Fate/Barren Lie: A Fate/Zero Quest

Day 16
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Mutual imminent assured destruction ensures mutual cooperation. Just don't expect for the trust to last much longer than that...
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
[X] Delve into Saber's past
[X] Go clothes shopping with Jack. She needs new clothes, after all.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Once upon a time, there was a young, bold and arrogant prince.
As the son of the Emperor, he was trained to be a noble, learning manners and poetry and swordsmanship.
But the prince hated what he learned, hated everything except for his swordsmanship lessons, and his hate became so large he became known for it, known throughout the palace for it. Hate, hate, hate.
The only ones that cared for him were his brother and his father, the Emperor - but the prince knew only hate, and responded to love with hate.

He hated the lessons that he learned, for they were of little use to him .
He hated the people around him, seeing them as simpering fools that wanted to use him for their own gain.
He hated the emperor, seeing him as a weak, senile fool too old to rule, too set in his ways and crippled by his emotions.
And most of all, he hated his older brother, the prince in line for the throne, because for as long as his brother was alive, he would never ascend to the throne.

So, he killed him. Asked for a private conference with his brother, with his sword hidden by his side, and once they were alone he killed him. Cut him down in an instance. The prince was always good at swordsmanship, and so it was easy to kill him. And when his brother looked at him, with betrayal in his eyes, as he lay dying; he felt nothing.
Nothing but resentment, left to fester and grow over all those years. Fed by scraps of pride and hatred, nurtured over days, months, years.
(He didn't resist, didn't protest as the guards dragged him away, his sword falling out of open hands.)

The Emperor grew scared of the young prince, for if the prince killed him, the prince would become Emperor, usurping his throne. He was scared because the prince would kill him simply to kill him, to revel in his hatred.
The safest option would be to kill the young prince, sentence him to death.
But, he still loved his son, and so he simply sent him away, to the land of Kumaso. The land of his enemies, an almost-certain suicide mission. Not even the prince's swordsmanship could save him there, for his enemies numbered in the hundreds, in the thousands. And it was only an exile in name; it was all but assured that the prince would fall in battle. A small mercy, a better alternative to being executed.

The prince knew this as well. He knew that he was to die. Alone. With nothing but his hate.
Hate. Hate. HATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATE
But.

Hate has a way of compelling someone, like a cornered rat who has no other options left but to eat themselves. A trapped fox gnawing off their own leg. Sink or swim, live or die. And the young prince's hate was so strong, that he was forced to live. Even if living meant living a half-life, branded as a murderer of kin.

So he snuck into the enemy headquarters during a drinking party, disguised as one of the attendants. It was easy; the prince had been gifted with extraordinary beauty, and he easily infiltrated the party.
He drugged the drinks, so that his enemies were weak, and unconscious. Too weak to even hold up another glass; intoxicated and poisoned.

And he killed them all.
He stabbed, cut, sliced his enemies down like blades of grass.
Hate.
There were few enemies conscious enough to fight back.
HATE.
And he let his hate consume him, as he killed. It was a slaughter. Killing begets more killing, does it not? And the young prince had no qualms about killing.
HATE.
But, in the end, the hate drained away from the young prince, who was young no longer. As he stared at the crows, the carrion, the bodies strewn about the tent. Like a feral animal had ripped them to pieces. And what is a man of hatred without hate?
Empty.
So.
The prince left, hollow in the inside, as the hate had devoured him from the inside out leaving nothing in its wake.
...
...
...

Ah.

...

The first thought that enters your mind is, "Why am I still dressed? I'm in bed, sleeping."
The second thought is, "Okay, that doesn't really matter, this is quite comfortable."
The third thought is why your eyes are so damn blurry, why it feels so hard to breathe. Why your throat felt like it was constricting over your rapidly beating heart. Like trying to swallow a damn golf ball. Without milk.

Why. Dammit, now you're sniffling, the floodgates finally collapsing, the tears running down your face as wet streams, your breath coming out in gasps. Trying to wipe off the tears and snot off your face is a losing battle, so you stagger out of the bed, pushing Jack's sleeping face back off of you as you stumble into the bathroom. Get to the sink, and just cough into it, gasp for breath, run the tap water hot and cold, throwing it onto your face, letting it snap you out of your daze.

The face that stares back at you from the mirror is ghastly; red-rimmed and tear-soaked eyes never look good on anyone, especially not you. Your hair's a mess, your face's a mess, everything is just awful. Trying to sort out the torrent of emotions that were just dumped on you is... a not-task. A task that you're not going to even try to understand.

Except that it was. That it happened. That it couldn't have been just a memory, it was too vivid, too shocking. Not like a movie, but like you were the man behind the mask, behind the face. And you were powerless, strapped down, along for the ride. And when he started-

Your stomach violently rebels against the idea of thinking about that, and you rush over to the toilet. Just hunch over it, like a gargoyle, staring into the water as you wait to just heave your guts out into the porcelain bowl. Stare into your reflection.

There's nothing. The water sits in the toilet patiently, waiting for you to puke into it. At least if you puked, you might feel a bit better.

"Bad morning?"
You slowly turn to Saber, who's standing behind you at the bathroom door. She doesn't look too surprised; guess she has more experience with these things. You don't really care, though.

"Yeah, you could say that." Your voice is hoarse, and it hurts to say anything. You moisten your lips. "Saw some... memories."
"Ah. Need a hug?" Saber says that half-jokingly, but she's surprised when you grip her in a bear-hug, one that actually sends her staggering back a few paces.

"Hey, I have usually have girls all over me, but this... wait, why are you crying?"
"m' crying for you." You definitely don't sniffle into Saber's silk-kimono shoulder.
"...and I suppose this hug is for me, as well?"
You clear your throat, softly taking a deep breath in. Saber smells like jasmine and rice, and it's weirdly calming, like the incense in china shops except not overpoweringly strong. The smell tingles in the back of your throat and nose. "Yep."
Hugs make everything better. They helped Assassin, now they're helping you. You stand by this fact.

"Sure, fine, whatever." Saber awkwardly pats your back, peering over your shoulder at something you can't quite see. "You want me to make breakfast, or...?"
"Sure." You disengage from the Operation Hug.jpg, slouching slightly as you shuffle back to your bed, where Assassin is still sleeping. "Jack, it's time to get up." You shake her, gently, until her eyes open.

Assassin blinks sleepily, stretching out just like a cat. "M'kay, Mommy." She blinks owlishly at the sight of your tear-stained face; yeah, you still look like crap. You still feel like crap, even with the impromptu hug-session that went down.
It's made a bit better when Jack smiles at you. Because dang, that smile could cure cancer.

...

"So, what are we doing today? Anything, boss?" Saber stands back, her pink "Kiss the cook" apron proudly displayed across her chest and over her usual kimono.
You pause inbetween mouthfuls of delicious pancakes (must be pancake season, they seem to be popping up everywhere. Not that you're complaining). "Well, I was thinking about working on a Mystic Code, since-"
"Okay, anything else?"
You mock-glare at Saber; you know her well enough to see that she's just messing with you. "Okay, I was also thinking about getting some clothes for Jack."
Jack was... well, she was ripping through the pancakes like a hungry orphan child, her twin knives flashing as she cut. Which, I guess, she technically was, her being a collection of dead children and whatnot.
The problem was that her knives were... well, considering what other things she cut with them, using them to cut pancakes probably wasn't sanitary. At all.

"Jack, use your forks and knives, please." You ask from across the table.
"Why? My knives are clean." Assassin paused in her cutting, looking up at you. "I always make sure to clean them, Mommy. With soap and alcohol."
Huh... actually, that sort of makes sense. Having a skill in Surgery probably meant that Jack had to have some medical knowledge - for all she looked like a child, Assassin was pretty smart. You shrug, dropping the subject. "Anyways, we're heading out. Saber, you wanna come?"

"Nah, I'll hold down the fort. Have some things to... check out, so to speak." Saber gave a sloppy salute to you. "Go have some fun mother-daughter bonding time."
...
...
"Is it just me, or are there less people around?" You comment airily, to seemingly thin air as you walk through the marketplace. Jack was too... let's go with conspicuous for a descriptive adjective - to walk around with you, so she went astral as you walked down the street.
More importantly, the normally bustling marketplace was much more subdued than normal, the crowds of people normally present vanished. The vendors perked up a bit as you walked by, before slumping once you realized you weren't going to buy anything. Just to make them feel a bit better, you buy a few apples, munching on them as you walk.
There's definitely less people, Mommy. Jack paused. And less animals.

Less animals? You glance around the area. Yep, she's right. You guess that old adage about animals sensing disasters long before humans made sense, but... the streets were uncomfortably quiet without the usual crowds of shoppers. An entire area, deserted like a ghost town of the Midwest. The only animals seemingly unaffected by this atmosphere of dread were the crows, flocks that cawed viciously as they sat, unblinkingly, on the telephone poles and walls. You shiver; the emptiness is sorta creeping you out. Was this all because of your impromptu war? Or maybe this was the Association's doing...
"Let's get to the mall, and pick out some clothes, then."

Thankfully, the mall ended up being much more populated. Still a bit deserted, but that was fine by me. You pick out a few t-shirts and jeans - you aren't sure of what size Jack is, you'll just have to eyeball it - at the local Old Army™ shop, and head into the changing room in the back.
"Jack, you want to try them on now?"
There's a shuffling behind you, before Jack exits the changing room. "How do I look, Mommy?"
You turn around and...
Well.
Jack's wearing what looks to be a darkened version of a Japanese schoolgirl outfit, but rather than having the usual mono-colour white or grey on the entirety, the dress is tastefully black, contrasting nicely with the white shirt. On the front of the shirt is a black ribbon, simply tied together in a neat knot. The icing on the cake is her hat - a black beret with a white rose attached to the side.
Probably the best way to describe what is going through your head is-
SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
"Uh, Mommy? You're hugging me a bit too hard-"
"Oh." Quickly, you set Jack back down. "Sorry, I just-"
"I don't mind, Mommy." Jack delivers the line with a nigh-angelic smile as she looks up at you.
AND THERE SHE GOES AGAIN SQUEEEEE

Ahem. You need to regain some form of composure, so you straighten up, mussing Jack's hair instead. "Is there anything else that I can get you, besides the clothes?"
Jack looks somewhat confused at your question, her hair still slightly mussed up. "Why is that, Mommy?"
"Well, y'know..." You shrug, fidgeting slightly at Jack's questioning gaze. "I got to know Saber a lot better than I know you, so... I just wanted to know if you were settling in okay. If there was anything I could do for you, or... stuff." You aren't sure what Assassin needs.
Hell, you don't know if either of your Servants are good; you've been so caught up with your own personal stuff that you've sorta been neglecting your Servants. That thought leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
"Mmm... Nope!"
You blink. "What?"
"Nope!"
"Are you sure-"
"Yep!" Jack smiles, a full-on smile that seems to brighten the whole room. "Cuz Mommy said she'd stay with me! That's all I need."
Ah. You do remember your declaration to stay with Jack - in hindsight, your plan to "hug her and get her to be on your side" wasn't that well thought out, but... it worked, and it brought you Assassin, so that's a win. You guess you can't get too annoyed if your plan actually worked. Even if her dependence on you is a bit worrying, that stuff can get ironed out later, you suppose.

You're about to request that Jack try some other clothes (hopefully your heart can handle it, you'll just have to take that risk) when Jack sniffs the air, her gaze hardening as she looks around. "Mommy, there's-"
A servant. "Crap." You whisper. Really, of all the places to run into another Master and -
Your heart skips a beat. Saber. Saber isn't here.
Saber, who was by your side, and someone you think might stand a chance against the other Servants in head-to-head combat.
Jack? Not a chance - and you aren't willing to risk that.

Still, it's the middle of the day, and as far as you can tell the "War", if it could be called that, is over for now. There's no point in being scared, right? You're just... nervous. Just nervous.
Yeah, no. After seeing what the other Servants were capable of, you are practically shaking in your boots.
Regardless, this is a good chance to get some information about the other Servants. Maybe not speak to them, but-
You peer out of the changing room, towards the center of the mall, where you see-

[X] An effeminate-looking man? woman? wearing a casual green t-shirt and jeans, their hair tied up in a neat ponytail. Lancer, nearly unrecognizeable from last night.
[X] A... kid, wearing a green t-shirt, and Berserker. Freaking Berserker. Nopenopenopenopenope.
[X] Two cowboys. Cowboys. Twin cowboys. Archer you can understand, but... what.

"Mommy?"
Yeah, okay. Time to make an executive decision here, Johanna. Run away, follow them, or (gah) go up and talk to them. Fight or flight time.
No way this could end badly, right?

[X] Run away. No point in (accidentally or not) angering the Servants who could quite easily kill you.
[X] Follow them. That's what Assassins are known for, and... well, you can learn, right?
[X] Talk to them. It's a daunting prospect, but you might get to know more about them? Maybe they aren't so bad, after all? (haha no).
[X] Write-In (any other strategies, anything to ask/say/do)