Focus. Abner nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think past the fog in his head. Focus. Memories seemed to blur and distort when the other him was in control, the Enclave’s machine—fragmented thoughts from a fragmented mind. Still, there had to be something there. Something they could use.

“I was...on patrol,” he recalled haltingly. “Near the outskirts. Heard reports of raider attacks. They sent me alone, of course, that’s my job. Don’t remember seeing any civilians around either.” No witnesses. Had they planned it that way?

“Then...someone grabbed me, I think. Grabbed my coat. Was about to fight back, but...” He shook his head. No good way to explain that part without giving too much away. “They said...something...to me. Might’ve been a woman’s voice, but I’m not sure. That’s when I went away. After that I remember...I remember tasting blood. I think I bit someone. And I remember the mess it made.” He’d been covered in gore when he turned himself in. The thin t-shirt they’d given him instead showed far too many of his scars for comfort, but it couldn’t be helped.

“...Sir, help me out here, please. Who did I kill?”