A Morning Ritual (Takashi Agera)
|A Morning Ritual (Takashi Agera)|
|Date of Cutscene:||10 January 2016|
|Synopsis:||Takashi goes about a now-common morning ritual.|
|Cast of Characters:||Takashi Agera|
Shortly after waking up this morning, Takashi Agera began a now-common morning ritual. From the dorms to the laboratories, and then walking from his lab into the Inner Lab - the part of his workspace where normal people simply couldn't survive. To the back of that lab, corrupted through and through with negative energy so thick it forms motes in the air. To a storage space which, much like many parts of Eclipse holdings, is far bigger on the inside than it should be on the outside.
In this space, there is a secret. There are rows upon rows of canisters, modeled after the energy battery of Rising Crash. When he was injured before, this wasn't any help, as there was no one who could make it here - and no one he wanted to know about this room.
Takashi grabs a canister out of a rack - it's empty, but just like the others in the room - and walks out of the room, stopping to write a date and '1' on the label, then to a strange machine, half technology, half odd black crystal. He shoves the canister into a slot, where it makes a loud metallic noise. He opens the machine, steps inside.
Takashi's teeth are gritted hard as the machine glows with a purple hue, and it goes about his business. A couple small verbal complaints escape between his teeth, but this is all old hat to him now. A few moments later and he stagger-steps out of the machine, resting his left hand against it for support. Roaming back to the side, with his right hand he pulls the canister out and looks at it.
Energy rests suspended in it, like a glob of black ink in zero gravity - beating with its barely contained sinister might. His energy. The energy that makes him what he is in so many ways, the power he was born with. Siphoned out carefully, just a measured portion of it, as part of a long-running experiment into his own behavior.
Takashi walks back into the room from before, and slowly regains his posture from grabbing onto the racks to walking on his own as he continues down to the back of the room. In each of the many slots, another identical canister sits. Dated and marked like this one. Each contains that siphoned energy, contained and waiting.
He looks at it before walking out, considering. He might need to do another one today with that meeting this evening - given the people he expects to show up.