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Report back to us. Make sure you do exactly what you're supposed to. All efforts to benefit the negaverse. A space Noctua, because of something she didn't even understand, was not allowed to visit unchaperoned. It would be different, perhaps, of she had enlisted on her own but... well... that wasn't exactly the case. Instead someone had shoved their fist inside her and cracked something deep and integral. She might have said she had been saved, freed even. These nightly rounds gave her reason not to sleep. She could call her insomnia a good work ethic instead of what it really was.

Whispers behind her sent shivers up and down Noctua's arms. Shapes seethed in the darkness just beyond the scope of er vision, but she dared not turn to meet them. The second her eyes landed on one of The Denizens they always vanished, leaving nothing but bile in the back of her throat. So instead she focused on the patch of rust spreading across the iron beam she sat on, hovering stories above the ground. It wasn't special, but it also wasn't horrifying. It was just burnt umber, and it wasn't stalking her, wasn't watching her with misshapen eyes, only slowly spreading, breaking down the things that man made, as was the natural order of things.

The building settled around Noctua, groaning in the humidity of the summer night. She thought, for a moment, of physics crushing the metal sheeting around her like it was only a soda can. The rust would have compromised the structural integrity, if Noctua wanted to justify it at all. She would be ground into dust in the best case scenario. Worst case, she would be trapped forever within the crumpled layers, no way to dig herself out. She would rot inside of it, with nothing but the groaning of the giant metal ball and The Denizens who crept closer and closer with every blink of her eyes. Noctua had to be careful, or else the hand closing around her shoulder would gain substance and curl wickedly pointed fingers around the bone like pale shackles. She couldn't sleep or else... or else...

The sound of footsteps from too far away barely penetrated the thick fog that surrounded Noctua. She floated, hazy and unaware, in that dangerous half-space between wakefulness and sleep. Her mind dreamed but her body was still awake. She still heard and smelled and worst of all saw. She saw the rust seethe and boil. It twitched and writhed as it took form, crawling to life as a misshapen human. From it's twisted mouth it screamed one long, high, broken note. It went unanswered which did not, for whatever reason relieve Noctua. It lurched forward, moving as though in pain and screamed with every step. It's lopsided, dilapidated face long in the shape of the sound. It screamed and writhed and came closer and closer and Noctua couldn't even blink until finally the scream died away and with it so did the creature.

It laid limp on Noctua hand for a brief moment, and Noctua waited for her mind to wake itself and for reality to return to her... but it didn't. Pain suddenly shot through her arm as the thing's form melted against her skin, trying to make her body accept it. Rust roared through her veins, oxidizing her blood and turning it to dust where it ran. What it didn't dry up, it boiled. Capillaries burst with heat, bleeding her dry without ever shedding a single drop of her own lifesource...

Noctua could have snapped her own neck at the speed she twisted it. Whoever was speaking may well have saved Noctua's life... or at least her sanity. Her arm still ached, even as reality spread itself over her but she knew that it would. The mind was a dangerous thing, hooked up to every single last nerve cell. If it says you feel pain then what the boss says goes. And Noctua's mind said that her arm was ablaze with searing heat just a moment ago.

"You here to tell me what to do too," she demanded, pulling her aching arm into her chest. She looked sideways at the woman who had come to see her. She wasn't human -- not really. She wasn't like the other officers who tried to put a leash on her. They were children, not much older than her, pulling rank like they had blood to show for it. They were petulant brats with guns that were handed to them and they were wielding them like idiots. Not one single on of them deserved her respect.

But this one...

Noctua tracked to motion of her tail with bright blue eyes, perhaps the only think visible in the darkness that surrounded her. She pulled the hood of her fuku back in a gesture of good faith, revealing her face to her new companion.

"What're you?"

Cinnabar didn't startle Noctua. Nothing did anymore. Whatever this ******** up world could dole out was nothing compared to what her own mind liked to dole out on the daily. The last couple of minutes case and point. No. Cinnabar didn't startle Noctua so much as interest her. Vaguely. And really it wasn't so much Cinnabar that interested her as it was the story of her becoming. Somewhere in the back of her skull Noctua had been forming half ideas and been unable to hitch them together. Endless musings about fear and loathing seething in dark corners of precious rooms. Her mind was too simple to fully understand the true nature of fear and the things that feed on the fear of others. For now.

With the entrance of Cinnabar, a final and necessary piece was falling into place amoungst the rubble and the chaos. As it clicked into place, Noctua's mind quieted ever so slightly, warmed with the satisfaction of near-understanding. To come closer, it would seem, she needed this woman.

But she wouldn't be anyone's patsy. If Noctua wanted what this woman had, she would have to give in equal measure -- such was the way of the universe. And need answers though Noctua might, if she was to be an attack dog, then she would be a wolf, and she would be respected as such. A wild thing who could turn if she wanted.

Noctua stood and adjusted the wrappings on her arms. She'd heard Cinnabar ask her name but she chose not to answer. Instead she undid the tie that held her robe together and slipped the shoulders down her arms. The hold in her chest gaped and Noctua could swear it twitched as the flesh around the fissure searched for what was taken from it. One of Cinnabar's kind had reached inside of Noctua, deeper than she had ever known existed, and taken something from her. She didn't know what it was -- no one had bothered to tell her. No one had bothered to tell her anything. Just to go out and fight, to win, by any means necessary.

"Until someone can explain this to me, I'm not doing s**t."

Riddles. More riddles. If Noctua heard one more riddle she was going to go postal and... and... well in truth she wasn't sure what she would do. She didn't really know what she was or what she was capable of. She didn't know... anything. Realizing that took all of the air right out of her. Maybe she would have to go this one alone. Wouldn't have been the first time... she was tightening her rob again when Cinnabar continued.

"Corrupted senshi," Noctua repeated uncertainly. "What even is a senshi and what does it mean to corrupt?" Noctua had to raise her hand to her lips to physically stop the flood of questions that crashed against them. Cinnabar had answered, yes, but those answers had only unlocked more and more questions. Not that it was this woman's fault... it looked like shadow and uncertainty was the nature of their trade... and in truth Cinnabar had been infinitely more helpful than the one who tossed her blind and terrified into this world. That made this strange woman more dear to her than anyone else in that moment.

"How do I find out more," Noctua asked in a voice which was uncharacteristically small.