Galena felt weird, scouting around the open area where she usually met Antiope on their designated day of the week. Tonight wasn’t that night, but still, she arrived and fanned out the area. As she became more engrossed in her position and power, she became more acutely aware of how it could all be taken away, and with that paranoia came a compulsion to know their surroundings better.

Any regulars who considered these their grounds could be a threat, and it seemed prudent to just watch the activity in the area for the night, keeping a mental tally of the energy signatures she felt all while keeping her distance and trying to stay non-descript.

She didn’t expect to catch a familiar face, but once she did, she didn’t hesitate to approach and abandon her brief and self imposed mission of scouting the area.

“I see you eventually did earn those outside privileges, Lieutenant,” She said with a dry tone of caution, and then reeled herself back in almost instantly. “I apologize, that was a rude greeting. Good evening, Quartz, I hope your patrol has gone well tonight.”

She finished with a stiff and unconvincing bow of the head and a near plastic quality to her expression as she struggled to find a mask to cope with the strange brand of anger she carried for Stroud’s pet. In a way, she had identified with him as someone else who had been pulled into the ranks against their will, while simultaneously pitying his much worse situation and taking advantage of it, when she briefly saw the opportunity to use his transgression as an excuse to release some small amount of anger at him. There were feelings of embarrassment, and still lingering anger, and a lot of confusion about how exactly to handle his presence.

Shazari
Energy draining had, initially, but a source of revulsion for Quartz -- one of the many ugly forms of vampirism that Chaos demanded. Not content to merely strip what she needed from the officers that served at her pleasure, Metallia demanded her tithe from ordinary people as well. Energy, always more energy. Like all parts of his job, Quartz supposed he still hated it. It didn't feel like he liked it, after all, and that would've been cause for alarm indeed; it was just that the same feeling of self-disgust about doing it no longer turned his stomach to sickness.

It was part of the job. Part of his requirements. A condition of what was a very, very conditional sort of freedom.

He wasn't fond of ripping the life out of unsuspecting people in order to buy himself precious time away from direct captivity. He certainly wasn't proud of it. But in the grand scheme of what his life looked like, and what he thought other people's lives looked like -- in the grand scheme of passing on his suffering to other people to relieve his own burdens -- it felt like there were worse sins.

He was a murderer now. He'd killed somebody. There were worse sins, and he'd done them.

Energy draining felt surreal compared to that. Like nothing -- like peeling off a layer of sunburnt skin, nothing more.

Three sizable energy spheres sat nestled between protectively curled fingers, too big to readily be pocketed. He'd moved directly through the captain's general auric space; Quartz liked sticking close to larger Negaverse energy signatures at times like this, it discouraged his own brethren approaching him for a potential fight. It was no surprise to find himself stopped and questioned.

Slightly more surprising was by whom.

"Captain Galena," he said neutrally, eyeing her with care. Then, with a shade more sarcasm: "Congratulations on your promotion."

On her comment, he looked down at the three energy spheres he held in hand, each one about the size of a billiard ball. "Well enough to cover my week," he observed. He didn't bother to add that he'd been purposely walking in her figurative shadow -- while there was nothing particularly forbidden about hiding in the periphery of a larger aura, it was reasonable to imagine that some Negaverse officers might not appreciate it. "I'm just heading home," he said, wondering if that would be the end of it.


If Galena weren’t prone to stiff and still stature, she might have seemed to visibly pause when she detected his sarcasm. She glanced down at her more practical uniform and gave a curt half of a nod. “Indeed, if that is a construct for which we offer congratulations, a necessary progression in order to survive and end our tenure as such easy prey to the superiors which hold our leashes. I thank you, if only because that is also what we must do when offered such congratulations,” She deadpanned, adjusting the way she held her arms to a more proper rest against her abdomen.

She gave the energy spheres in his hand a glance when they were mentioned, but otherwise she seemed to ignore them entirely.

“I would like to apologize for our previous encounter. I was upset, and found you to be the least lethal target upon which to alleviate my frustrations. In truth, I should have found more sympathy for a fellow lieutenant, who occupied the same role at the bottom of the all consuming food chain. I had always resented the general who corrupted me, who leveraged my life against service for her own amusement and then immediately lost interest, throwing me to the wolves. I would not have lasted had Cinnabar not taken an interest in my looks and subsequently my training and survival, and while it was far from an ideal situation I have come to appreciate now that it could have been a far worse experience. In relative theory I have been quite lucky, I realize.”

Her hand extended, stiffly, but ostensibly trying to be a friendly gesture of peace. “I am sorry for making what must be a trying situation any degree worse, however small, by acting like a petulant child towards a fellow lieutenant in a room full of wolves. If you do not find the sentiment to be too treasonous.”

Had Galena been the sort with emotional range and a sense of humor that might have been said in a much different tone, followed by a wink or some indication of insincerity. Instead, it was as flat as the rest of her speech.

Shazari
Had Cinnabar not taken an interest in my looks. The phrase shook Quartz a little from his placid listening. No wonder she was so stiff, so reserved. No wonder her face looked frozen and taut all the time.

Quartz remembered Captain Cinnabar, sprawled out injured on a tarp in Stroud's apartment, grazing her knuckles over his thigh. He thought of Stroud, and didn't really have to think any harder from there. He wondered if his face ever looked like Captain Galena's did.

Her apology came as what he could only qualify as a complete ******** surprise: it was not his experience that Negaverse officers apologized for anything, ever, and least of all for being assholes. They woke up in the morning, drank a*****e coffee, ate a*****e toast. Their days were spent in the throes of assholery, and their evenings much the same. when bored, they did a murder. When agitated, they did four. They relished in all opportunities to be assholes to people above them, to people below them, and most especially of all, to people of their same level. To be an a*****e was to be in the Negaverse -- it was their official language, their official currency. They absolutely did not apologize, and certainly not for anything a sane and reasonable person might.

Was Galena being sincere? Or had Schörl simply sent Quartz the exact trap he was calculated to react most positively to?

His general did know him punishingly well, after all. This interaction would've been easy for her to arrange.

Quartz put his hand out to shake Galena's anyway.

"The only sentiment I find too treasonous," he said blithely, "is any one I'm expected to publicly admit to agreeing with." A smile made a brief cameo on his face, though there was nothing of pleasure in it -- only sour amusement. "At any rate, I doubt General Schörl would take any offense at all at 'pack of wolves.'"

He returned his hand to the energy spheres, steadying them in place. "I'm sorry about the girl, by the way," he said belatedly. "It really was an accident. Can I ask who conscripted you?"


“You can, but I may not have a suitable answer,” Galena answered with a weird, wry twist to her mouth. “I mostly remember the um… the youma. A knight saved me once, but then I was alone. And there was a general with a brown uniform, a spear… It was a game to her, I knew that much, and I decided it was likely best to play along. It was not nearly as… involved as an engagement as you have with Schorl, who I don’t doubt would take the likening to a vicious pack animal as flattery.”

She gave her hollow, quietly unhappy laugh as if it was necessary punctuation to keep the words from being too insulting.

“I was certain I would be disposed of until Cinnabar decided to train me. It’s not… It wasn’t so bad. She was affectionate, but never outright cruel, although I’ve never tested the limit of her patience, I am aware I’m only a toy to them. There were worse options, and she afforded protection. Except for that time in the bar when she left me alone with that man… and that time on the rooftop when she left to fight a senshi and I was nearly burned to death. And that time she took me down to the Rift and passed out leaving me stuck in a pit of monsters with no means to teleport out.”

She pursed her lips with a small ‘hmph’ as she glanced to the side.

“It gets easier, the less you fight, I can promise you that. Once you’re promoted, it cuts down on those who are allowed to treat you as a plaything. Although they ask more of you… I’ve…”

Her already quiet voice became quieter.

“I’ve heard, from the others, that if we defect we become knights,” And then she squared her shoulders and glanced around. “Not that such things would be considered. The most recent traitors at the time had been captured at the ball, I believe. Captaincy is the better option for survival, obviously.”

She picked at the lace detailing on her gloves absentmindedly. “No one has made me take a starseed yet, so at least for that I’m grateful. I’ve only been legal to drink for a bit over a year and I fear my liver doesn’t have the tolerance for what would be necessary to cope with such things.”

Shazari
There were parts of Galena's story that, had he been picking it apart with a fine-toothed comb, Quartz might've raised more of an eyebrow at. While the mention of a scary encounter at a bar was alarming (Quartz didn't really take Galena for the type who'd hold her own well at one), and the rooftop fight with a senshi sounded pretty unpleasant, had Quartz been in a frame of mind more positively disposed toward Captain Cinnabar, he might have been a bit less broadly sympathetic about the matter of whether or not Cinnabar had probably passed out on purpose and whether that could really be counted as a black mark against her.

He wasn't feeling terribly positively disposed toward Captain Cinnabar, though. He didn't think he'd ever exactly felt any warm-and-fuzzies where she was concerned.

And Galena's situation was one he was sympathetic to. Had the General who'd turned her really not even given her name -- just left a confused lieutenant to fend for herself?

You're lucky, a well-worn part of his brain reminded itself again. Schörl looks after you. Teaches you. It hurts, but you're weak. You wouldn't survive on your own. Be grateful you have a place in the world because of her.

"Captain Cinnabar has her shortcomings," he agreed. "But she's not a bad choice, if you're after a protector. Always good to get a thug to do a thug's job."

He withdrew a little, mentally, at her quiet mention of defection -- of becoming a knight -- which crossed the line from normal water cooler bitching into the sort of sedition that could cost him so many of the privileges that he'd fought for. Stolen for. Murdered for.

"I was a knight before my conscription," he said stiffly. "It's not just a rumor. But even if it were possible to escape without being captured and dragged back -- the amnesia's worse. I can remember about . . . half an hour's worth of time, if I add it up. Fighting monsters. Being captured. That's all I have left. Everything else is just -- I can't get to it. It's gone. Captaincy's the only option." He shrugged, but the gesture had lost some of its smoothness, his posture less natural than before. "And anyway, Schörl would always come for me. There isn't any escaping."

If he was a little bitterly jealous of her for her admission that she'd never had to take a starseed -- and God, God, he was -- it was tempered by her reference to her age. How young had she been, faced with the choice of whoring herself out to Cinnabar to avoid being eaten alive by the shitheads in this organization? It didn't bear thinking about. It just made him want a drink.

"Have they assigned any lieutenants to you? I imagine the new rank comes with more work."


"No, no she's not a bad choice at all, I'm very fond of her," Galena admitted with her signature wry twist of a smile that never reached her eyes or appeared genuine in any way. At least until he mentioned he had originally been a knight, then something seemed to sparkle in interest, just for a flash.

"It--"

She shut down before she got very far, always mindful that too much interest was dangerous to show. Quartz might have a similar outlook on the unfortunate situation of finding themselves conscripted, but he was no proven ally.

"They never mention the amnesia," She finally said after a long pause to carefully measure and choose her words. "I've seen it, though, with senshi they take. But I always thought that was different, because of what they are. With the... The holes that crack on them."

She thought of Freia's first, the metal ring on her fuku that framed the cracked, black void in her chest. Her corruption had been so fresh it was easy to picture it as if Laurelite had broken her when she touched her starseed. She had seen others up close, though. Amphitrite, and memories of a future where Antiope sported them as well. Amphitrite was relevant to something else he had asked as well.

"No lieutenants, not officially," She started. "They gave me a senshi. One of the girls they captured during the Masquerade. Amphitrite," She twisted her fingers between each other and continued to mess with her gloves. "I take better care of her. When the spec ops Lieutenant fancies himself a visit and invades my home to menace her, I can make him leave. It is more work. It is also more protection, not just for you when you do well but for those beneath you. Heavier, harder, but also... More payoff, I suppose. More weaknesses too, if you let on you care too much."

She swallowed, as if her throat were dry. "The secrets, what little there are, also weigh more. As if they're always closer, and soon there are not even small secrets that seem easy to keep. How... Do you... Have you ever..."

Cracks in the facade seemed to form at a rapid pace while her fidgeting amplified the entire nervousness of her body language.

"Have you ever gotten attached to one of them? On the other side? In a way that was too much to numb?" She whispered hoarsely, as if simultaneously ashamed and terrified of her mistake.

Shazari
Quartz tilted his head -- it was always interesting, and a bit surprising, to see what information the Negaverse withheld from its agents in their lower ranks. His situation as a conscript meant that he was privy to some knowledge that the others weren't . . . the rest all came as a result of having Schörl as his teacher, always thorough, always expecting the best. She rarely left him in ignorance for the simple reason that she seemed to rarely believe he'd benefit from it. Questions were answered; information was given. And this, at least -- conversion from Order to Chaos -- he had experienced. There was nothing to be gained in trying to re-mystify the process.

"General Schörl says it's because the magic of it's such a delicate process. Evidently, altering the, ah -- the flow of magic in someone whose abilities are already active is such a difficult thing to do properly that only a General-Sovereign can manage it at all -- and even then, somehow the magic of it, the glamour, splits you -- it cuts your identity in half even in your own mind, and one half attaches on, and you forget the other half entirely. I was unlucky, and forgot twenty-eight years and two daughters. And kept thirty minutes." He looked away. "Could've happened to anyone. Luck of the draw, you know how it is. Still, whoever those two little girls are, they're better off this way. Kids don't belong within five hundred feet of Stroud."

That was the sort of comment best meant to be punctuated with a good swig of a stiff drink. Alas, he didn't have one -- but Quartz left an appropriate pause there, all the same, to indicate the heft of the sentiment.

Her assessment of captaincy -- the new responsibilities, the relationships that came with having subordinates -- was an interesting addition to what he knew about it. He wanted the freedom of it, as Galena evidently had, but the idea of looking after the welfare of a bunch of willingly converted little shits, happily plucking starseeds and energy orbs . . . that part had less appeal. Galena had a conscript, and sounded like she was getting attached to the girl -- but Quartz doubted anyone would assign a fellow forcibly converted soldier into his oversight.

It was her last question, though, the nervous one, that left him feeling like a turtle wincing backwards into its shell. What she was asking was potentially completely sincere, in which case he could scarcely be more sympathetic, or else it was a well-baited hook cast precisely near his mouth, waiting to see if it would catch properly.

Maybe it was a well-executed ploy. Or maybe Galena was just the frightened young girl she looked like right now, drifting alone in an unending hell, struggling desperately to hold her life together. He wasn't sure which was true.

"Nothing's too much to numb," he answered after a while, and very gently. "That's why they make alcohol."


“I’m sorry,” She murmured, holding her own wrist at her midsection, standing stiffly as he relayed the information about his daughters.

“They’ll take care of each other,” She stated, although Galena-- Even the Galena that was not a carefully molded mask-- Didn’t think much of fathers or have much of a concept for how they fit into any kind of family unit. Where there were easy identification points in Quartz’s situation, two little girls without their father needing to navigate and survive in this city hit closer to home. Especially with the sparse details allowing her to project, and the recent corruption of Sailor Freia burning in the back of her memory.

“At least that’s what me and my sister did. Before… all this wonder and magic came into our lives,” She coughed, the hoarse terror giving way to the most vocally fervent emotion she had been capable of exhibiting in a long time, and it was nothing but raw and bitter sarcasm.

There was a strange pause, and it was due to wondering if she wanted to tell him about Freia. Was the connection really worth keeping secret when the higher ups and at the very least, Labyrinthite knew? Would it serve any purpose, even if to further ingratiate a relatable soul?

“She forgot too,” She ended up saying. There didn’t need to be a name, or a face, to make the comparative relationship. “All of the important things, all of those years. They expect thanks, because they didn’t kill her. And now I owe them. Conscripti-- Corruption... costs in resources.”

The volume of her voice had decreased gradually throughout her final sentence, and then she brought herself back to the dry and nearly monotone demeanor, along with that unhappy smile. “You’re, right, though. Of course you are. I shouldn’t say such dangerous things when I could better spend that time finding a bottle of grenache,” She gave a lighthearted, if insincere, little laugh as if she had made an insignificant party joke, but her hand came up to rub the back of her neck, and then swung forward just a hair as if she was going to attempt to brush fingers against his arm. She stopped just short of making contact and retreated back a step further for fear of being invasive.

“Thank you for your company tonight, Lieutenant Quartz. At the very least, may I save you an extra trip? I have my quota to deliver, and a report to make. I would be glad to save you the trouble and report your contribution to the coffers as well. You look tired, you shouldn’t have to be doing more than you need to.”

Shazari
Corruption. Purification. He'd learned not to incorporate those words into his vocabulary. Always say conversion or conscription. Always say defection. Never remind them that you understand what you are: a slave. Never make your hatred seem dangerous, only petty. Whiny. Mutter under your breath, never over it. Never be respectable, people who are respected are taken seriously -- and they'll hold you to a higher standard if people take you too seriously. Be an unhappy slave, but not an angry one. Be careful at all times.

He was careful. He'd learned to be. "The oldest is three," he said. "So it's not so bad. When they grow up, they won't remember their father any more than he remembers them. It's fair that way. Less cruel."

A sister -- converted too. Quartz felt himself mentally stumble, processing this new information. He had often considered his own fate to be a wretched one -- captured, converted, mistreated, systematically deconstructed -- but now there was this other story, Galena's story, surfacing in shades (if he believed it, he reminded himself -- but had a harder time holding onto his bitter skepticism now). To be forced, life or death, by a stranger to join the Negaverse. Then -- even serving them, even though she'd given her life away already -- not to be able to provide any protection from the same happening to her sister. To ransom herself to save her, only to turn around and be forgotten by the same person she’d just risked and offered so much for . . .

'They'll take care of each other.' And Galena had. And now no one was going to take care of her in return -- no one except Cinnabar, whose protection she'd purchased with payment in flesh and warmth, and was probably contingent on Galena keeping up that enterprise.

She was alone in the world -- and her choices had turned out very unluckily. "I'm sorry about your sister," he said with surprisingly little awkwardness, considering how awkward all of this was. "And about you. I hope you catch a break soon -- no one around here gives them away for free, and anyone that would hasn't got anything to give you." Quartz least of all. The best he could give anyone was not to report them to Schörl -- and even that he usually did, in the end.

He looked down at the three big energy spheres cradled between his hands for a moment. I can always check later, he thought. Make sure all three get reported as turned in. Quartz held out his hand. "If you don't mind; thanks," he agreed. "I do in fact make it a policy not to ever do more than I need to. Good night, Captain. Watch out for yourself."


“Same to you, Lieutenant. No one else is going to,” She countered with a small wink, carefully taking his haul for the evening and teleporting off.

Her report was turned in that evening, marking an unremarkable encounter with three youma and one lieutenant and crediting him with three energy orbs, as promised. Even if the three orbs were the smallest ones in her cache, where she has gone ahead and taken credit for what he had actually given her. Just like she had shared the basic structure of Freia’s story for blanks to fill in, Galena wasn’t one to lie so much as misdirect and mislead.
Several sentiments had been honest and genuine, and probably more honest than she typically was with any other officer on her own side. But where Quartz was conscripted as a slave, Galena saw herself brought in as a toy in a game. It wasn’t her first choice, being part of it, but if she was stuck in their stupid game, then she was going to play to win.

Her own notes on the encounter were filed away, and she toyed with other thoughts. She had been coping with anger at the organization and Labyrinthite for Freia’s corruption, but maybe the wayward sister was a boon after all.