatzara ground his shoes into the structure beneath and around him.
“Vehk,” Lapadj spits out. “We are here so you can prove your status as an Empirian.”
“How would you like me to do that? Fight you in a duel? See who breaks cloak first and loses face?”
“Lapaaadddj,” Sarela drags out his name. Her voice is cautious. “This is-“
“Aye!” Lapadj shouts. “I would like to do that.”
Mark huffs. “Very well. You really are a fool. Are you a Paeyk? It would explain why you are so stupid.”
The combination of insults thrown at Lapadj gave him the burning rage to run at Mark. He tackles the other Empirian, throwing his entire cloaked weight at him. They both tumble to the ground. Mark is slammed on his back and begins to chuckle.
“This is really happening,” he says as he shoves Lapadj off of him in a coordinated movement. He rises swiftly and paces away from him a few steps.
“It is happening,” Lapadj hisses as he too gets off of the ground.
Right when he does so, Mark slides forward and lands a few punches at his chest area. Lapadj grunts and stumbles back.
“So are you really a Paeyk? You never answered my question,” Mark snarks.
“You never answered his,” Sarela quips from the side. It is ignored.
“I will devour your soul,” Lapadj growls in response to Mark and stomps forward.
“Kharatzara? You are a Kharatzara?” Mark laughs and strides perpendicularly away from him. “I did not expect that.”
“I will add you, whatever race you are, to my collection of tens of souls-“
“Tens of souls?” A cacophony of laughter rolls out from Mark’s false lips. “You are even more pathetic than I thought.”
“It is ten more than you have,” Lapadj spits. His cloak ripples. A being of more perceptive sensing such as myself can feel the form and energy of a Kharatzara radiate out from him, through the protection of the cloak.
Sarela floats next to him. “Lapadj, your cloak. Do not let him provoke you into breaking it. Then he wins.”
“I know,” he growls. “But I want to rip him apart.”
“I know that,” she says, “just make sure you do it with your cloak still intact.”
“I know that.” He shakes his head. He blinks a few times.
“Do you also know that I can hear every one of your words?” Mark calls out as he wanders forward.
“Yes,” the Kharatzara answers and then again runs over to strike the Empirian. Mark does the same and they collide.
I have decided to cut this recording into multiple parts in order to preserve the typical size of these recordings. It is an apt spot to slice the scene, so this is where the first part of recording 31 ends. The next section continues where this one left off.
–Ending Expressive Narration of Recording 31 - 1–
Ah yeah, fist fight in a parking garage by two Empirians pretending to be Human. This is where it is AT.