Chapter Text
There is something remarkable, Shiori believes, about the world around her.
Even here.
The automaton, sleek and silver, yanks on the chain attached to her hands, urging her forward through the featureless gray hallway. Her shoes tap out a staccato pattern as she is pulled ahead, the rhythm of her footsteps changing in an instant, the jingling of the chains acting as accompaniment to her march.
“Despite their best attempts, there is music here.”, she muses to herself, unable to stop a tiny grin from forming on her face.
This levity, she thinks, will serve her well, as she approaches the looming black doors at the end of the hall.
The automaton bangs its metallic fist against them.
Once, twice.
“The prisoner has arrived.” it says, in a voice that echoes.
There is no response, save for the creak of the doors as they slowly open.
With another tug of the chain, Shiori is lead into the room at the end of the hall, in the place no mortal has ever before drawn breath.
She inhales deeply, lifting her head.
There, she sees The Cell’s Warden.
“Archiver.
Welcome home.”
Despite all she knows, all she has been made to know, Shiori finds it difficult to comprehend the form of her jailer. In the earliest days of her imprisonment, all but faded from even her memory, attempting to look at the Warden was painful, like staring directly into the sun. With time (and what did she have, except for time?) it became a simpler task, but even now the details elude her.
The Warden towers over her, even seated in the chair that they are. Though their form is bipedal, their face lacks the features of a humanoid creature’s, appearing in one glance as a gaping void, but in another as a bursting light. They wear a robe of pitch black, as if woven from the shadows in the corners of the interrogation chamber. With slender fingers, they motion to the seat across the wide, square table before them.
“Approach, prisoner.”
Shiori complies, walking with all the dignity she can manage, hands shackled before her. She sinks into the chair, meeting the Warden’s featureless gaze.
“It has been some time, Warden.”
The creature inclines their head.
“Perhaps, for a human.”
“Ah, but did you forget? I was a human.”
“Once.”
For a moment, Shiori hears the laughter of a girl with a ponytail, feels the familiar shape of her hands entwined with her own.
She banishes the thought. Her focus must be absolute. The Warden appears not to have noticed.
“We were…surprised to hear that you had been apprehended.” they say. “Though our reach is vast, it was anticipated that your capture would not occur for some time. Nor would it be alone.”
Shiori chuckles.
“Perhaps I am simply a surprising woman.”
In an instant, a red, glowing chain materializes in her vision. It wraps around her neck, and with a sharp pain she is yanked closer to the Warden’s blank visage.
“You overestimate yourself, Archiver. We are no fools. We know that you allowed your own capture, and we demand to know why.”
As quickly as the chain appeared, it is gone, leaving Shiori to crumple over the table, barely catching her head on her hands before her chin can collide with the wooden surface. The painful reminder stirs enough unpleasant memories to make her remember that toying with her powerful captor is rarely worth the thrill.
“An…offer…” she coughs out.
“Have you forgotten your place again, prisoner? Has your escape made you foolhardy enough to assume that you have anything of worth to my masters?”
Shiori raises her head once more, her heart beating rebelliously in her chest.
“But I do, Warden. I possess something that your Gods, no matter their almighty strength, could never acquire.”
Though she half expects to feel the phantom chain’s bite once more, Shiori is pleased to find the Warden staring back in silence.
“Elaborate.”
“I cannot. Not while…”
She raises her shackled hands. With a gesture, the Warden dismisses the bonds, and Shiori is free to reach into her jacket pocket. From within, she produces a leather-bound tome.
“Inside,” Shiori announces, running her fingers across the book’s cover, “is an archive of the mortal Earth. Viewed and chronicled, of course, by an expert, but more importantly, a mortal. The one thing that your Gods can never have, and all I ask is a trade.”
The Warden is silent and still, their ever-changing face betraying nothing of their thoughts. Though they have no eyes to stare, Shiori can feel their attention on the book in her hands. Silence reigns in the interrogation chamber.
“Speak your terms, Archiver.” they finally hiss.
“My requests are simple.”
Shiori takes a breath and puts on a wicked grin. She hopes it conceals the trembling in her hands.
“I want freedom. Freedom for myself, Bijou, Nerissa, Fuwawa, and Mococo. In exchange, the tome. Those are my terms.”
Her fingers clench as she waits, heart pounding in her chest. For one who thought herself inoculated to such emotions, Shiori can feel them all keenly now as she levels a stare at the Warden.
“An amendment.” they drone.
“Yes?”
The Warden stands. Slowly, they begin to circle the table.
“We have expended considerable resources attempting to recapture our five lost prisoners. You and your associates have caused considerable damage to your holding facility, to our autonomous personnel, and lead us on a frivolous chase throughout much of the mortal plane.”
The Warden’s cold hands clamp down on Shiori’s shoulders, and she struggles to stay upright.
“And, Archiver, we know well that you were the ringleader of this escape. You spat upon not only our mercy, but the mercy of the Gods themselves. For this, there is but one fitting punishment.”
Shiori closes her eyes. She nods her head, and waits.
“Your offering shall buy your comrades’ freedom. But you, Archiver, have proven yourself too dangerous to the forces of order and stability.”
As Shiori opens her eyes once more, she sees the Warden’s face, as if it were there all along.
They are smiling.
“You, Prisoner, will be executed.”
Summoning the last of her strength, Shiori meets the smile with one of her own.
“You have a deal.”