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Four years ago, Lt. Kyanite had opened her eyes to a new world as Captain Kyanite. She had killed personally, directly, her first ever -- even if she had no choice -- and eaten a starseed. General-King Zinkenite had directed it; General Avalon had set the stage. Afterward, Kyanite wasn't sure what to do with herself. she could not deny that the urge to power up into her Negaself tickled more impatiently at the back of her neck, the tips of her fingers, the bend of her knees than it ever had when she was just a lieutenant.

And she couldn't deny the power that she felt when the delicate starseed had crackled on her tongue.

What she could do, however, was deny-deny-deny that any change had taken place. Four years ago, she had made her first and only kill to date. Perhaps that was why she languished as a captain for so long, no fire or mission to guide her. She kept to Negaspace, to missions that meant collecting information, not blood, and she had gotten incredibly good at evading enemies and running from battle. Did she still see death? Certainly. But always as the support player, never the one making the killshot. There was never a shortage of bloodthirsty Nega compatriots who wanted another notch on their belt; Kyanite was practically a desired companion for lieutenants who wanted to make their mark and not compete for the spotlight.

But to say that her lack of progress went unnoticed would also be a lie.

Perhaps that is why she was working so hard to carve a path that she felt fit to walk -- one that involved the kind of subterfuge she was comfortable with: a media campaign. Over the years, she had managed to grow her online presence on Twitter and her blog, but the numbers still were not high enough, her reach not wide. She had even enrolled at DCU in a media communications and broadcast journalism double major (hoping to get effort brownie points with the higher ups) to try and hone her craft. For every event in DC, she had a pro-Nega spin on it, but without enough readers, it didn't matter.

So the orders had come down for her to seek out help from a more experienced agent, one who had been doing this work more successfully. She hadn't been briefed on the channel, just that she was to meet someone named Jade at a more discreet coffee shop in a seedier, Nega-dominated part of town. In typical Renna fashion, she had a folder of ideas and a fresh notebook and slick gel pan to take notes. She was dressed to impress in a business-professional button-up shirt dress with a jean jacket slung over it to make it look a bit more casual.

Upon reaching The Baseboards, Renna realized that her choice of dress was probably off the mark. She descended two flights to a subasement to discover a coffee shop full of crushed sofas bleeding stuffing, a faint air of vape smoke, and a series of outfits in every shade of hipster neutral. She looked like a social worker here to pick up a delinquent.

Lovely.

Clearing her throat, Renna scanned for a woman sitting alone, but everyone was paired up or clearly not waiting for company. More than a name would have been nice. Even so, she skirted her way over to a corner with a good view of the door, no surprises thank you, and sat primly on a distressed leather chair that had seen much better days. A small round table was in front of her and a plaid patchwork loveseat beside her. She set her notebook down on the table and then, thinking better of it, slid it next to her.

Sweat prickled her palms -- this was a chance to finally do something with her captain career. Better not screw it up!

Renna spun, senses on high alert at the tap on her shoulder and annoyance she hadn't noticed someone approaching. When her narrowed purple eyes fell on the face of the girl who had tapped her, they softened suddenly and went wide. "You're-you're Ally Argent!" she announced with more than a little bit of wonder in her voice, the South African lilt in her voice swelling in full force. She popped out of the chair, scattering her notebook and pen to the ground. A few loose papers spilled out with a bulleted list of strategies: on the street interviews, daily fashion shoots in front of anti-senshi graffiti, and such.

But, holy s**t, this was Ally Argent, and she knew Renna's name!

It didn't take long for Renna to put it together how she knew her name, which made this situation all the more delightful. Ally Argent herself was in the Negaverse! They were on the same team! Renna tried not to imagine them becoming best friends, but naturally did so immediately, vlogging together, going shopping, running from danger (she hoped) instead of fighting it.

Like most people in DC, Renna had subscribed to her channel, happy for a little humor and clever levity in a 5 minute video on... well, whatever, but she had never expected for a moment she may be Team Negaverse. Of course, there was lots of speculation about which side random famous faces were on, but unless that person wanted their civilian identity to be known, it simply wasn't. And famous folks had more value, not the kind of thing you would trust any lieutenant with. Was this some Captain perk? After four years, did they think she was ready for the big leagues?

All the maturity in her seemed to have melted away at her very uncool, starstruck response, her notebook still forgotten on the floor.

Renna fell fast to help pick up her scattered things, trying to center herself and return to her calm presence. She snagged the table as ordered, but wouldn't sit until Jade did.

She cleared her throat more than once, asked for a latte, and then spent a fidget-y couple moments tucking the same loose braid behind her ear. "Yes, of course, sorry -- I just, when they said I would be meeting up with someone to help me spread the message and become a stronger social media influencer, I didn't expect..." Her voice trailed off. "Anyway, yes, hi, I'm Renna Maddox. Or, voice dropped low, Captain Kyanite." Hopefully Jade had not heard of her.

If she had, it would be that she was a very organized, very helpful, very eager behind the scenes player who lacked the hard edge and chaos instinct that great leaders were made of.

"Have you... I mean, were you? When you made the channel, I mean, was it for them?"

Renna mirrored Jade, taking out her notepad and scrawling the date on it. Just stabbed a few dots into the paper to bullet point whatever fount of knowledge was about to pour out. She confirmed that she had all the accounts and shared the handles with Jade one by one. Renna had blogged pre-Negaverse, but never to a wide audience. She did a lot of social commentary on the news, but had a more serious approach that did not inspire a wide fan following.

She told Jade as much and then added, "I've started expanding my Twitter presence adding more of a fashion and culture angle, taking street fashion photos, the kind of stuff that gets easy retweets. But my numbers have not had any huge change. I'm not sure that I have my niche right, or that my voice is clear enough." Classes at DCU had helped her try to focus in on that, but it still felt like she was two people, a pretender to the throne.

"We are the right side," she said, nodding. "But I sometimes struggle to talk about it without, you know, talking about it, and I don't want to rouse any suspicion. It's tough."

A beat passed. She considered allowing herself to be vulnerable, to share that she wasn't sure that she had ever wanted this, that she was just looking for Marthozite, though she didn't know he was General-King Marthozite. But instead, she skirted, "I was making a lot of noise looking for someone in DC, someone that they didn't want found so they found me instead." She waved a hand around her and thought, fat lot of good I've done for them.

There was a lot of head nodding and scribbling on Renna's end. She smiled to herself at the mention of a connection to someone in the industry. That's what Renna wanted, to be in the industry. She thought her value as a civilian would maybe be the only thing she could ever offer the Negaverse, the only thing of real worth. If she proved herself there, would they excuse her failures elsewhere? She could give up parts of her life if it meant gaining them elsewhere.

"Before this, before I even came to DC," she began, gesturing idly, "I was fairly obsessed with current events. I did a lot of thought pieces and reactions to human rights violations. I fancied myself a human rights lawyer maybe, one day. Wrote for a local paper's teen section." Renna had not been one to suffer under Apartheid, but her family had. It had awakened something in her at a young age, before the Negaverse had awakened her again. "DC was another animal. I knew it was bad news, had said so. My cousin was missing." She pictured Eden as she knew him, laughing, supportive, loving.

"Then I learned he was one of us, a dead one of us. Killed by..." Her eyes dropped, narrowed. "Well, you know. All that self-righteousness and that is what they are -- killers. They're not different or special or above it. They didn't care that his mother never knew what came of him, never got to bury him. She thought he abandoned her." Renna shook her head, straightened. "So Zinkenite brought me home, brought me in. I think it was a favor to my cousin." By her tone, it was clear Renna did not think she had deserved that, or had honored that.

Renna jotted down to send the pieces. She had most of them saved on a thumb drive from when she thought she'd stay in DC by enrolling in a school here. Little did she know the Negaverse could make virtually anything happen; an impressive resume was not needed when you had friends in high places on the board.

"I am a current event now," she said. "When I felt I was investigating something or unveiling something, it was all about getting to the truth. Now I know truths I can't say. I was much more unencumbered before." It was true. When she was just trying to figure things out, she didn't have to concoct anything. Renna could simply state information, as much as she knew, without hiding anything. Having to create that division in her mind, of the things she could know and the things she couldn't -- that was the challenge. "I am afraid of revealing too much now. It's why I've moved more toward Twitter and Instagram, posting the fashion things. My heart isn't really in it, but it is safer than the risking accidental exposure."

Renna crossed and uncrossed her legs. "I want to be helpful. Useful. I think my value is more on the civilian side. To be frank, I've been at this rank for... awhile. Four years. I think I'm just lacking when it comes to fighting or strategy. I have always been better at fighting with my words, and I want to create a platform where I can do that. That may be the only way I influence this battle for the good. I want people to see that senshi are not what they appear. They are not magical cheerleaders of sunshine and rainbows; they're the evil scheming kind that smile to your face and then stab you in the back. And they can say all they want about how much protecting they do, but they have a body count as high as ours."

How would Eden have handled this? It was a thought that passed her mind more often than she would like. She had dreamed countless times of what it would be like to be in the Negaverse, but with her General-King cousin to watch over her. Would what they do be easier with him? It was in her dreams, but that was the only place he still existed: dreams.

Renna may or may not have held her breath waiting for Jade to start talking again. When she did, there was a subtle whoosh of relief from the purple-eyed girl. Girl. She felt that word so deeply, even if she had finally cracked into her 20s, if barely. Despite being the responsible, rule-following one in her friend group, there was something in her Negaverse role that constantly left her wanting. She knew she cared about her fellow agents, wanted them safe, and the only way to guarantee that would be to convert all senshi to their side. Then there would be no more fighting, no more death. Why didn't they see it?

There were certainly many answers that Renna had now, but she still felt like she was seeking something else, something hidden. Renna shrugged, but listened, happy to feel a sense of direction.

"Collaborate?" A slow smile crept over her lips. "I mean, of course I would! To me, I think the problem is that so many times an agent is just going for a simple energy drain -- no harm, no real harm -- but then a civilian is quote-unquote saved by a senshi or knight. That savior complex, that is what I want to work against, to chip away at. But, if it is for you, there has to be a spin, some sort of humor in it. My thought was to film interactions, to set senshi up -- find the meanest, mouthiest ones -- and get it on camera. We can edit it together and have it anonymously sent to you. Then you could voice over on it as a sort of sarcastic comedy reel, mocking them, mocking some of their claims, freeze-framing and playing back them looking like idiots. I think going pro-Nega can sometimes be tough and look forced, but it wouldn't be too hard to find Senshi Behaving Badly, you know?"

After a pause: "Who is the other girl on your team?"

Video clips, perfect. It was a clear goal, something that Kyanite could reach out to other friends in the Negaverse to help out with. "Absolutely, thank you for the opportunity, I'll start right away." She started making a mental list of the agents she thought might help. The real question was the senshi. Who would be a good target for this? Who could they get to look like a fool on camera?

Her latte was quickly cooling so Renna picked it up and took a sip. She jotted down Cerissé (violin) on her notepad and, reading between the lines, noted Second Girl (possibly corruption?) beneath it. "Would it be possible for you to put me in contact with them, or even just Cerissé? They could perhaps help in the videos." And strengthen her connection to the group, she thought to herself.