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It was, technically, his first shift as a Captain. In the aftermath of the ball, there'd been a lack of... well, he wasn't sure how to say it, but somehow he'd been nominated to be pulled out of his own New Year's gala and drawn up through the ranks. It was a terrible decision by the higher-ups, to be honest. Just because he had a weapon now and his uniform had got slightly more ridiculous didn't mean that he actually believed a word he was being told. In fact, he was sure the only reason he wasn't a youma was that Astrophyllite had taken to filling his energy requirements.

He felt bad about that, but not bad enough to make her stop.

Still, he'd met his infiltration division requirements--the busy social life of an artist-in-residence didn't stop for illegal acts of war--and now he was obligated to be here. Watching a door. Melanite had sort of figured that once he was a Captain, things would be slightly more engaging. He had been entirely wrong. His job seemed to be watching Lieutenants and Generals go into the room and come out, and making sure no senshi slipped out. Not that he was sure he would've attempted to stop the Eternal inside, if she were to attempt to escape. He wasn't sure, but... Lately, any thoughts like that had become harder to think. Sometimes he found himself thinking, for the Queen, or taking his duties seriously.

Melanite still shirked his duties, but the purposes behind that decision struck him as vague and unimportant now. Like he didn't really believe them, and thought it only out of habit. Maybe he was afraid of seeing how far he could rise, or maybe he was a sympathizer. Maybe he should report himself to SpecOps as a danger to the Negaverse--

He nodded to the lieutenant passing him, and then paused--wasn't that--He didn't keep track of much in the Negaverse beyond what he wasn't going to do next, but the corrupted knights were something of an interest to him since he'd learned of once-General Avalon's survival and rebirth as a page. Quartz's name and faction as a knight were a mystery to Melanite, but he knew enough to be curious. The lieutenant evidently remembered nothing of his civilian self, and Melanite found himself curious--how deep, how far, did that go? For purely academic reasons, of course. He wouldn't dream of betraying Metallia. No, not even once.

"Lieutenant Quartz, is it," he said. "Dobriy vyecher. Do you have a moment?"

Melanite could respect someone who gave no shits. He wished he could maybe give no shits, but the shits were worming their way into his head the longer he stayed like this, he thought. "You are the corrupted knight," he said, as if there weren't any others. As far as he knew, that was correct. He knew of plenty of corrupted senshi, but it seemed like the distinction of once-knight could only be held by one person at a time. Avalon, and once she was gone, Quartz had taken her place. Was there a quota? Were knights simply harder to corrupt than senshi? He didn't know. He didn't want to know.

There were other officers here, some of whom watched Melanite--perhaps Quartz--too closely. "Walk with me," Melanite suggested. He'd been explicitly instructed not to, but who cared. Probably this Lieutenant didn't have a moment. Schorl was only a name to him, but that name had a few unsavory rumors attached to it. "I doubt Eternal Sailor Whoever is going anywhere." If she did, he didn't really care.

"You have first-hand experience regarding... coming around to the light," he said, picking his words carefully. "What do you think of what we do here?" The words sounded like they came from the mouth of an infiltrator, someone sounding out the new hire to test company loyalty. Affirming his own point of view would only make the attempt seem more questionable, rather than less. So he didn't.

The corners of Melanite's mouth tugged upwards for a moment before he schooled his expression back into frankly my dear I don't give a damn. "It is all morally abhorrent," he said. They had told him of the cost of energy draining in Saint Petersburg, and he had not forgotten it, nor would he.

Somewhere nearby, there was a sobbing scream, and Melanite stopped walking, but that was the only sign he'd heard anything at all. "If they fed as much coal into a steam engine as they feed energy to Metallia, it would explode under the pressure," he said, "or lower the water temperature and thus halt the engine, I am not a scientist, I am not sure. I meant the children, here." By his estimation, not one of them was over twenty-five. Well, perhaps the Knight of Mars. He didn't actually care to know.

Quartz's uniform didn't look much like any other uniforms he'd seen--the Negaverse tended towards pseudomilitary outfits, the better to shore up their opinion that they were anything other than a mafiya--and it was easy to imagine that he'd simply come from a different place than Melanite had, or than any of their comrades-in-arms had. Melanite's olive drab and black paled next to the accessories on the lieutenant. Truly, Chaos had a sense of humor. "Have you noticed that you have... changed... since your corruption?" It would be better if he could have asked another Captain, but he knew of none of them who could be trusted. At least if the lieutenant reported him (and if Melanite didn't report himself first, like the gnawing little voice in his head told him to) he could disavow it. Throwing people under a bus was something of his specialty.

Melanite nodded. That--what was that quaint English expression? Hit the head with the screw? No. Some other construction term. He didn't really care too much. Nails. Screws. He was more likely to use a staple gun when constructing canvas; it was just more convenient. "Yes," said Melanite. "I agree." The smile on his face, however dark or fleeting, was real--at least he wasn't entirely alone in seeing the lack of morality or decency here--and when it faded, the muscles of his face were left feeling odd, stretched. He rubbed his jaw.

"In St. Petersburg, we lack the immediacy of Metallia's presence," he said. "There, we do not play these games, although I am sure my superiors there enjoy archaic kinds of fun as much as any of these." Perhaps it really was a proximity thing. The Negaverse he came from, Revaillite and Laemmline and Muscovine, they were cruel, but not unreasonably. They killed senshi because senshi took too much effort to corrupt. They were led by adults, pillars of the community, and it was policy to leave high schoolers like Astrophyllite alone. If they had potential, they would be watched, but.

That train of thought was headless. He abandoned it with a momentary slump of the shoulders. "I wasn't aware anyone had tried to recondition you," said Melanite. "From what I had read, such is not standard. General Avalon--she was another corrupted knight--took to this like... what is the saying. Fish." Fish out of water? Fish to water? That made more sense. "I mean, before. Immediately after your corruption."

He paused. Just a heartbeat, really. And he continued, "When they corrupted me, they killed my sister at the same time. The captain who had... I suppose you would say scouted... me crushed her head beneath a boot. Like she was nothing." He couldn't remember the color of Jana's sweater before the blood began to soak into it anymore. He could only remember the fuku, and think, she deserved it. He thought, she meant harm to the Negaverse, and in his heart that was enough, but in his head he was troubled. "I didn't care. I want to know if that is standard, but no one will answer me." Not that he had particularly tried.

"Then we have that in common," said Melanite. He found it difficult to imagine the sort of person who would choose this. Perhaps the storied Schorl would have taken this step without being forced, but he had never met another Negaverse agent who had wanted to become what they were. Even with the beautiful Alkaid, she had resisted her initial corruption. She had admitted as much to him, before disappearing deep into the Rift. And she, to his manner of thinking, was the apex of what Chaos could achieve--the only good thing he had yet seen come out of this--the only thing of real beauty in the whole damn enterprise. "Thank you for your honesty."

At least he had something of his answer. "You needn't lie. She was a senshi," said Melanite. The words tasted of ash in his mouth. "She deserved it. Jana and that <******** cat." He didn't need to be trained to hate guardian cats. That came part and parcel with the curl of Jana's hands as they cooled.

He wanted to sigh, or run a hand through his hair. He didn't. "Ah. I never did introduce myself," he said. "I am Melanite. My superior--" he rolled his eyes "--is Eternal Sailor Persephone. If she could be called such a thing." She spent most of her time crying, anymore.

"She was a senshi," said Melanite. "She tried to stop them. Stupid." It would have been honorable, in anyone else's defense. He would have lauded her bravery, had it accomplished anything, protected anyone. Before he had left St Petersburg, he'd thought it unavoidable. Senshi were not converted. Senshi died. You converted the cats to find more senshi, and killed them unawakened. Now there were corrupted senshi everywhere, cracks in their foreheads and their chests but alive. Jana could have lived.

He frowned--a sharp pain behind the eyes, and he was aware of how stupid he must look, a hand over his face like that would help. They'd explained this to him, while Muscovine knelt panting on the floor. "They corrupted Milena. Lieutenant Muscovine," he corrected, irritated at his own slip. Even if Milena were still Milena (and he wasn't) it wouldn't be the right name anymore. "You have no idea--this branch is so very different--if they let one senshi go, even corrupted, there would be more. There would be... sympathies. So, you destroy them. Take their starseed. Then you don't have to drain civilians."

That made no sense. It was almost verbatim what Revaillite had said: We killed your sister, yeah? But Tevene Page, he has a different path. You let one senshi live, there'll be more. They'll band together, and people will start to care-- "They wake up children," he said, distractedly. "It's a kindness, to free them. Babylon says they'll be reborn in a thousand years. Safe and sound." Would he want someone to hurt Astrophyllite? To free her?... No, but then, she was different, wasn't she?

"It's immoral," he said, and he wasn't sure if he meant the murder of the senshi or the awakening of them.

"True enough," said Melanite. He shrugged, one shouldered. "It is an important question, if not necessarily an intelligent one." He'd told Astrophyllite to limit her targets to people who deserved it, but that distinction seemed less important now. He wanted to take it back and tell her to do whatever was easier on her, but...

He shook his head. "Perhaps I will see you," he said. "Go on about your business." With that dismissal, he took off to attend to his own business.