HoloAdvent (A Hololive fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter 20

"Clones?" A question lingered in the air as they sat in the kitchen area. It had been a few hours since the intensity of the conversation had taken an unexpected turn. What was once a moment of relishing in Fuwawa and Mococo's repaired relationship with their parents had transformed into a preponderance of seriousness just hours later. The opportunity to visit the twins' home had been presented as thanks for taking care of them but a new contingency unveiled itself. 

Crill thinks to himself that the worst has yet to come and wished for a better tomorrow, wishing furthermore that blessings arrived quicker than these little raindrops of incremental and discomforting disclosures that were happening right now. That certain type of disclosure was going to be unwrapped by Shiori Novella, who happened to treat all of this with hints of unceremonious glee. 

"Even I'm perplexed. You withhold such information, Archiver. I'm beginning to think you have more secrets than the individual colors of your striped stockings combined." Nerissa was probably trying to admonish her but kept calm. "Do tell us how you came to this conclusion. That we have illusions of ourselves that are trying to kill us?"

"KILL?" The twins shouted. "Fuwa, did you hear that?" "Yah, I did..." Somehow, the ambience of the air shifted expeditiously when that specific word came out.

Crill was intent on listening, feeling Bijou drawing near their side, linking arms protectively. If he didn't know any better, she was pushing herself against him more than she reasonably should've.

Initially, the group had thought it would be one of Shiori's jokes once again, that she was just spouting out random discourse she voraciously read about in one of her satirical novels. She loved poking fun when moments like these arose to release the tension or to simply gauge the reactions of her friends. The woman loved to rile them up and cause stress, though that wasn't something they were strangers to. Once that wasn't the case and everyone was as stiff as a board, they settled for the more steely, maybe cantankerous atmosphere they were caught up in. This had gotten so serious all of a sudden. Crill was more used to the girls laying down mayhem but not in this level where it was still boiling and Shiori stirred at it slowly, her scrupulous fingers carefully holding the ladle.

"Please don't look like you're about to split my home in half with those looks of yours," Crill said. They looked too serious. In to their element too much. They pretty much resembled caracals right now, a harsh environment where they could run freely being important to their biological and physiological tendencies to thrive. In this instance, the girls looked to thrive more when they were exposed to the thrill of danger. A gulp threatened to appear in Crill's throat but kept it down, telling himself in his head that it wasn't opportune to disturb even with such a small sound. The littlest of things could affect the biggest plans, while idiosyncratic to his circumstances, the idea of it wasn't unconventional. To the likes of them, it might've been normal. To him, no.

"Hm, ah, no, I just remembered something I'm not particularly proud of." Shiori, with a wave of her hand, reversed her expression like an Uno card, from irritable to peaceable.

"Well, don't keep it to yourself. Might as well share it since we're in a discussion right now." Nerissa wagged her hand in a circular motion, wanting Shiori to say anything relevant.

Shiori clicked her tongue, leaning her elbow on the table with a fist below her chin. "Anyway, this is the matter at hand. In our Cell, an isolated and far-flung prison for species beyond human understanding, houses clones of us. I'm sure you've heard about that from Mori Calliope, Crill."

Crill understood that when Calli informed him of their former status quo. They were prisoners, incarcerated for the deeds they've committed on another level far from humanity, the only evidence of their crimes recorded in whatever law enforcement agency that was ingrained in their system. The Cell was a home for those types of individuals, evoking a bad omen that spelled disaster for millions, defied what shouldn't be defied, plentiful in its roster of convicted executioners.