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Laurelite had studied the crystals; she had a passion for them, even now. She considered them among the most useful tools of the Negaverse, and one day—if ever she had the time—she would have loved to explore their potential.

For now, though, she seemed to live only in her office and the Rift, and the only breaks she ever seemed to take were those granted to her upon such requests as that of Captain Schorl.

It was still work, but it was a break from the papers and maps and desperate searching. She rolled her crystal around in her hands for a moment as she stood, allowing the blood to flow in her legs again. She lifted her crystal and spoke; "Such an interesting call, I do say. 'Disco Inferno'? Really, Captain Schorl, such embellishments are…"

She paused, debating on how she wanted to categorize the mood she was in. Finally, and smiling earnestly, she concluded, "Quite pleasant, thank you. Please provide me your location and a summary of events if you can, I'll be there as soon as possible."

Champagne overflow of laughter bubbled from the captain for a moment before she reined in to a composure to talk again. It was accompanied by a shift to a crouch to grab a fistful of dark, spectrum-shot hair, "Not with you around, pet."

In the other, Schörl reactivated her communicator, "The Walnut Ridge water tower, just beneath it. I was hunting at a club of dubious repute and danced with Sparkles on someone's stage cue. He knows not to make fists with his thumbs inside, so he's had some self defense. The fuzz showed. They're a suburb away, no tails. No other auras incoming. "

"When you see him, the Elvis suit will brighten your evening, General-Queen. Holding position. "

If Schörl's aura had been threatening, it was nothing to the arrival of the new woman, who appeared out of thin air. Where the disquieting feeling of malevolence had been background noise before, with the . . . General-Queen's arrival, it suddenly fell on Dionysia with the full weight of crushing terror. The feeling she evoked was one of catastrophic calamity: the onrush of certain doom centered where she was standing. It cautioned him to run with his every animal instinct -- and he tried, for what it was worth. He strained frantically against silk knots tied fast about wrists and ankles, not knowing what it was he was trying to escape, but certain of the necessity of it all the same.

Run now, his heart seemed to be screaming. Run now or it'll be too late. Run.

He tried to -- desperately wanted to -- and couldn't. Breath hissed out through his clenched teeth like a whistling kettle, intent on relieving some trapped pressure.

He shivered against the sound of the teal-haired woman's voice, calm and saccharine, flinched at the gliding touch of her hand over his hair. Her other hand reached for his chest, and he thought he knew what was coming now -- the same as Schörl had done. "Don't," he cried out frantically, sensing his end. With no other escape, Dionysia let his magic crumple away and powered down, leaving him almost naked in costume underwear and body glitter -- the silk bonds of his page uniform dissolving away just in time to free his arms. He took advantage of his new mobility to make an immediate shove away, trying to push the General-Queen's arm away --

-- but found her strong, impossibly so -- and was rewarded for his attempt to get away only by the biting scrape of rooftop gravel against his bare skin. Eli couldn't even so much as budge her delicate-looking little hand.

He thrashed anyway for all he was worth, arms and legs, shoving fruitlessly at Laurelite and Schörl both -- then Laurelite's bone-white fingers slipped based his skin and through his ribs, and he went senselessly still.

Last time, there'd been nothing. The timeless oblivion of an unconsciousness so deep, so close to true lifelessness that afterward, he'd had no memory of any lost dark minutes. Dionysia had simply ceased to exist for those few seconds, then come back to reality again in what had felt to him like the very next heartbeat.

This was nothing like that. There was no consuming oblivion to spirit his soul away.

This time there was pain.

If his arms had worked, he would've struggled, trembled, spasmed. If his mouth had worked, he would've screamed. It was agony -- a painful rush somewhere in his soul like his rib cage was being pried open with a crowbar and buckets of hot, burning tar were being poured inside. If there was a more painful way to die, he couldn't even slightly conceive of it.

Only he didn't die.

He changed.



When he came to himself again, Dionysia felt... fuzzy. Confused. Like he'd fainted and was still coming around to consciousness, memory disjointed as though recalling a dream rather than his own reality. He was powered up, but . . . but not. Or not like before, anyway.

"What did you do to me?" he gasped, bonelessly exhausted.

"Yes," Laurelite mused; she seemed thoughtful, but dragged herself from the depths of her own mind. The corruption might have been successful, but she was tired, and needed to rest. She just didn't want anyone else to know how draining corruptions would be. "I think that sounds like an excellent plan."

She looked to the newly corrupted Agent. "You have questions, dear, but I think they ought to be directed to your new friend, in a more secure environment. She'll take good care of you, I'm sure. Oh--but one more thing."

She turned to face Schörl. "You have done a wonderful job. I am thrilled with your efforts. I should very much like to reward you. Your skill is wasted on a mere captain. You could do so much more, if only you were given the opportunity."

The General Queen reached up to brush her hair from her face, keeping as tidy as always.

"I should like to give you the opportunity. If you would let me."

There was something about her tone that implied, even while disguised as a request, she would not be accepting no for an answer.

Laurelite's answer to their new recruit was essentially an endorsement of her offer to take the poor sot in. A very pleasing endorsement and a mark of confidence that Schörl had no intention of wasting- she'd never had a personal lieutenant to command, no real companion but Barbary, and it was a mark of failing that she'd deemed in the general structure of the Negaverse that these things were lacking. This new corrupted knight would be her chance to show the proof in the predictions of what a hands on influence could do for loyalty and efficiency withing the Negaverse Military Machine.

It's a nice assurance that as much of a threat as the attention of one of the Sovereigns usually is, I'm going to have to be here, and in a sufficient mental capacity of here, to carry that service out. Whatever improvement she has in mind isn't one like Bazzite. We'll have such fun, he and I. He'll grow into a name, once he learns to surrender. Everything. We must be broken to be made stronger, like the healing bone.

Schörl shifted to a formal stance of attention. "I am at your command, General-Queen. Molded as you would see fit to Her need."

It is painful to transform one thing into another.

Schörl grinned, holding her balance and her feet before the power and hold on her starseed. The speed was inconsequential once it started- the pain engulfed ever nerve in a sticky black viscous that blotted out the sound, scent, touch or taste of anything. There was only pain and thought. "The art of the alchemist, whether spiritual or physical, consists in completing the work of perfection, bringing forth and making dominant, as it were, the “latent goldness” which “lies obscure” in metal or man."

I will be a General.
I have attained this next metal. The latent goldness, the latent yellow, metal from flesh and molded to the the unravelling of whatever foreign taints mark my starseed just a little more. Little by little.
I am a General.

The absence of pain brought sight back of a retreating hand and the glisten of fatigue on the General-Queen's brow. Schörl could feel the shiver's in her own joints threatening to collapse. That would not do, on such an occasion. I am a General. And I have a new lieutenant to teach. I have a new post to make use of. Another step closer to gold from simple iron and stone. Now is no time to fold over, but must cool and temper straight and sure. "Thank you, General-Queen. I'll take him home to rest a while. "

And before he's full cooled from his own reforging...best to start. I'll have that name before you have another. I'll have everything that you still remember, and I'll give that impurity over to the proper places. We will be complete. We will be efficient.

She measured her steps, crossing to where the new Lieutenant looked on saucer-eyed. She picked him up like a bride, bracing every muscle mentally to the task. She would show no weakness. His training started even as he'd first seen her. The very first images and impressions of authority and guidance meant that Schörl must be synonymous with adamant. "We have a long way, to uncover in you a Noble Tincture. But we'll get there, pretty one. We'll have no less."