The Doctor and the Demigods of Rome

Interrogation

Because today was the first day out of Middle School (Junior High, whatever you call it) for me, here's a new chapter! Got a lot of downtime from this point on, so I'm going to be updating this whenever I'm bored or once a week. Whichever comes first. Unless I get grounded, which may happen.

And I got my information mixed up in the first chapter. It takes place after the Heroes of Olympus series, but I'll try to keep as little spoilers in there about Mark of Athena, House of Hades, Son of Sobek, and whatever the last book is if there is a preview in the House of Hades.

Sorry for the long Author's note! Just read now!

Rory was shoved down in front of a pair of thrones, each occupied. He wasn't able to tell who was sitting in the thrones thanks to a very obnoxious Roman soldier kept shoving him down whenever he attempted to get back up.

"Who is this false Roman?" a man asked from one of the thrones. Rory got a quick look at him before getting shoved back down again, and was able to tell he was a scrawny, pale, blond kid, no older than twenty, if that.

"Rory Williams," he managed to get out. His cape had been torn, and he had a black eye, all from beatings done by the guards that were kept outside his cell. Luckily, his chest and stomach faced barely any pain due to the armor.

"Well then, Rory Williams, the false Roman. How did you get into my camp?" the pale boy said, getting up to his throne to crouch in front of Rory. He wore a white toga, with a purple sash around it that would make a girl scout run away in shame. Not in badges, though, but in length, and sash-e-ness.

"I came in a blue box with my wife and her best friend," Rory said, honestly telling the truth, but from the look of the boy's eyes, he didn't believe. And why would he? That box would only be big enough for two of them, not all three. And, somehow, the box locked behind them.

"Reyna, would you mind getting those little metal toys of yours out?" the boy asked sinisterly. Metal toys? Rory gulped at the mere thought of what they could be.

"For the hundreth time, Octavian, their dogs, not toys!" a woman - Reyna perhaps? - said towards the man crouching in front of Rory. She gave a short whistle, and a silver dog appeared. Right behind the silver dog was a gold one, shocking Rory, but not as much as it would of when he first found out the "Raggedy Doctor" was real.

"Tell the truth, and they won't eat you, Rory Williams," the woman said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Octavian got up to his feet and began to pace around Rory. Must the scrawny boy pace, as though he were expecting him to lie? Rory thought.

"First question," Octavian said, kicking Rory in the side, making him curl up in pain. "Where are you from?"

"Leadworth," the Lone Centurion groaned, once again making an attempt to at least sit, which he was granted thanks to Reyna showing the guard away from him. "Which is in England, if you were wondering."

"Ahh, a British boy," Octavian said, once again crouching next to Rory, spitting in his face at the word "British".

"I just want to see my wife," Rory said, attempting to stand, but Octavian's firm grasp met his shoulder, pushing him back down.

"You're not going anywhere until we decide to let you go, understand?" Octavian half said, half demanded. Maybe he was bullied in high school and wished to take it out on poor, defenseless, ex-plastic roman soldiers from over two thousand years ago, Rory thought. That was the most logical explanation that Rory could come up with, compared to Octavian actually being half Sontaran, and just loved to pick a fight.

"Ask away, then," Rory said, ruffling with his cape now, mainly to irritate Octavian, which was working.

"How old are you?" Octavian asked, his face getting increasingly redder.

"Umm… in years alive, since birth, or from earliest point I've been to on this planet?" Rory asked, not at all joking, but Octavian was making the assumption that he was. "Because I could have been to an earlier time that's not on this planet and never knew it, easily. Or, possibly, from most recent death?"

Even Reyna had to surpress a laugh at Octavian's face. It was as red as a tomato, and appeared that he was going to have a temper-tantrum, similar to ones that toddlers have. Rory smiled. Next time, he thought, let me see my wife and I won't humiliate you.

"Whichever you want!" Octavian screamed, making a guard rush in, but was quickly shooed away by Reyna.

"Alright, what year is it?" Rory asked, already doing mental math to figure out how "old" he was.

"2018, of course."

Rory began to write on his leg, using his finger. Of course he couldn't see what he wrote, though, but it helped him keep track of his numbers. "I'm one thousand, nine hundred and sixteen, give it or take. Based on the earliest point on this planet I've been on, of course."

Octavian looked at the metal dogs, who stood faithfully by Reyna. Why are they not attacking the false roman, the liar, the one who never stops joking? "They must be broken, Reyna," he quickly retorted.

"They're not broken, Octavian," said Reyna, deciding to leave the shadows and stand beside her companion. She had a black, glossy braid going down her back, her brown eyes a lovely shade. She wore golden armor under her purple sash, unlike Octavian, and bore many medals. On her forearm, Rory noticed, was the letters "SPQR" and a crossed sword and torch. She had multiple bar lines underneath it all. The centurion then noticed that Octavian also bore something similar to that, but rather than a crossed sword and torch, a lyre, the symbol of Apollo.

Truly angry now, Octavian burst out of the room, stomping his way far away from Rory. Slamming the door shut behind him, Rory just barely got a glimps of the guards at the door quickly following him, struggling to keep up.

"Sorry about Octavian. He's just angry that you outwitted my pets," Reyna said, petting the golden dog. "Wish that I could help you out, but he has more political power than I do."

"So," Reyna said, sitting back down in her throne, once again in the shadows. "Which god are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"God?" Rory asked, standing up.

"Yes. You said you were one thousand, nine hundred and sixteen. So you must be immortal."

"No… umm… I'm mortal. Trust me on that, I died numerous times."

"So you escaped through the doors of death?" Reyna asked, seeming to understand something that wasn't true.

"I guess you can say that," Rory said, confused. "Figuratively, of course."

"I don't understand," Reyna said, scratching her head.

"I died. Then came back as a plastic roman with a hand-gun in 102 A.D. Then died again, and came back as a full on human."

Reyna had no clue what to say. Plastic roman with a hand-gun? What the hell was he talking about? She merely left the room, leaving the guards to take Rory back to his cell. Maybe the girls would make more sense?

Review!