Santana stumbles backward as the dented iron door, suddenly swings open and Quinn steps out. She'd been in that small room for nearly two hours, and with the blood that was on her hands dripping onto the grey concrete, even from where she was standing she could see the blood stains on her clothes as well, all that blood. "Did you kill him?"

The question hangs in the air as Quinn's eyes revert back to normal and she turns to look at Howard who was cowering in fear. "It's proper etiquette to offer your liege a towel after even small exertions—I should have brought Blaine," Quinn mused, mostly to herself.

"I—uh—right," Howard said taking off leaving the two of them alone.

Quinn sighed and flicked her wrists, watching as most of the blood flew off her wrists and hit the ground. "I'd rather a towel, when blood gets on your hands it becomes sticky. It's not a pleasant feeling at all. I hope he has the good sense to offer me a moist towel and a dry towel."

"Quinn."

"He's only going to get more dangerous Santana, are you saying his life, as a criminal is just as sacred as the men and women who are simply doing their jobs here? Or let alone the other prisoners, not all of which were attempting to spread panic and fear through violent means?" Quinn presses in response. "I didn't get anything from him because his mind is far too gone and there is no cure." When Santana doesn't have a response waiting for her Quinn continues. "We were far too quick to dismiss this—I was far to quick and I missed it. Charlie probably would have caught it, she's more versed in these wretched beings."

"He's still a human, isn't he?"

Quinn turns to Santana an incredulous look on her face, it takes her a moment to school her features as she studies her pet. "If I knew how to turn him back into the person that you knew, or something even resembling human I wouldn't have spent nearly three hours trying to beat the information out of him, hoping that something, anything would force him to revert to something that I could work with. He's far too dangerous to keep alive, and if this keeps up—well it's not like we've spent time studying the effects. What I do know as that they get stronger, and stronger and while there is a cap, I have seen a thrall kill a recently turned vampire."

Santana swallowed, she had no idea why she felt guilty but she did. It didn't matter that Will had sold her out. "He was a good person you know, I mean he was an idealist once upon a time, I mean I believed in what he said that we should be equal that we shouldn't be treated like second class citizens. That we were worth it—I don't know when it changed but he started talking about taking back this city and it sounded good. Until I realized he meant through spilling blood, I thought he had lost his mind."

Quinn frowned, "It sounds like someone—a member of the black court got to him, which means that there is someone encroaching on my territory and there is quite possibly more ticking time bombs waiting to go off." She scowls deeply before inhaling. "Well, this is a conundrum."

Santana ignored Quinn's mutterings and inched towards the iron door, to take a peek, "So you killed him?" The sudden banging on the iron door caused her to stumble back and she looked over at Quinn who seemed to be in lost in thought. "I thought you said—"

Quinn turns to her, "I know what I said, but I also know that you're going to judge me for it. So, the decision is yours to make. Keep him alive and locked in this shit hole, wasting resources and hoping that he never escapes and kills innocent people or putting him out of his misery and giving him some semblance of peace. You rage against us, thinking everything we do is evil when we're the ones that need to make these decisions. We need to constantly weigh the greater good with the individual Santana. So, I'm going to hand you a gun, and you can decide whether you want to put a bullet in his head or pray that he dies before he can escape. This isn't the man you knew, he's nothing more than a mindless beast, a rabid dog and there is nothing that you can do for him." Quinn turns her attention to Howard who had just come back with a towel. One towel, causing Quinn to sigh. "I should have brought Blaine along," she mutters mostly to herself, but takes the towel and begins to wipe her hands as best as she can.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"No. There is centuries worth of blood on my hands, decisions that I have had to live with, mistakes and rash judgements that I have had to own. You want to know what it's like to be me? This is it. This how you understand."

"No. I'm not doing it," Santana frowned crossing her arms over her chest, watching as Quinn turned her attention back to Howard, tossing the towel at him.

"Howard, listen carefully. I want you to bring that Artie fellow that she was talking to, and I want you to drag him down here. I also want you to bring a loaded gun, down here as well. Can you do that for me?" Quinn patted him on the shoulder before turning her attention to Santana the fake smile on her face sliding off. "You're the one that wants him alive, and I need you to understand what a monster he's become, so if it takes putting this Artie in a cage with him, then so be it."

"Look, I get it—"

"Do you?"

"I mean I don't agree—"

"Then you do not 'get it'. You don't understand at all," Quinn responds. "Your version of good is not absolute Santana, you may wish to save everyone but that isn't practical. It's arrogant, it's sentimental, it's foolish, and if you think that I'm going to become that, if we're going to become some force for good then you're going to die waiting." Quinn adjusts her clothing, fixing her form fitting blazer and picking at a spot of blood on the cuff. "I imagine, my sister hoped that would come around that you'd see enough to understand that there were decisions that had to be made. Decisions that no one else would make, and with your human empathy you'd understand, you'd see the world if only a little bit like we see the world."

"You're asking me to kill someone, someone that I knew and loved and trusted. You don't think that I know he betrayed me? That he sold me out but I'm not a monster, I will never be a monster, that's what you're doing trying to strip my humanity away from me, trying to tell me that pragmatism wins over ideals. That progress, which is something I want, something I strive for, is nothing more than a silly dream," Santana argues this wasn't the same.

"Humanity? What humanity Santana? When humans tore innocent shifters away from their families and experimented on them? Was that humane?" Quinn shoots back immediately. "War after war, where men raped women and children, where they captured other men and forced them into back breaking servitude? Was that when humanity was at its best?" Quinn spits. "Stop cherry picking the traits you want, in some naive way to determine what humanity is. Humans are complicated, they are selfish, they are sentimental, narcissistic, arrogant—at least I know what I am."

"We're not perfect. We're so much more than that, we have so much potential to be more." Santana begins crossing her arms over her chest, Quinn was getting agitated, but she needed to stand her ground. They respected that. She stumbles backwards when Quinn suddenly appears in her personal space pushing her up against a wall.

"That's what you're going on? Human potential? What does potential have to do when you're thirteen, and being forced to do disgusting sexual acts to a man who is forty years your senior? You have to hold the tears back, as he's on top of you. His disgusting rancid dick inside you, as he grunts and groans, sweat dripping on you as he looks for release. You have to pretend to like it, to enjoy every second of it, to entice him to do it again and again. You have to be okay with the fact that sometimes he lets his friends take a turn with you, because that's all you are a cunt to be passed around. Then you get pregnant with a child, possibly his but he's passed you around so many times that you're not sure if its his or not. But you think that maybe you can do some good in the world and maybe despite the shit show that is your fucked-up life you can make something nice. But you can't, because your child is worthless just like you are, and their fate is going to be just as bad as yours if not worse. So, excuse me if human potential isn't good enough. When humanity never learns."

Santana stares, the pain and sorrow was evident in Quinn's voice and the horror was still fresh in her eyes. Centuries had passed, and it didn't seem that it mattered, the wounds had never seemed to heal in any way. "I—"

Quinn suddenly pulls back and the emotion that had been on her features was suddenly hidden under her well constructed mask, as she turned to the sound of shouting and footsteps heading towards them. She inhales deeply, "Now, as I've stated the choice is now in your hands Santana. Charlie may not care, but I am not going to allow you to criticize any decision that I make without you understanding what needs to be done, what should be done."

"That's not—I mean—" Santana argues desperately attempting to find the right thing to say. "I don't want to do it. I can't."

"He's a rabid dog Santana, there is no cure there is no hope, the only thing you can do is put them down. He's your rabid dog, and I am not kind like my sister, I will not kill him for you." Quinn informs her bluntly as she spots Howard and a few other guards dragging Artie along roughly.

"You!" Artie's eyes narrow when he finally spots Santana. His face turning an angry shade of red as he opens his mouth to start shouting. Only for a dark shadowy tendril to wrap around his mouth and chin. Panic flits across his face as he begins to struggle against the guards to pull at what was against his face.

"I don't have time to listen to you bitching about how unfair your life is," Quinn speaks up as she walks up to him and forces him to look at her. "For whatever reason, she wants to protect you despite the fact that your little firebomb killed five shifters and seven humans. I have very little patience to hear you complaining about the consequences of your actions." Quinn moves and takes the offered firearm from Howard and turns to Santana and offers her the gun.

"What's to stop me from taking this and shooting you?" It's a different tactic, but when Quinn's lips twist into a dark smile and she puts the gun against her temple, Santana feels a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Quinn—" The sound of the gun going off causes her to wince as blood and possibly brain matter splatter against the iron door and Quinn's body limply drops to the ground. There's shouting as Artie's dropped and immediately Santana scrambles back, feeling the bile rise in her throat. She turns and immediately loses the contents of her breakfast. "Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck," she repeated hyperventilating as she closed her eyes.

It's a few moments of chaos, she can hear the guards moving around and she looks over at Artie who is at trying to rip the dark shadowy tendrils of his mouth to no avail. It had been stupid, she had been stupid and more importantly she couldn't imagine Charlie allowing anyone to live after Quinn's death.

"All this panic, it's like none of you have actually ever seen a dead body before." Quinn's voice pulls Santana out of her panic for only a moment as Quinn stands up and grabs the gun that had fallen to the ground. "You should always secure a loose gun." She lectures the guards who look and probably feel just as shocked as Santana feels. "Now, that you see that there is nothing that you can do to permanently put me down, shooting me just makes me annoyed and hungry." Quinn holds the gun out for Santana with an amused smile on her face.

Santana exhales for a moment and studies Artie for a moment, "There are smart humans and shifters, maybe there's a way to figure out who is a thrall and who isn't you said yourself that you can't tell. I mean if you want to get your spot back wouldn't that be the best way to do it? Find a way to be useful to uh—the king."

Quinn paused for a moment pulling the gun back as she thought about it for a moment. "I don't have time to spend hours and days trying to figure something out and keeping your friend tied up. My sister doesn't have the attention span to do it either."

"You do have an entire court at your disposal, wouldn't they want to help? They're eager and hungry to prove their use, aren't they?" Santana swallows, she seemed to have Quinn's attention. "It'll give you an edge, up won't it?"

Quinn sighs, and hands the weapon back to Howard. "Fine, but if he kills anyone else, you will put a bullet in his brain."

Santana nods, thankful for the reprieve. She flicks her eyes towards Artie and points at him, "Are you going to—"

Quinn tilts her head and studies the man on the floor, "I have no idea why you want to hear him speak, but as you wish. I'm going back to have a little chat with the warden."

Santana relaxes when Quinn turns and walks away leaving her with a litany of correctional officers, and Artie the black tendrils slowly dissipating, she winces when she realizes that he's covered in blood, Quinn's blood. She glances at Howard, "You need to make sure he's safe, and that he's not attacked by any of the other prisoners. It's on Quinn's—the Regent's orders."

One of the men scoffed, "Then the Regent can tell us herself," the false bravado was clear to everyone in the room but he shrugged it off and narrowed his eyes at Santana. "Who are you to tell us what to do? You're just a human."

Santana met his scowl with one of her own, "Look, you want to ignore my instructions that's fine but I have just spent a week surrounded by the entire Red Court. I have had my life threatened, I have dealt with sexual harassment. I have seen some pretty messed up shit, and if you want to argue with me, then I will just have to tell Quinn, that you aren't taking her orders seriously. And if Quinn doesn't do anything then I swear I'll be back tomorrow with Charlie and I'm the one that's supposed to keep her from going on a mass killing spree. So, if I were you, I'd go back to throwing your weight around with the inmates instead of fucking with me." When he finally looked away and down, she sighed and turned her attention back to Artie. "I'll try and visit so if they're giving you a hard time just let me know. Now I have to go and make sure that Quinn's not killing the warden because I think she's in one of those moods."

Santana immediately moves pushing past the guards like she had seen Quinn do and runs after the Regent, she really hoped that she hadn't murdered anyone. They were finally getting somewhere and then there was that bombshell that she felt like they should probably talk about, when Quinn wasn't hungry and moody. She really didn't want to be eaten.