After signing in at the Basilicom, Jack was ordered by Histoire to follow her into a guest bedroom. Confused at the request, Jack matched her floating speed to keep alongside her whilst they navigated down several hallways, Compa and IF in tow. "Miss Histoire," Jack began, "Didn't I already make it pretty clear that you didn't need to get me a guest bedroom? If you needed me at the Basilicom, I could just sleep outside." The fairy kept a stern expression, leading the group onwards.
"This does not regard your lodging here," Histoire replied flatly. "This is in regards to a request by Oracle Chika of Leanbox." Jack sighed immediately, knowing what it was, and placed his hands in his pockets.
"Look, as much as I appreciate the notion, I don't need a psy-"
"You can try to argue, Mr. Lovebun, but I think the evidence against that claim is quite enough to prove you do need a psychological examination." Jack let out his 'Pah' of disagreement as IF and Compa shared a nervous glance.
"Evidence? Let's hear it, then."
"You committed a mass murder under the guise of vigilante justice."
Compa went sheet white. IF looked completely disgusted and shocked. Both dropped about five feet back from London.
"Shit, that news travelled fast." Jack scratched his chin. "Wait, it's been about two weeks. Fuck."
"You broke down crying in front of Oracle Chika, and she calmed you down."
"What, a bloke's not allowed to cry, anymore? Fuck kind of world is this?"
"You've made multiple threats against your comrades."
"Wow, because that's not something called 'bante-"
"You broke your friend's nose."
"He was askin' for it."
"To top all this off, your recent online searches for 'How to rip and tear like the pros' and 'Uncensored pictures of huge guts' have made this exam mandatory, going by international anti-terrorism laws." Jack's eyes went slightly wider.
"Shite, you lot can read my internet history?" he asked. Histoire stopped outside a door, looking at him with a slightly disgusted expression.
"Yes. We can read all of it."
Jack swallowed slightly.
"O-Oh. Uh, shit."
'She knows too much. But how do I know where to dump tiny fairy bodies without searching it up on Nepgeargle?'
"Now then," Histoire continued, gesturing to the doorway, "If you'd like to step this way, Mr. Lovebun." Wondering why she seemed so hostile that day, Jack complied, crouching through the small doorway and into a room that seemed to have been converted into a makeshift psychiatrist's office. One of the chairs was a long, reclined couch, with a small table beside it. The bed had been stowed away in the corner, and the fireplace of the room was lit.
Jack questioned why literally every single room in every single basilicom had a fireplace, and wondered about the fire safety implications that such articles had. Nevertheless, he entered, then stood in the middle of the room as Histoire followed inside. As she entered, the fairy turned around at the door and looked at IF and Compa. "If you two don't mind, I might request that you find other entertainment for the duration of Lovebun's exam. This is a confidential matter."
Compa looked slightly quizzical. "But you're just asking him questions."
"With confidential answers," Histoire replied.
That seemed more than good enough for the nurse, who let out an understanding 'oooh' and turned to begin wandering down the hallway. IF gave a nod to Histoire, turning to walk away. "Alright, if you say so, Miss Histoire. Just call us if you need anything."
"I will."
With that, Histoire shut the door, and turned to Jack. "Please sit on the couch." Jack shrugged.
"Uh...why?"
"It has been proven that reclined seats allow people to feel more relaxed when answering questions," she replied, floating over to him. "So please, lie down in the chair." After a hesitation, he slowly sat on the chair, a loud wooden creak being the response.
"Well, fuck me, that doesn't sound right..." Jack mused, looking down at the seat. He glanced at the fairy in front of him. "You sure this thing can take my weight?"
"Yes, I'm certain it can. This brand of couch is capable of withstanding the weight of larger Gamindustrians with ease." Histoire was flipping through a notebook, a tiny quill in hand and a teeny-tiny pair of glasses balanced on the tip of her adorable little nose. "I'm sure it will be fine." Once again hesitating, Jack steadily laid down on the couch, loud creaking emanating from it. Once he'd gotten settled, the creaking subsided, and he stared up at the ceiling.
God. He was already feeling uncomfortable.
After a moment's silence, Histoire cleared her throat, and withdrew a sound recorder. "If you don't mind, Mr. Glovebox, I would appreciate the opportunity to record this session for future study."
"Alright, fine by me."
Click.
"May I begin by asking your name?"
"It's London. Jack London. Nobody can pronounce it, for some bloody reason."
"How old are you?"
"...mentally, same age as a fifty-year old SAS veteran. Physically, about twenty or thirty."
"I would prefer a more exact age."
"Not even hit my twenties, and already too old. We gonna proceed?"
"Very well. You have previously mentioned that you have experience in the military. Would you care to expand on this?"
"Fine by me. Over the course of two years, they removed any trace of my history from Earth, then trained me really goddamn hard. It was almost inhumane: I got shot, stabbed, beaten, punched, drowned twice, waterboarded, electrocuted, set on fire, gassed, and forced to fight dangerous animals and people, every day, for about a year and a half. They called it the 'SASGIGNNATOSWATPOLIZEIRANGERSUSMCSBSSPEHSSMEHRINES' training programme, a conglomeration of all the trainin' that the world's most dangerous operators underwent, all rolled into one easy-to-pronounce package." Histoire nodded, writing it all down.
"Do you ever feel as if your training has affected you in a negative way?"
"Sort of," Jack shrugged, scratching his chin. "Because it all focused on how to be a merciless arse-kicker, there was no trainin' in social skills. A lot of the trainers would just beat me for the sake of beatin' me, and there was nowhere for me to complain about it because I legally wasn't a person anymore: No records indicated I even existed. I guess because of that, I've sort of come to expect that at any time, a person in a position of power will just turn around and beat me...and that sort of scares me. Maybe that's why I'm slightly on edge when I'm around the CPUs for too long, and why I react badly when they start threatenin' me. I guess I'm just conditioned to fear my superiors."
Histoire frowned at this. "I...I see." For a moment, she wrote this down, then circled it. "And how about your responses to threat and pain? Most eyewitness accounts have stated that you seem to show little-to-no fearful traits in dangerous situations, or are laughing when taking impacts." She glanced up at him. "Is this some form of masochism?" Jack sighed.
"...I...I don't know." He rubbed his face. "Maybe. If it was, I don't realize that I look like I'm enjoyin' it. The only thing I know that I enjoy is wipin' out hordes of enemies without help, and at my own, high speed."
"Is there a chance that you developed an appeal towards sadomasochism during your training?"
"If I had to guess, then yeah. I've always enjoyed the idea of usin' violence to solve issues. For some reason, it appeals to me more than lettin' a bunch of politicians stand about and spend weeks decidin' on how to deal with a problem maker." His expression hardened. "Best to just nail the perpetrators down for what they did, and make their life hell."
The fairy nodded. "Then you believe capital punishment is an acceptable practice?"
"Short answer, yeah. There's just some crimes you don't deserve to walk away scot-free from. Back home, you'd get people in jail for life, and their cell'd be closer to a home than it was to a personal hell. The way I see it is the same as the way my Mum saw it: The minute you take someone else's life, you lose your human rights."
"A tad extreme. Do you not feel as if that system could be flawed due to false accusations?"
"Everything's flawed, Miss Histoire." Jack looked up at her. "I'm flawed. You're flawed. All people are flawed. The minute you think that a person or thing is perfect, then you rethink that, right then and there. A perfect exterior is normally there to cover up summat so unthinkably horrifyin' that nobody could ever think that such things were possible." He grinned at Histoire's troubled expression. "That's why I act like I do. I know I ain't perfect; I understand I have ins and outs. I'm a dickhead. I'm vulgar. I'm violent. The last few years of my life've been the most punishing thing that any human should ever be subjected to, and the only way I cope is by keepin' in mind that there's people who didn't have to put up with that because they didn't deserve it."
Histoire stared at him.
That was a lot to take in.
"...if...if I may ask, Mr. Glovebox," she began, clearing her throat. "You briefly mentioned how you believed that you 'deserved' that year of training." There was a silence. "...why do you feel you deserved such inhuman treatment?"
Jack swallowed hard, remembering the conversation he'd had with Noire. He wasn't telling that again, especially considering that this entire exam was being recorded. He cleared his throat, and shifted in the seat. "...y'know what, Miss Histoire? I think we should skip this question. It-It's more backstory, than anythin'." He flashed her a smile. "Nothin' you should worry about."
There was a long, painful silence.
Histoire adjusted her glasses.
"Next question. It's well-known that you stepped in during an armed robbery in Downtown Leanbox. Would you say this was the first time you'd actually employed your skills in a public place?"
"In public, no. I'd already taken down an entire field of Dogoos with Uni, and a few villagers were watching that. Their reactions said they didn't really appreciate my type over there in Lastation: Almost like they didn't like how I was givin' a first-person account of how I was killin' my enemies. Apparently, they're more partial to writin' stories over there: Third person accounts of action and adventure."
"So you didn't feel like you fit in well with Lastation?"
"Not really. Felt like I was out of place."
"Yet Leanbox is reasonably similar, and you enjoy it there?"
"You're damn right I do. They welcomed me and James with open arms. Their guild work isn't against letting you get bloody, and most of the monsters I was fightin' were practically demons. Besides that, I've had a few people askin' for me to write my biography and publish it there. Leanbox sure loves their first-person stories."
"Noted. Now, a few weeks ago in Leanbox, you had a hand in solving a hostage crisis alongside Ms. Cave, which ended with six of yo-"
"Yeah, I know how many I killed," Jack cut in sharply. "What of it?"
"According to Oracle Chika of Leanbox, you suffered a breakdown over this incident's outcome."
"I didn't expect that I would end up killin' them. Up until that point, I was able to shoot people in the head with a Desert Eagle and it would only knock them out. Then, suddenly..." Jack paused, frowning. "...suddenly, I'd...I'd blown a man's skull open. He wasn't comin' back, and that's what fuckin' terrified me. I'd ended his life, and then killed five more people. I mean...shit..." Histoire looked worriedly at Jack's thousand yard stare at the ceiling, noting it down on a fresh page.
"Mr. Lovebun, if this topic makes you uncomfortable, we can skip over it..."
"Uh...r-right." He chuckled slightly. "Yeah, probably best we do that, eh?"
"Of course. This next section is in regards to your relations with Gamindustri's people. As you've mentioned, you feel that you fit in better with Leanbox than anywhere else. Why do you feel this way?"
"They're more welcomin' to people of my type, I suppose. Lowee practically shuns people who enact any types of violence on a daily basis. Apparently, their nation's above that kind of thing, and tends to gravitate towards supportin' families, not fighters: You kinda figure that out when their entire Guild work roster is fetch quests. Planeptune's been pretty much neutral on it, and so's Lastation. But in Leanbox, most of the work they offer to people involves killin' summat, and the Guild Office workers are always pretty excited whenever I walk through the door."
"I see. And you have good relations with the Oracle of Leanbox?"
"Absolutely. I'd say Chika's the closest thing I have to a best friend in this world. We're practically the same person. Except, y'know...she's not absolutely clapped, and I am."
"Have you ever had thoughts about being romantically close to her?"
"Woah, where's this comin' from?" Jack sat up slightly, but Histoire was quick to place a tiny hand on his shoulder. He paused, looked at it for a moment, then sighed, lying back again. "...I-I've only thought about it...like, once when I first met her. A-And that's it."
"And what of any of the other Gamindustrians you encounter on a regular basis?"
"What about them?"
"Have you ever felt as if you were making romantic connections with any of them?"
Jack hesitated.
"I don't...I don't even know what that feels like, to be honest." Histoire raised a brow.
"You've never felt affectionate about anybody?"
"Miss Histoire, 'affection' and 'love' are different things..." Jack hesitated when he saw Histoire's raised brow. "...I think. I feel a lot of affection for Uni, since she's practically the younger sister I couldn't..." He paused again. Best not to bring that up. "...have ever had, but I don't love her in a romantic way. I love her almost as family, but I wouldn't do romantic things for her, if that's makin' sense."
"I understand completely. What of her sister, however? Lady Noire? According to a video uploaded to UniTube a few days ago by your friend Mr. Hillman, you and her were caught in the moments before you were about to ki-"
"She had some shit on her face!" Jack snapped, folding his arms.
"Your NepChat also shows that you and Lady Vert appear to hug quite often."
"I don't ever get a choice in the matter, but she does it anyway."
"Yet you don't push her away."
"Because I know it's a friendly gesture."
"Then would you mind explaining your 'friendly gesture' of massaging Oracle Chika's back on the Leanbox basilicom balcony?"
Jack swallowed hard.
"...that...that was...uh..." He thought for a second. "...look, if I didn't do it, she'd bitch at me for the rest of the day, alright? She said I was good at it, too, so technically she was helpin' me realize one of my talents."
The fairy nodded slowly, smirking. "Of course..."
"And why's any of this matter to you? This is mostly about my private life! Are you even a qualified fuckin' psychiatrist? Because I have my fuckin' doubts!"
Histoire sucked air through her teeth, and looked at her notes again. "Now...another note that Oracle Chika made was that you often fiddle with your weaponry if your hands are not preoccupied. Is this because you're ensuring that you are prepared in the event of an emergency?"
"Partly that," Jack replied, "And partly because everything I carry with me on a daily basis would have gotten me life in prison back in England. Right now, I'm carryin' four full-automatic weapons, a pump action shotgun, a break-action shotgun, four high-caliber handguns, three different types of knives, a pair of brass knuckles, and my raw, bloody knuckles, and all with no licenses. Even one of those would've put me at Her Majesty's pleasure, and I'm packin' fourteen of the damn things. I guess it's my way of feelin' truly free, when I just whip out an AK and start sighting it because I damn-well can."
Histoire gave a slow, contemplative nod. "Then it's an almost vengeful act against your previous home?"
"You're damn right it is."
"Yet there is a chance you will never see that place again. Why do you feel that acts of vengeance against it are necessary?"
"Because now I'm free."
"Free from what?"
"The old system I lived in. Back then, I was just 'some guy'. I studied Drama and Media. I played video games in my free time, and that was the closest I could get to excitement, and the rush of danger. But look at me now. I'm almost six foot, I have enough firepower to kill half of Hell, and I'm copin' with it just fine." After a few moments, Histoire finished writing that down. "Anythin' else you need to ask?" The fairy hesitated.
"Yes...though these may be delving back into 'personal' territory."
"Go on, ask. You won't know 'til you've asked."
"According to your companion, Miss Cave, you seem to become a different person entirely when you're wearing less garments than normal."
Jack's face suddenly went hot. "O-Oh...r-really?"
"Allegedly. She mentioned how you seemed like a 'deer in the headlights' when she spoke to you at the public baths. Is there a reason for this?"
"...I...I just...u-uh..."
Histoire couldn't help but smirk slightly. Miss IF was right: It really was some teenage fear of girls.
"Um...I've...I've not really had that sort of view of a girl, before...s-so...uh...yeah..."
"Additionally, a conversation with Oracle Chika stated that when she spoke softly in your ear whilst holding your shoulders, you quietened down almost instantly and your posture tensed considerably." Jack was sweating at this point. "Going by my experience, this tends to mean that you have focused mostly on dealing with problems in an up-front way and dealing with constant pains, yet your body is unsure how to to respond when no situations have arisen, or when you receive pleasurable sensations. Do you feel this holds some truth?"
"Uh...uh! N-No!" he snapped, shifting in the seat. "That...that's...j-just...a reflex!" Histoire smiled at him further. "Sh-She caught me off guard! Th-That's all!"
"So you feel that this is one of your only real weaknesses, besides psychological breakdowns?"
"...I'm...I'm not answerin' that."
"I'll just put that as 'yes', for future reference."
"Fuck yo-"
"This next question regards your views on the CPUs."
Jack breathed a sigh of relief, composing himself once more.
"Fine. This, I can deal with."
"What are your views on Lady Neptune?"
"She's alright, I suppose," he replied, scratching his head. "Not really had much contact, but she's alright, I guess."
"Do you feel she is a good leader?"
"Well, apparently you do most of the paperwork. You told me a while back that she just sits and dicks around whilst you run the nation. So, I dunno."
Histoire smiled. "Indeed, I do most of the work in the basilicom. Do you have any feelings regarding Nepgear?"
"I've spoken to her about three times. Once on the first encounter, the second time was that night where you wanted to see my gear, and the third was when we had a bit of a chinwag about the merits of mechanized warfare. She said that mech suits should have less armour, and I told her that they needed more, because fightin' them wouldn't look as cool if they went down too fast. Aside from that, she's a clever young lass with good manners. I can see her becomin' a fantastic leader at some point."
"I'm glad to hear that." Histoire scribbled this down. Jack noticed that she struggled to hold the pen because she was so tiny. It was adorable. "Moving on, please describe your opinion of Lady Noire."
"Well, she is the CPU I had to pledge allegiance to so that I could gain citizenship," Jack began, moving his hands for emphasis. "It's part of the documents I signed to say that I have to trust her. Thus far, I'm not seein' any reason not to. She's created free healthcare, free gas and electric, free education, and Lastation's unemployment rating is pretty bloody low. Not only that, but once you crack the hard, sociopathic exterior that's basically just Patrick Bateman but slightly more bitchy, then she's alright. Can't see any reason to dislike her. And Uni's great, too."
"So I hear." Histoire continued to write. She looked like she was slightly tired from writing, since she seemed to be struggling with the pen. "From what everyone tells me, you hold both Lastation sisters in very high regard."
"Why wouldn't I? Noire's a great leader that looks a bit like a supermodel, and Uni's her adorable little sister with the itchy trigger finger."
More silence followed, filled with the pen scratching on paper.
"Please explain your views on Lady Blanc."
"Same as Neptune. I didn't really hear about much of Lowee's politics scene, and that's maybe because it's pretty hushed up. I'm pretty sure Lady Blanc does a whole bunch of work herself, then you've got Oracle Nishizawa doin' a bunch, too. Plus, now they've got James to help keep Rom and Ram amused. I think they're doin' pretty well." He hesitated. "Actually, I think Lady Blanc could probably do with lookin' after Rom and Ram a wee bit more. She has the same problem that Noire had, in that she doesn't interact with them enough. They're her sisters, for God's sake, the least she could do is read some books to them or play with them every once in a while." Steadily, Histoire got it all down.
"Finally, I would like your input on Leanbox's politics."
"Ahhh..." Jack closed his eyes and grinned. "Well, to start, that place is a fuckin' Capitalist's dream. In Leanbox, what I learned is that you can work as hard as you fuckin' well want, and you get the paycheck to prove it. You can own whatever you want, drive what you want, live where you want, and do what you want, so long as you've got the bank account to make it happen. It's the kind of country I'd give anything to live in." He looked at Histoire again. "Anywhere else, the Guild decides what you fight for. In Leanbox, you can fight for what you believe in: Not for a company, or a nation, or for anyone else."
"Mmhmm. Is it possible that you think this because you're so popular over there?"
"Nah, I don't feel like I'm being biased. It's a great country. It's like I'd imagined America to be before I actually went to Florida that one time. Leanbox is what every country strives to be."
"Then you think highly of Lady Vert?"
"Absolutely. If she's managed to make her country into an insanely powerful and incredibly prosperous superpower single-handedly, then I've got huge respect for her."
"What of Oracle Chika?"
"Basically one of my best friends. When I first showed up here, I didn't think anyone else would be able to match my level of sarcasm, slight racism, questionable political views, and hatred of political correctness. But that's who she is. Chika Hakozaki: Literally just Jack London with green hair and tits." Histoire concealed a laugh. "Anyway, I spend about 60% of my free time in Leanbox with her, just because we get on together so well."
"From what I understand, you two seem incredibly comfortable around each other. Does this explain why you issue massages to her, and why she almost always sits next to you when possible?"
"Uh...probably?"
Histoire let out a quiet 'hmm', finally tapping down the pen. "Alright, Mr. Glovebox, I think that's all I have to ask you," she said finally, putting the pen down with a sigh and rolling her shoulders. "I'll get you the results of your test soon."
Jack nodded, standing up. "No worries. How long's 'soon', if I may ask? We talkin' tomorrow, the day after, later today...?"
"About three days."
"Fuck me."
"It takes time to gain an accurate final result!" Histoire said huffily, folding her arms. "Besides, I need to rest. My arms are tired from writing so much in such a short space of time..."
"You didn't have any form to holdin' the pen and tried to write too fast, 's why," Jack explained, raising Histoire's brow. "If you'd've just taken your time, I'd've been more than happy to repeat what I said. You just need to calm it down: Your tiny, adorable little arms aren't cut out for so much hard labour." The fairy slowly looked down at her hands.
They hurt like all Hell, just like her biceps and forearms. He was right: She really needed to keep it calm.
"I...appreciate the advice, Mr. Glovebox."
"No worries."
"If I may ask, how do you know so much about handling long objects for extended periods?" Jack shot her a look.
"Ain't it obvious? I'm a rifleman. I handle guns all the time. If I don't have the posture and grip right, the recoil'll break my wrist." He gestured to her. "You would probably get RSI in your entire arm at the rate you're goin'."
She smiled, putting her glasses away. "So you know about biology?" she asked. "I never took you for someone who was interested in the nuances of the body."
"I had to learn it," he shrugged. "Otherwise, how would I know which parts of the skull I can punch through?"
Histoire sighed.
"...of...of course. Now then, since the examination is over, you're free to go. Miss Compa said she wanted to take you to the Planeptune Markets, and Miss IF normally follows Compa wherever she goes. Perhaps you three can get to know each other over a day of shopping?"
Jack smoothed through his hair. "Well, sounds fine by me. Can't be any worse than Camden."