The next day, Cecilia was transferred to another facility and locked in a room walled on all four sides with concrete. When she demanded to know what was going on and why, the people escorting her (decked out in full bulletproof and leather gear) explained only briefly. Apparently, she was being detained as both a murder suspect and a potential specimen for study.
It wasn't long before a series of people came in to interview her: a couple men in black suits, some doctors, and a few oddballs she couldn't fathom the reason for being there. All the while, the double-identity parasite prattled away, making conversation with itself and sometimes including her.
To Cecilia's extreme annoyance, she was made to relay the parasite's responses to interrogation several times. Yes, they wanted to hear about her experience as well; however, they seemed most interested in hearing whatever the parasite had to say.
Was it even only one? She didn't know.
All she knew was frustration with everything about this situation.
They asked at length about what had happened with Tanner. Why it had happened, what the experience was like for both her and the parasite, whether she felt lucid at the time, why the parasite claimed not to be at fault for the incident, if it could happen again and under what conditions might it reoccur; the questions went on and on.
"Bloody hell!" Cecilia shouted at last, sick of the interviews. They had been going on for hours without a break. "Just cuz I'm infected doesn't mean I'm not human! At least give me some food! If anything, you should give me more food, because who knows what might happen if I get too hungry!"
In another room nearby, where a monitor displayed Cecilia and her interrogator, Guinevere pursed her lips slightly and repeatedly flicked the fingers of one hand. "That's not optimal," she muttered under her breath. "She needed to keep her head straight for at least another ten minutes. Actually, salvageable. It's salvageable. Yes, that, yes."
With that, Guinevere turned to the man standing next to her. He wore a sleek black suit and sunglasses. She had informed him earlier about how idiotic it was of him to wear them indoors, but, like the irrational human he was, he had ignored her.
"Inquisitor," she said shortly. "She's not wrong. You should sate the desires of the host unless you are ready for a repeat of the incident."
"Tactless as ever," he murmured. "You don't even seem to care about the implications of your statement, or that your friend is being treated like a nuclear bomb. Sometimes I wonder if you're even human yourself."
After the slightest pause, Guinevere responded, "I deal in facts, Inquisitor. It is a fact that my friend has been parasitized and it is a fact that she has behaved violently towards another human being."
Although his eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, Guinevere could sense that there was something significant within them. The need to know what it was, in her all-consuming obsession with acquiring and analyzing data, caused her to rip them off his face on the spot.
Ah.
Pity.
That was the emotion he had hidden behind those glasses of his.
"Your pity is wasted, Inquisitor. Just feed her."
With that, Guinevere returned his glasses, turned and walked away. She never knew how to react when people looked at her with eyes like those. What about her was there to pity? She was a genius by all accounts, lacked nothing in terms of analytical capability, and above all could see sense far more than the average person. In terms of an investigator, she was as near perfection as a human being could get. What arrogance would lead a person to pity her?
She stopped in the middle of the hallway, hands balled into fists. An unknown sensation welled up within her.
Why did she stop? Why were her fists clenched so tightly? What was this unfamiliar, suffocating feeling in her chest?
Thoughts of her incarcerated friend came to mind. Cecilia. Hotheaded, bullish Cecilia, the only friend she had and perhaps the only person she cared about.
Once the Supernatural Forces were done investigating what had happened, they would decide her fate. Was she safe enough to test the parasite's claims and study? Or was she simply too dangerous?
Considering she hadn't been killed already, the odds were in favor of her being kept alive, at least for a few days longer.
Was that it?
Was she... afraid? Afraid that Cecilia might die?
"Inconceivable," Guinevere whispered, standing there in the dreary hallway by herself. "Me, afraid of what would happen to another person? Attached enough to care?"
In absolute denial of the truth, Guinevere ceased thinking about it and strode briskly down the hallway. She didn't have time for this. There were other parasitized hosts the Forces needed her to interrogate.
As for why she hadn't questioned Cecilia herself… well, she had been there to supervise the process, so the end result was essentially the same. That's all that mattered.
She didn't regret insisting on someone else interrogating Cecilia this time.
Or, at least, that's what she told herself.
----
A/N: The remaining contents of this chapter may not be suitable for all audiences. Please read at your own discretion. (gaslighting, manipulation)
Hey Rogork, I've been wondering, Alesha thought while Cecilia slept. Something had occurred to her during the day's questioning, but she didn't dare ask about it until they could converse freely.
Why didn't I get any XP for killing Tanner? I get that it's a new Story again, but shouldn't it have still counted, like it did when I killed the King?
[...]
Come on, Rogork, work with me here! She pleaded. I know we haven't always been on good terms, but if I know why it didn't work then isn't it in your best interests, too? The faster we get your power back the better for you, right? I know you want to give me quests again.
Alesha knew she'd be kicking herself for mentioning quests later, but right now, she felt it was too important a matter to overlook. If there was some kind of variable that could determine whether or not a kill counted... she needed to know.
[It wasn't you who killed Tanner. It was Cecilia. Same with those assassins before the King, if you were wondering about that as well. You were an accessory to murder but not its perpetrator. Therefore, you did not reap the benefits.]
Alesha felt uncomfortable with how Rogork had phrased its answer. Murder? Sure, it was the purposeful killing of a human, but wasn't calling it murder a little too far? She had a real and justifiable reason...
Wait...
Before she could complete her thought, Rogork dug into her with a scathing analysis of her actions thus far.
[No, it is not too far. You intentionally killed someone when it was not for self-defense or in war. That makes it murder. Revenge is not a righteous cause, no matter how convenient it might be to delude oneself with that idea. The King hurt you and you killed him for it. If you want to be precise, not only was it murder, but it was also assassination and regicide.]
[Ah, and he's not the first human you killed, either. Remember when you literally ATE the poor guy who was forced to be a serial killer during the Werewolf Island Story? That happened. And I won't let you hide from it anymore.]
If Alesha could have shrunk back or cringed, she would have. Instead, she was forced to remain immobile, helpless in their shared parasite body, as Rogork's words drilled deep into her conscience.
[Oh, and remember that experience you think of as a dream? During which, you were a nobleman involved with Paranormal Events? Your most recent conversation with Zorhellian made it rather clear that experience was not merely a sleeping fantasy. What you thought was a dream was, in fact, what Zorhellian referred to as the Soul Harvest Story and it actually happened -- meaning you have killed far more humans than you thought. In cold blood, at that.]
Stop it!! Alesha protested, trying in vain to silence Rogork's torrent of accusations. The truth about what she'd done wasn't something she wanted to face at the moment; particularly not when it came to what she'd done under an identity that had been forced upon her. She'd been in a dream-like state, practically hypnotized; "Derek" wasn't her. Not really.
… Right?
Moving on as if Alesha's rationalizations were of no consequence to it, Rogork continued, [Oh, and don't forget, it was YOUR actions that caused Iritia to fall.]
[Everyone in your home town is dead thanks to your decision. If you had simply refused to experiment with Korak on your little brother's best friend, then Iritia might not have been consumed by chaos. Such an easy way you could have avoided such a catastrophic tragedy… really, Alesha, am I even needed here? You already cause plenty of chaos on your own. Everywhere you go, disaster follows.]
[You want to keep calling yourself a regular college-age girl? Pretending you're a spotless, innocent human being who's merely a victim of circumstance? Ludicrous. You are a murderer, an assassin, and a terrorist.]
[Those were YOUR choices. Not mine, not Zorhellian's, not Toltura's; none of us whom you are so fond of making the scapegoats are responsible for how YOU have conducted yourself all this time.]
Internally, Alesha flinched. Rogork's biting remarks affected her deeply. As much as she still thought of herself as the compassionate and gentle, naive girl she'd been a year and a half ago, before the attack on Faxton, she really shouldn't deny how much she had changed since then.
Did she really deserve to be called a terrorist, though? Assassin, yes, she couldn't deny that; murderer, perhaps; but a terrorist?
[Is a terrorist not someone who brings mass panic through destruction? Your actions as Derek, in creating the Ghost Wendigo and the Medicine-Craving Ghost, certainly did that. Destroying Iritia also counts as an act of terrorism.]
Seizing onto a train of thought, Alesha contended with Rogork's claim. No, those were not acts of terrorism. Terrorism is done in order to coerce an organization such as the government into doing something. My actions had no such goals. Ergo, not terrorism.
Also, what happened to Iritia was an accident! The effects of Korak are unpredictable; there was no way I could have known a Chaos Zombie Outbreak would occur because of it! And if I had known, I'd have gladly suffered the Quest Penalty for failure instead! It's not my fault that Korak is a plasma bomb of randomness!!
A chill would have gone through Alesha at that moment, if she had a body with which to feel it, because Rogork's pleasure at her response came through their mental link.
Why exactly was it so pleased? Hadn't she just made winning points?
She had a bad feeling about this.
As it turned out, her instincts were spot-on.