Ruler | Socrates
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It's Always Snowy in Chaldea [Fate/Grand Order Group SI]
- Thread starter October Daye
- Start date
Rank Up: Downtime in the Midnight Hour | Canon Rating: A
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Furiko
She wasn't sure if Chaldea was oddly quiet for a high tech installation, or if her hearing was just sharper lately. Either way, she heard them talking long before she was around the corner of the hall leading to the rec room.
"No… no, no… well, maybe—oh, oof, no. Definitely not."
Well, she heard Toby talking, at least. Abby was apparently content to let him scroll through options until he found what he was looking for.
"Huh… how about this?"
"What is 'this'?"
"Well, every year, this one channel spends a week talking about sharks."
She spotted them the second she stepped into the room, Toby lolling against the arm of the couch, Abigail straight-backed and nearly vibrating with excitement, like she'd been told they were only going to McDonald's if she were good.
Toby didn't appear to have noticed, though he may just have been trying to set the kid at ease. "To be fair to the sharks," he went on, gesturing at the screen, "the hosts do fearmonger a bit; like, if you've ever encountered a lemon shark, the damn things act like puppies. Puppies with mouths full of chainsaw teeth, but puppies."
"And these... limon sharks, be they—?"
"Figuring out the parental controls?" Ko called, figuring it would be creepy to keep eavesdropping on the cuteness. Toby turned around first, probably because Abby had heard her coming the entire time (honestly how the hell had she gotten the drop on Medea? Toby was right, it shouldn't have happened). "Probably not a bad idea, wouldn't want her to stumble across The Thing at this hour of night."
"Mm? Oh hey, guess the insomniac gang's all here." Toby waved at the sofa with the remote in his hand. "Want a seat? We're gonna watch some Shark Week, unless that's too shark-y for ya, in which case we can always find something else?"
She cocked her head to the side consideringly. "I am in favour of ocean kittens, as a general rule," she said, bringing the boxes tucked under her right arm out into her hands with the smaller one on top. "But it just so happens that I asked for an advance on my salary today, and consequently, I have a little somethin' here for Miss Williams, if she's interested."
It had originally been just one big box, but Ko'd gone to the trouble of opening it up and separating out the parcels inside. Now, she had a box with a brand new, factory-fresh Nintendo Switch and its Game of the Year, courtesy of Adam Smith.
"It's a thank you gift," Ko explained, trying to keep the tone of her voice upbeat to ward off the awkwardness of giving an extravagant, unasked-for, possibly-unwanted gift to someone from another culture who was also a child. "Y'know, 'cause you saved all our lives."
Abigail looked up at her, and looking nearly as nervous as Ko currently felt, she reached up and took the larger box, with the console in it. She looked it over, scanning the pictures on its sides, the beginnings of a look of wonder setting her eyes aglow.
"'Tis a… game?" the girl guessed.
"Yeah, kinda," Ko shrugged, still hoping she didn't look to desperate for this to go well; kids always figured out she was weird before the adults and they didn't always react well to it. Last thing she needed was a girl with a tentacular taser at her disposal to be afraid of her.
"It's a way to play a bunch of games," she explained. "Some of them I've never heard of, but I got you a new version of one I've heard people say good things about." Well, technically she'd heard people get nostalgic over Pokemon Snap - 'Pokemon Shutterbug' could be a Mandela effect nightmare, for all she knew.
"Lemme see that real quick?" Toby asked, and Ko handed it over. He readjusted his glasses and started reading the back of the box. "Let's see here… okay… huh, we never got an equivalent game to this, did we?" With what had to be long practice, Toby used a nail to split open the plastic on the side of the game case where it opened, and quickly had the box open to retrieve the cartridge. "Here, now lemme help you get that set up, Abby."
Despite herself, she had to smile as she took Abby's now-empty spot on the couch. Fussy as an aunt Toby may've been, but in the short time Abby'd been with him, her body language had changed drastically; she didn't look like a constantly-coiled spring anymore, and was letting herself linger in the middle of rooms and hallways, rather than hugging the edges.
In short order, Toby had the device ready and Abby set up near a wall outlet while it charged. She was clearly reading something, her mouth sounding out the words as she read along, while Toby clearly strained to keep himself from backseat gaming.
"So why're you guys up?" Ko asked, to distract him. "Meds wear off in the night?"
"A little of that, a little of other stuff," Toby hedged, trying and failing to keep his eyes on Ko as he spoke instead of the screen in Abby's hands. "How about you? Guessing it's the meds on your end?"
She'd known her grandfather was a bombardier, but he'd died of lung cancer when she was pretty young. She hadn't known he'd been at Dresden. After that particular dream, brief though it was, she wouldn't have been surprised to find out even her father didn't know. She knew she sure as shit wasn't in the mood to talk about it yet.
It wasn't even the dream that was keeping her awake; it was the phantom craving for nicotine that came with it. She'd never smoked a day in her life.
"If you ever get a chance to lose a limb," she said, crossing her ankles on the coffee table, "I suggest you pass. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret it, this thing is inarguably better than having a meat hand, but…" She momentarily considered whether or not to bring up what an absolute pain in the ass navigating a bathroom or kitchen was with one hand, but ultimately decided to sum both up with an all-purpose "oof." Toby's imagination tended to run with any details presented to it, no need to distress the guy.
"I mean, I could've just asked da Vinci to take my leg and swap in a new one, but…" Toby shrugged. "It's my leg. There are not many like it anymore, because it's defective, but this one is mine."
"Totally get it." Clenching and unclenching her new hand into and out of a fist, she marveled, not for the first time, at how quiet it was. "Though apparently this is supposed to adapt to my arm so well that eventually neither it nor I will know the difference. Like, that's why they're not letting me summon for a bit, they're waiting for it to acclimate to my mana so it doesn't automatically bring me an Assassin every time I summon."
Toby frowned for a moment, and when his expression cleared, it was into a look of disbelief. "... Ko? Did you get da Vinci to slip in the Ezio Special?" he asked.
She grinned, and flicked her wrist elegantly backward, pointing her palm at the ceiling. Ka-shhnk! "Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't."
Abby looked up from her game briefly to see what made the noise, but hurriedly glanced away the moment her eyes landed on the slender gold-toned knife extending from the heel of the delicately-sculpted alabaster hand.
"Ko, there are children present," Toby chided.
"Yeah," she said as she retracted the stiletto back into her arm with a twitch, "and the one I'm talking to would also have requested a hidden blade in his artificial hand made by the actual factual Leonardo da-goddamn-Vinci."
"No I wouldn't have!" Toby said, crossing his arms. "I would've asked for a grappling hook and a flamethrower."
"I mean," she said speculatively, "she said I can cast with it, I'm sure I can approximate a flamethrower once I get some training."
"Gonna have to conceptualize it first," Toby said, immediately in problem-solving mode. "You're not gonna be able to cast a spell unless you can filter it through 'imaginary numbers' and somehow get the result that way. But yeah, c'mon," he added, shifting to more fully face her. "Show me the bells and whistles on that thing."
"Well obviously I went for a heating and a vibrate option, and it's food-safe of course," she listed. "And if I flex right I can telescope it down to half its width to slip out of handcuffs or whatever - oh, and I'm ambidextrous!" Not for the first time since getting the hand, Ko pulled out the two pens she'd been carrying in her uniform pocket and started writing her name with both hands on the discarded Switch box in two separate directions. "I suggested that one while I was too high to realize it wouldn't work but she did it anyway because she is the GOAT."
"They're… hang on," Toby interrupted himself, "are your hands uneven?"
"Yeah, the new one has longer digits," Ko said, lifting them up side by side so he could see them better, pale flesh and pale… whatever-the-fuck pseudo-ivory inlaid with gold vines and little blue flowers (a da Vinci, a fucking da Vinci - it might have been easier to calm down about it if several of the lingering echoes of her ancestors weren't equally eager to celebrate). "Had to put my foot down about that. La Maestra really didn't want to be directly responsible for blatant asymmetry."
Toby shuddered, fingers kneading his forehead. "Why, Ko? I can't unsee it now, darn you!"
"I did offer to lose the other one so she could even me out," Ko added, reveling in his unease, "but according to her I'm 'not funny.'"
"Please, at least tell me there was a good reason for my needing eye bleach!"
She beamed, and laced her fingers to stretch her arms above her head, flinching slightly as she abruptly realized she'd forgotten to go easy on her still-technically-injured arm. "I can barre chord now. Spent the rest of my advance on a Les Paul tobacco sunburst."
"Hmm… at least that's a reason. And a genuine Les Paul?" Toby asked, to which she mmhmm'd. "Okay, not a bad choice. More of a Fender fan myself, and still not sure you have your priorities straight, but sure. Okay then."
Ko rolled her eyes. "If Neil Armstrong deserved a Corvette, I deserve a guitar."
"Heh, guess so." Toby leaned back into the couch, sighing. "Maybe I should buy myself something good too. After having to put up with Slaver McLet-Me-Explain as a Servant, I probably deserve a little something."
"Oof." She winced. "Yeah, heard about that. Well, I mean," she elaborated, "I heard distant shouting and asked Indy who you summoned and put it together from there."
"Just shouting, huh?" Toby shrugged, sighing as he did. "Was definitely more than that, but I'm glad y'all didn't hear it. It was… bad."
"Lemme guess," she said, straight-faced. "He ended up trying to pull rank and got super condescending."
In answer, Toby raised a hand to show his Command Spells. Two were missing.
"One to get him to speak plainly. The other to make him wait his turn."
She flinched. 'Priorities'. Gods be good, how do you get in a fight with a pharaoh and it's genuinely difficult to tell which of you is the bigger asshole?
"Yeah," Toby went on, wincing for emphasis as he ticked off on his fingers. "Tried to use volume to get his point out over mine. Kept restating the same point, dumbing it down with each restatement. Interrupted me so he could circle right back until I actually addressed his argument and either conceded the point or offered a counter argument. Talked to me like I was an infant with no understanding of the world…" Toby trailed off. "You name it. And before you say it—"
"Compatibility summon!" Ko jazz-handed, finally unable to contain a smug grin.
"Damn it, don't remind me," Toby said in a huff. "Hopefully I won't even have to think about it for a while."
"Why, 'dja dust him?" she asked, less out of moral concern than curiosity. Certainly a part of her would be crushed to hear Ramses II was unsummoned before she could even meet the man, but it wasn't as though she could blame Toby for not wanting to keep the son of a bitch around. It would've been like expecting Spencer to work with Andrew Jackson.
"And waste a valuable resource?" Toby gave her a look like she was insane. "No! I just made sure we're using his abilities as optimally as possible."
Hah, optimization, take a shot.
"Yeah," she said consideringly, after conducting a mental review of everything she could remember about the man, "I guess he'd have to be a Caster, wouldn't he? Architectural feats, speaker to gods - Territory Creation A?" she guessed.
"Noble Phantasm as his Territory," Toby corrected. "He's stuck in the Rider class 'cause the Pharaoh's sun boat has too much conceptual oomph to overcome. But that doesn't make him any less of a Caster."
She nodded. "So you hooked him up to a mana reactor and told him to go to town?"
"I hooked him up to a mana reactor and told him he had two and a third years," Toby confirmed.
Fuck. She should've known. Super-popular mobile games didn't just end.
"'Before what?' she asked with dread in her voice," Ko muttered.
"Before the siege of Chaldea, the bleaching of Earth, and the Lostbelts," Toby said, voice low. "With any luck, things can't get anywhere near as bad as they did in canon. But there's a reason I want him going for all two years and change, and don't want to pull Ozy away from that just for a Singularity, where he's gonna be operating at a third strength anyway."
"Wait, wait. So of the two Servants you've summoned, you're treating one as a dependent and the other as ballast? Toby…"
"What?" Toby interrupted, voice starting to get heated. "What do you want me to say, hm?"
"Abby, is it okay if I speak to Toby alone?"
Abby looked up from her game, and her face took on a somber cast as she looked to the game in her hands, then back to the two of them. "Of course," she said, putting the Switch down and starting to shuffle off the couch.
Ko and Toby shared a look, and for just a moment, were completely on the same page.
"Erm, Abby?" Toby said, a light touch on the girl's shoulder keeping her in place. "She meant 'is it okay if the two of us step outside to talk in private, and if you're okay being alone for a bit."
"Oh!" The girl swiftly nestled herself back into the corner of the sofa, knees close to her chest, and Switch perched on her knees. "I shall await you here, then!"
Toby didn't raise any objection to heading down the hall a fair ways; apparently letting Abby eavesdrop on him was a mistake he wasn't keen on making twice. Ko didn't have a destination in mind; at this hour of night most of the doors in this hallway were locked, she was going off instinct to decide where to stop.
Irritatingly, her instincts ended up insisting the cigarette vending machine was the perfect place to come to a halt. Briefly, she wondered if she shouldn't just grab a pack - it wasn't as though she had decades ahead of her to reap the consequences anyway, and she had first-hand knowledge now that there were worse ways to go.
"Okay," she said, as calmly as she could in the face of a growing worry she was about to ruin a friendship, "I didn't wanna hafta be the one to have this conversation, but you seriously need to stop with this hard man shit."
"Hard man sh- the fuck are you on about?"
"No, no, shut the fuck up," she said, putting her diaphragm into it to forestall a followup and holding up her index finger and thumb. "I don't give a shit how stressed out you are, there is no excuse for how you've been treating us. All of us - not least the Servants!" She shook her head, still a little incredulous even a week later. "Honest to god, I don't know where you found the balls to talk that way to Kyrielight back on day one - even if she couldn't crack your skull like an egg, she was the only shot we had at living through our first engagement, and you knew that better than anyone. Or you should've, at least."
"You think I don't know that?" Toby asked. "I'm not gonna make excuses, but if all you wanna do here is lecture me like I'm some dumb kid who pissed in your cheerios, then I'm not listening to this shit."
"You are erratic and you're going to get all of us killed if you-"
"I'm going to get us all killed? Me?" Toby let out a little hysterical giggle. "Specifically me? Not any of the dozens, hundreds of things that want to put a bullet or a spear or a spike into us? Me. Fuck you. Fuck you and your goddamn high horse."
She stared at him in disbelief. Gods save me from Gryffindors who think empathy is a feeling and not a skill.
"Your piss-poor attitude and inability to talk to our allies like a goddamn professional is astonishing. This is my astonished face, Toby, I don't know if you knew that." Now it was her turn to giggle in distress. "Like how am I better at this than you are? You went to fucking law school! They didn't teach you anything about how to finesse your colleagues?"
"Professional settings don't include guns and knives aimed at us, Ko."
"They fuckin' do in my family!" she snapped, desperately trying not to shake him. She jerked a thumb at her temple. "And even setting aside the ones who cursed me out and cut off contact with me when they found out I was marrying a Jewish guy, most of these bastards are telling me to leave everyone besides Dory in Chaldea the next time we hit a Singularity."
"Well maybe you should! Or at least leave me, that way I don't go and get you guys killed!" Toby roared at her.
She didn't respond 'Maybe'. It was difficult enough sorting out her thoughts from the ghosts of theirs without letting them have a line to her voicebox. If her mouth moved, it was going to be exclusively by either her will, or, possibly, in an increasingly-likely-looking turn of events, the gods'.
When she spoke again, it was to say something she'd been planning to say since she got back.
"We are probably going to die before this is over."
"Yeah," he said, matter-of-fact. "Probably most of us, yes." Toby leaned against the wall and sighed. "Odds are two of us, maybe three, get through everything. And given this?" He waved a hand in the vague direction of his right leg, currently holding none of his weight. "Take a guess who's our most likely redshirt, the first two don't count."
"And you're allowed to be pissed about that," she said, suppressing the urge to go off on a rant about how fights were more complicated than that and how considering the opponents they were up against and the Servants they were summoning a gammy leg wasn't likely to make a difference either way and he was just being a mopey bastard. "Spence and Indy sure as hell are. But this isn't a remake of an old game, or an op ed in the Post you disagree with - this is our lives now. When you get heated and work yourself into a lather? You're not contributing to the discussion, and you're not protecting yourself, even if it feels like you are. You're just dragging our deaths closer. And, frankly, making Abby's life harder."
Toby stilled, and then he glared. "If this is supposed to be about me, do not bring a kid into this."
She didn't bother to hold in her laughter. "Bitch you think I can bring her out of it?"
"No, fuck you Ko. There are things you don't do, and if you think I'm to just stand here and let-"
"Think, Toby-"
"- to play that fucking card to get what you-"
"For the love of god, Toby," she snapped, "think, for once in your life. She's a Calvinist girl from the 1600s. What kind of future has she been trained for, if any? Domestic service, farm work, maybe teaching Sunday school, and being a wife. And you know how you train a girl for that, back then? You make her accommodate her dad's temper and work around it to serve the household. That's what she's been doing since she got here: looking after you."
Toby didn't have a reply to that, at first. He just kept glaring at her like she'd kicked him in his bad leg. He tried for a deep breath, and it rattled as he inhaled.
"Do you think I didn't notice?" His voice was quiet and tense. "Yes I've been bad, but I'm not blind. Let's be honest, I've been a wreck. We wound up in a new place, with none of the familiarity of home, and in such a fashion that we had no control. Why do you think I wanted a catalyst? Changed the aria?"
"You wanted to live." She tried not to be envious, and failed.
"I wanted agency," Toby corrected. "A chance. Something that I, specifically, could do that would improve the situation. Some way to be more than just a, a passenger, but--!" He tapped his cane on the ground a few times, the motion almost shuddery. "Abby's a kid. This isn't fair to her, and… I… guess I'm just trying to do the best I can, even though I know it's not good enough."
"You're doing the best you can on your own," Ko emphasized. "But you aren't on your own. Like I realize that's hypocritical, for me of all people to say that, but you've really got to stop viewing the rest of us as assets to protect and start recognizing us as allies. Or is denying other people their agency the only way you can preserve yours?"
"That's not what I was trying to do and you know it," he said, though he did look away from her when he did. "But I had to do something. And this is one of those places where the knowledge to power conversion is pretty one-to-one, you know."
"Aw, c'mon," she said, trying to lighten the mood, "just 'cause you played a history titty game for teenagers you think you're the only one who brings something to the table here? Spence was raised to be congenial as fuck and to know essentially nothing about the past besides Bible stories - he's arguably equal to Ritsuka in terms of sheer compatibility."
"No, he's definitely not," Toby said. "None of us are. But I will agree he's the most likely to just get along with his Servant regardless of who they are."
"Indy's the most dangerous creature in any Nasuverse story," she persisted. "The regular dude who doesn't know anything."
"Only if narrative convention holds true," Toby corrected. "Yes, there's a very real chance it might, but-"
"And Dory is the most solution-focused person I know aside from maybe my mother," she concluded. "He's not afraid of hard work, physical or otherwise, and he's the only one of us with any real leadership experience - in meatspace, Mr globally-ranked healbot," she added dryly.
"You think those skills aren't applicable?" Toby snarked back. "Strip away the game, and most of what you do in raids is perfectly useful skills. It's just resource management, positioning, communication, and teamwork. The problem is, ya know. Needing to be able to do something. We were permanently out of mana in there, you know."
"And yet you still thought the only two Servants keeping us from dying were lame," she said with intentionally provocative lightness.
"Hey," he said defensively, "I'm happy to have had my preconceptions proven wrong, but those preconceptions did exist for a reason, you know. You gotta work with what you know, and what I knew was not flattering. The niche I knew Fionn to fill was 'the next best thing', how did you expect me to react?"
"Like someone who knows what story and gameplay segregation is?" she suggested with a very small smirk.
"No, I know that damn well. But let's be honest: I wasn't in the right state to be thinking, really." Toby shifted like he wanted to pace, but winced when he moved his bad leg and resumed his lean against the wall. "Now that we're back here and I can think it through? Gameplay offers a decent enough baseline, but what it doesn't give you is… all the most important stuff, sometimes. It doesn't tell you that Ozymandias needs a stationary base of operations to truly cut loose." He looked back towards the lounge, where they'd left Abigail to her game. Toby's head tilted in an odd way, and he frowned at something only he could hear. "And it hides that making Abby fight… kills who she is, a little bit at a time. Until you're left with barely more than an empty shell. But it's there, if you go looking. Between the lines."
"... you're right, you know," she said, when she was sure she knew how to put it. "She's just a kid. So're Kyrielight and Fujimaru. None of them should be taking care of anyone."
"She needs someone to take care of her instead," he murmured. "I can't give her that. I'm trying, but… fuck." Toby tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Just… fuck."
She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. She wasn't super-comfortable with physical affection, but it wasn't really a moment for words.
"The fuck am I supposed to do?" Toby asked. Ko got the feeling he wasn't speaking to her, but she answered anyway.
"You could relearn how to work in a group where grading individually isn't an option," she suggested, wondering if she'd left her hand in place too long. "We're not gonna evaporate just 'cause we're embarrassing you in front of your real friends, honey."
"I shouldn't have to tell you guys that you are my real friends," he grumbled, and she patted him before finally pulling away.
"Seriously, you gotta get out of the 'only I can get us the A' headspace," she told him, crossing her arms. "Indy went to an academically rigorous school, too, y'know. And I faked my way through the 'nice public high school' of eastern Ontario - we are all That Asshole, just in different flavours. The jokey joke shit is stress-management, you know that."
"I'm trying, alright?" Toby sighed. "But I can't promise results, you know that."
"I know. But I also know you couldn't do this alone even if you wanted to," she said bluntly, leaning against the cigarette machine. "Because I can't do it alone. And if I'm gonna die for this shithole planet that doesn't even like me, where my gods are apparently dead again, it's not going to be because you had a cunning plan ya didn't see fit to tell us about that fell apart upon contact with reality. We are a team, and you are not the Hero - you're the Lancer, maybe the Smart Guy on your best day."
Toby gave her the side-eye. "You know what? Given Lancers tend to be the crowd favorite? I'm gonna take that as a compliment."
"That's the spirit!" She grinned. "One can only hope you end up having better luck with women than they tend to."
"And lo, did good Murphy look down from up on high and smite this poor fool. You've jinxed me. How dare you. You monster." Toby's chuckle was a bit hollow, but at least he was smiling a tiny bit. "So. Any more strips you feel the need to tear out of my hide, or can we go make sure Abby has at least half a responsible adult in the room?"
"Pff, she's twelve. I was allowed to operate the stove on my own at her age." Ko paused, then started back in the direction of the lounge. "Actually considering she's your kid maybe we ought to-"
"Heeey," Toby cut in, matching her pace. "I'm not that bad in a kitchen."
"You ruined two cast iron skillets in a row!" Ko threw up her hands. "How did you not at least know not to do to the second what you did to the first one?"
"Ehehe…" Toby got all shifty-eyed, desperately looking at anything that wasn't her. "That, uh, presupposes that it was the same thing twice." Desperate for a way out of this one, he shuffled as quickly as he could to the door, and pressed the button to open it.
"Goodman?" The instant the door to the lounge slid open, both of them looked down at Abigail, who had perched herself directly in front of the door so that she could immediately show them the game console in her hands. "Why can I not photograph the Professor?"
She wasn't sure if Chaldea was oddly quiet for a high tech installation, or if her hearing was just sharper lately. Either way, she heard them talking long before she was around the corner of the hall leading to the rec room.
"No… no, no… well, maybe—oh, oof, no. Definitely not."
Well, she heard Toby talking, at least. Abby was apparently content to let him scroll through options until he found what he was looking for.
"Huh… how about this?"
"What is 'this'?"
"Well, every year, this one channel spends a week talking about sharks."
She spotted them the second she stepped into the room, Toby lolling against the arm of the couch, Abigail straight-backed and nearly vibrating with excitement, like she'd been told they were only going to McDonald's if she were good.
Toby didn't appear to have noticed, though he may just have been trying to set the kid at ease. "To be fair to the sharks," he went on, gesturing at the screen, "the hosts do fearmonger a bit; like, if you've ever encountered a lemon shark, the damn things act like puppies. Puppies with mouths full of chainsaw teeth, but puppies."
"And these... limon sharks, be they—?"
"Figuring out the parental controls?" Ko called, figuring it would be creepy to keep eavesdropping on the cuteness. Toby turned around first, probably because Abby had heard her coming the entire time (honestly how the hell had she gotten the drop on Medea? Toby was right, it shouldn't have happened). "Probably not a bad idea, wouldn't want her to stumble across The Thing at this hour of night."
"Mm? Oh hey, guess the insomniac gang's all here." Toby waved at the sofa with the remote in his hand. "Want a seat? We're gonna watch some Shark Week, unless that's too shark-y for ya, in which case we can always find something else?"
She cocked her head to the side consideringly. "I am in favour of ocean kittens, as a general rule," she said, bringing the boxes tucked under her right arm out into her hands with the smaller one on top. "But it just so happens that I asked for an advance on my salary today, and consequently, I have a little somethin' here for Miss Williams, if she's interested."
It had originally been just one big box, but Ko'd gone to the trouble of opening it up and separating out the parcels inside. Now, she had a box with a brand new, factory-fresh Nintendo Switch and its Game of the Year, courtesy of Adam Smith.
"It's a thank you gift," Ko explained, trying to keep the tone of her voice upbeat to ward off the awkwardness of giving an extravagant, unasked-for, possibly-unwanted gift to someone from another culture who was also a child. "Y'know, 'cause you saved all our lives."
Abigail looked up at her, and looking nearly as nervous as Ko currently felt, she reached up and took the larger box, with the console in it. She looked it over, scanning the pictures on its sides, the beginnings of a look of wonder setting her eyes aglow.
"'Tis a… game?" the girl guessed.
"Yeah, kinda," Ko shrugged, still hoping she didn't look to desperate for this to go well; kids always figured out she was weird before the adults and they didn't always react well to it. Last thing she needed was a girl with a tentacular taser at her disposal to be afraid of her.
"It's a way to play a bunch of games," she explained. "Some of them I've never heard of, but I got you a new version of one I've heard people say good things about." Well, technically she'd heard people get nostalgic over Pokemon Snap - 'Pokemon Shutterbug' could be a Mandela effect nightmare, for all she knew.
"Lemme see that real quick?" Toby asked, and Ko handed it over. He readjusted his glasses and started reading the back of the box. "Let's see here… okay… huh, we never got an equivalent game to this, did we?" With what had to be long practice, Toby used a nail to split open the plastic on the side of the game case where it opened, and quickly had the box open to retrieve the cartridge. "Here, now lemme help you get that set up, Abby."
Despite herself, she had to smile as she took Abby's now-empty spot on the couch. Fussy as an aunt Toby may've been, but in the short time Abby'd been with him, her body language had changed drastically; she didn't look like a constantly-coiled spring anymore, and was letting herself linger in the middle of rooms and hallways, rather than hugging the edges.
In short order, Toby had the device ready and Abby set up near a wall outlet while it charged. She was clearly reading something, her mouth sounding out the words as she read along, while Toby clearly strained to keep himself from backseat gaming.
"So why're you guys up?" Ko asked, to distract him. "Meds wear off in the night?"
"A little of that, a little of other stuff," Toby hedged, trying and failing to keep his eyes on Ko as he spoke instead of the screen in Abby's hands. "How about you? Guessing it's the meds on your end?"
She'd known her grandfather was a bombardier, but he'd died of lung cancer when she was pretty young. She hadn't known he'd been at Dresden. After that particular dream, brief though it was, she wouldn't have been surprised to find out even her father didn't know. She knew she sure as shit wasn't in the mood to talk about it yet.
It wasn't even the dream that was keeping her awake; it was the phantom craving for nicotine that came with it. She'd never smoked a day in her life.
"If you ever get a chance to lose a limb," she said, crossing her ankles on the coffee table, "I suggest you pass. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret it, this thing is inarguably better than having a meat hand, but…" She momentarily considered whether or not to bring up what an absolute pain in the ass navigating a bathroom or kitchen was with one hand, but ultimately decided to sum both up with an all-purpose "oof." Toby's imagination tended to run with any details presented to it, no need to distress the guy.
"I mean, I could've just asked da Vinci to take my leg and swap in a new one, but…" Toby shrugged. "It's my leg. There are not many like it anymore, because it's defective, but this one is mine."
"Totally get it." Clenching and unclenching her new hand into and out of a fist, she marveled, not for the first time, at how quiet it was. "Though apparently this is supposed to adapt to my arm so well that eventually neither it nor I will know the difference. Like, that's why they're not letting me summon for a bit, they're waiting for it to acclimate to my mana so it doesn't automatically bring me an Assassin every time I summon."
Toby frowned for a moment, and when his expression cleared, it was into a look of disbelief. "... Ko? Did you get da Vinci to slip in the Ezio Special?" he asked.
She grinned, and flicked her wrist elegantly backward, pointing her palm at the ceiling. Ka-shhnk! "Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't."
Abby looked up from her game briefly to see what made the noise, but hurriedly glanced away the moment her eyes landed on the slender gold-toned knife extending from the heel of the delicately-sculpted alabaster hand.
"Ko, there are children present," Toby chided.
"Yeah," she said as she retracted the stiletto back into her arm with a twitch, "and the one I'm talking to would also have requested a hidden blade in his artificial hand made by the actual factual Leonardo da-goddamn-Vinci."
"No I wouldn't have!" Toby said, crossing his arms. "I would've asked for a grappling hook and a flamethrower."
"I mean," she said speculatively, "she said I can cast with it, I'm sure I can approximate a flamethrower once I get some training."
"Gonna have to conceptualize it first," Toby said, immediately in problem-solving mode. "You're not gonna be able to cast a spell unless you can filter it through 'imaginary numbers' and somehow get the result that way. But yeah, c'mon," he added, shifting to more fully face her. "Show me the bells and whistles on that thing."
"Well obviously I went for a heating and a vibrate option, and it's food-safe of course," she listed. "And if I flex right I can telescope it down to half its width to slip out of handcuffs or whatever - oh, and I'm ambidextrous!" Not for the first time since getting the hand, Ko pulled out the two pens she'd been carrying in her uniform pocket and started writing her name with both hands on the discarded Switch box in two separate directions. "I suggested that one while I was too high to realize it wouldn't work but she did it anyway because she is the GOAT."
"They're… hang on," Toby interrupted himself, "are your hands uneven?"
"Yeah, the new one has longer digits," Ko said, lifting them up side by side so he could see them better, pale flesh and pale… whatever-the-fuck pseudo-ivory inlaid with gold vines and little blue flowers (a da Vinci, a fucking da Vinci - it might have been easier to calm down about it if several of the lingering echoes of her ancestors weren't equally eager to celebrate). "Had to put my foot down about that. La Maestra really didn't want to be directly responsible for blatant asymmetry."
Toby shuddered, fingers kneading his forehead. "Why, Ko? I can't unsee it now, darn you!"
"I did offer to lose the other one so she could even me out," Ko added, reveling in his unease, "but according to her I'm 'not funny.'"
"Please, at least tell me there was a good reason for my needing eye bleach!"
She beamed, and laced her fingers to stretch her arms above her head, flinching slightly as she abruptly realized she'd forgotten to go easy on her still-technically-injured arm. "I can barre chord now. Spent the rest of my advance on a Les Paul tobacco sunburst."
"Hmm… at least that's a reason. And a genuine Les Paul?" Toby asked, to which she mmhmm'd. "Okay, not a bad choice. More of a Fender fan myself, and still not sure you have your priorities straight, but sure. Okay then."
Ko rolled her eyes. "If Neil Armstrong deserved a Corvette, I deserve a guitar."
"Heh, guess so." Toby leaned back into the couch, sighing. "Maybe I should buy myself something good too. After having to put up with Slaver McLet-Me-Explain as a Servant, I probably deserve a little something."
"Oof." She winced. "Yeah, heard about that. Well, I mean," she elaborated, "I heard distant shouting and asked Indy who you summoned and put it together from there."
"Just shouting, huh?" Toby shrugged, sighing as he did. "Was definitely more than that, but I'm glad y'all didn't hear it. It was… bad."
"Lemme guess," she said, straight-faced. "He ended up trying to pull rank and got super condescending."
In answer, Toby raised a hand to show his Command Spells. Two were missing.
"One to get him to speak plainly. The other to make him wait his turn."
She flinched. 'Priorities'. Gods be good, how do you get in a fight with a pharaoh and it's genuinely difficult to tell which of you is the bigger asshole?
"Yeah," Toby went on, wincing for emphasis as he ticked off on his fingers. "Tried to use volume to get his point out over mine. Kept restating the same point, dumbing it down with each restatement. Interrupted me so he could circle right back until I actually addressed his argument and either conceded the point or offered a counter argument. Talked to me like I was an infant with no understanding of the world…" Toby trailed off. "You name it. And before you say it—"
"Compatibility summon!" Ko jazz-handed, finally unable to contain a smug grin.
"Damn it, don't remind me," Toby said in a huff. "Hopefully I won't even have to think about it for a while."
"Why, 'dja dust him?" she asked, less out of moral concern than curiosity. Certainly a part of her would be crushed to hear Ramses II was unsummoned before she could even meet the man, but it wasn't as though she could blame Toby for not wanting to keep the son of a bitch around. It would've been like expecting Spencer to work with Andrew Jackson.
"And waste a valuable resource?" Toby gave her a look like she was insane. "No! I just made sure we're using his abilities as optimally as possible."
Hah, optimization, take a shot.
"Yeah," she said consideringly, after conducting a mental review of everything she could remember about the man, "I guess he'd have to be a Caster, wouldn't he? Architectural feats, speaker to gods - Territory Creation A?" she guessed.
"Noble Phantasm as his Territory," Toby corrected. "He's stuck in the Rider class 'cause the Pharaoh's sun boat has too much conceptual oomph to overcome. But that doesn't make him any less of a Caster."
She nodded. "So you hooked him up to a mana reactor and told him to go to town?"
"I hooked him up to a mana reactor and told him he had two and a third years," Toby confirmed.
Fuck. She should've known. Super-popular mobile games didn't just end.
"'Before what?' she asked with dread in her voice," Ko muttered.
"Before the siege of Chaldea, the bleaching of Earth, and the Lostbelts," Toby said, voice low. "With any luck, things can't get anywhere near as bad as they did in canon. But there's a reason I want him going for all two years and change, and don't want to pull Ozy away from that just for a Singularity, where he's gonna be operating at a third strength anyway."
"Wait, wait. So of the two Servants you've summoned, you're treating one as a dependent and the other as ballast? Toby…"
"What?" Toby interrupted, voice starting to get heated. "What do you want me to say, hm?"
"Abby, is it okay if I speak to Toby alone?"
Abby looked up from her game, and her face took on a somber cast as she looked to the game in her hands, then back to the two of them. "Of course," she said, putting the Switch down and starting to shuffle off the couch.
Ko and Toby shared a look, and for just a moment, were completely on the same page.
"Erm, Abby?" Toby said, a light touch on the girl's shoulder keeping her in place. "She meant 'is it okay if the two of us step outside to talk in private, and if you're okay being alone for a bit."
"Oh!" The girl swiftly nestled herself back into the corner of the sofa, knees close to her chest, and Switch perched on her knees. "I shall await you here, then!"
Toby didn't raise any objection to heading down the hall a fair ways; apparently letting Abby eavesdrop on him was a mistake he wasn't keen on making twice. Ko didn't have a destination in mind; at this hour of night most of the doors in this hallway were locked, she was going off instinct to decide where to stop.
Irritatingly, her instincts ended up insisting the cigarette vending machine was the perfect place to come to a halt. Briefly, she wondered if she shouldn't just grab a pack - it wasn't as though she had decades ahead of her to reap the consequences anyway, and she had first-hand knowledge now that there were worse ways to go.
"Okay," she said, as calmly as she could in the face of a growing worry she was about to ruin a friendship, "I didn't wanna hafta be the one to have this conversation, but you seriously need to stop with this hard man shit."
"Hard man sh- the fuck are you on about?"
"No, no, shut the fuck up," she said, putting her diaphragm into it to forestall a followup and holding up her index finger and thumb. "I don't give a shit how stressed out you are, there is no excuse for how you've been treating us. All of us - not least the Servants!" She shook her head, still a little incredulous even a week later. "Honest to god, I don't know where you found the balls to talk that way to Kyrielight back on day one - even if she couldn't crack your skull like an egg, she was the only shot we had at living through our first engagement, and you knew that better than anyone. Or you should've, at least."
"You think I don't know that?" Toby asked. "I'm not gonna make excuses, but if all you wanna do here is lecture me like I'm some dumb kid who pissed in your cheerios, then I'm not listening to this shit."
"You are erratic and you're going to get all of us killed if you-"
"I'm going to get us all killed? Me?" Toby let out a little hysterical giggle. "Specifically me? Not any of the dozens, hundreds of things that want to put a bullet or a spear or a spike into us? Me. Fuck you. Fuck you and your goddamn high horse."
She stared at him in disbelief. Gods save me from Gryffindors who think empathy is a feeling and not a skill.
"Your piss-poor attitude and inability to talk to our allies like a goddamn professional is astonishing. This is my astonished face, Toby, I don't know if you knew that." Now it was her turn to giggle in distress. "Like how am I better at this than you are? You went to fucking law school! They didn't teach you anything about how to finesse your colleagues?"
"Professional settings don't include guns and knives aimed at us, Ko."
"They fuckin' do in my family!" she snapped, desperately trying not to shake him. She jerked a thumb at her temple. "And even setting aside the ones who cursed me out and cut off contact with me when they found out I was marrying a Jewish guy, most of these bastards are telling me to leave everyone besides Dory in Chaldea the next time we hit a Singularity."
"Well maybe you should! Or at least leave me, that way I don't go and get you guys killed!" Toby roared at her.
She didn't respond 'Maybe'. It was difficult enough sorting out her thoughts from the ghosts of theirs without letting them have a line to her voicebox. If her mouth moved, it was going to be exclusively by either her will, or, possibly, in an increasingly-likely-looking turn of events, the gods'.
When she spoke again, it was to say something she'd been planning to say since she got back.
"We are probably going to die before this is over."
"Yeah," he said, matter-of-fact. "Probably most of us, yes." Toby leaned against the wall and sighed. "Odds are two of us, maybe three, get through everything. And given this?" He waved a hand in the vague direction of his right leg, currently holding none of his weight. "Take a guess who's our most likely redshirt, the first two don't count."
"And you're allowed to be pissed about that," she said, suppressing the urge to go off on a rant about how fights were more complicated than that and how considering the opponents they were up against and the Servants they were summoning a gammy leg wasn't likely to make a difference either way and he was just being a mopey bastard. "Spence and Indy sure as hell are. But this isn't a remake of an old game, or an op ed in the Post you disagree with - this is our lives now. When you get heated and work yourself into a lather? You're not contributing to the discussion, and you're not protecting yourself, even if it feels like you are. You're just dragging our deaths closer. And, frankly, making Abby's life harder."
Toby stilled, and then he glared. "If this is supposed to be about me, do not bring a kid into this."
She didn't bother to hold in her laughter. "Bitch you think I can bring her out of it?"
"No, fuck you Ko. There are things you don't do, and if you think I'm to just stand here and let-"
"Think, Toby-"
"- to play that fucking card to get what you-"
"For the love of god, Toby," she snapped, "think, for once in your life. She's a Calvinist girl from the 1600s. What kind of future has she been trained for, if any? Domestic service, farm work, maybe teaching Sunday school, and being a wife. And you know how you train a girl for that, back then? You make her accommodate her dad's temper and work around it to serve the household. That's what she's been doing since she got here: looking after you."
Toby didn't have a reply to that, at first. He just kept glaring at her like she'd kicked him in his bad leg. He tried for a deep breath, and it rattled as he inhaled.
"Do you think I didn't notice?" His voice was quiet and tense. "Yes I've been bad, but I'm not blind. Let's be honest, I've been a wreck. We wound up in a new place, with none of the familiarity of home, and in such a fashion that we had no control. Why do you think I wanted a catalyst? Changed the aria?"
"You wanted to live." She tried not to be envious, and failed.
"I wanted agency," Toby corrected. "A chance. Something that I, specifically, could do that would improve the situation. Some way to be more than just a, a passenger, but--!" He tapped his cane on the ground a few times, the motion almost shuddery. "Abby's a kid. This isn't fair to her, and… I… guess I'm just trying to do the best I can, even though I know it's not good enough."
"You're doing the best you can on your own," Ko emphasized. "But you aren't on your own. Like I realize that's hypocritical, for me of all people to say that, but you've really got to stop viewing the rest of us as assets to protect and start recognizing us as allies. Or is denying other people their agency the only way you can preserve yours?"
"That's not what I was trying to do and you know it," he said, though he did look away from her when he did. "But I had to do something. And this is one of those places where the knowledge to power conversion is pretty one-to-one, you know."
"Aw, c'mon," she said, trying to lighten the mood, "just 'cause you played a history titty game for teenagers you think you're the only one who brings something to the table here? Spence was raised to be congenial as fuck and to know essentially nothing about the past besides Bible stories - he's arguably equal to Ritsuka in terms of sheer compatibility."
"No, he's definitely not," Toby said. "None of us are. But I will agree he's the most likely to just get along with his Servant regardless of who they are."
"Indy's the most dangerous creature in any Nasuverse story," she persisted. "The regular dude who doesn't know anything."
"Only if narrative convention holds true," Toby corrected. "Yes, there's a very real chance it might, but-"
"And Dory is the most solution-focused person I know aside from maybe my mother," she concluded. "He's not afraid of hard work, physical or otherwise, and he's the only one of us with any real leadership experience - in meatspace, Mr globally-ranked healbot," she added dryly.
"You think those skills aren't applicable?" Toby snarked back. "Strip away the game, and most of what you do in raids is perfectly useful skills. It's just resource management, positioning, communication, and teamwork. The problem is, ya know. Needing to be able to do something. We were permanently out of mana in there, you know."
"And yet you still thought the only two Servants keeping us from dying were lame," she said with intentionally provocative lightness.
"Hey," he said defensively, "I'm happy to have had my preconceptions proven wrong, but those preconceptions did exist for a reason, you know. You gotta work with what you know, and what I knew was not flattering. The niche I knew Fionn to fill was 'the next best thing', how did you expect me to react?"
"Like someone who knows what story and gameplay segregation is?" she suggested with a very small smirk.
"No, I know that damn well. But let's be honest: I wasn't in the right state to be thinking, really." Toby shifted like he wanted to pace, but winced when he moved his bad leg and resumed his lean against the wall. "Now that we're back here and I can think it through? Gameplay offers a decent enough baseline, but what it doesn't give you is… all the most important stuff, sometimes. It doesn't tell you that Ozymandias needs a stationary base of operations to truly cut loose." He looked back towards the lounge, where they'd left Abigail to her game. Toby's head tilted in an odd way, and he frowned at something only he could hear. "And it hides that making Abby fight… kills who she is, a little bit at a time. Until you're left with barely more than an empty shell. But it's there, if you go looking. Between the lines."
"... you're right, you know," she said, when she was sure she knew how to put it. "She's just a kid. So're Kyrielight and Fujimaru. None of them should be taking care of anyone."
"She needs someone to take care of her instead," he murmured. "I can't give her that. I'm trying, but… fuck." Toby tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Just… fuck."
She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. She wasn't super-comfortable with physical affection, but it wasn't really a moment for words.
"The fuck am I supposed to do?" Toby asked. Ko got the feeling he wasn't speaking to her, but she answered anyway.
"You could relearn how to work in a group where grading individually isn't an option," she suggested, wondering if she'd left her hand in place too long. "We're not gonna evaporate just 'cause we're embarrassing you in front of your real friends, honey."
"I shouldn't have to tell you guys that you are my real friends," he grumbled, and she patted him before finally pulling away.
"Seriously, you gotta get out of the 'only I can get us the A' headspace," she told him, crossing her arms. "Indy went to an academically rigorous school, too, y'know. And I faked my way through the 'nice public high school' of eastern Ontario - we are all That Asshole, just in different flavours. The jokey joke shit is stress-management, you know that."
"I'm trying, alright?" Toby sighed. "But I can't promise results, you know that."
"I know. But I also know you couldn't do this alone even if you wanted to," she said bluntly, leaning against the cigarette machine. "Because I can't do it alone. And if I'm gonna die for this shithole planet that doesn't even like me, where my gods are apparently dead again, it's not going to be because you had a cunning plan ya didn't see fit to tell us about that fell apart upon contact with reality. We are a team, and you are not the Hero - you're the Lancer, maybe the Smart Guy on your best day."
Toby gave her the side-eye. "You know what? Given Lancers tend to be the crowd favorite? I'm gonna take that as a compliment."
"That's the spirit!" She grinned. "One can only hope you end up having better luck with women than they tend to."
"And lo, did good Murphy look down from up on high and smite this poor fool. You've jinxed me. How dare you. You monster." Toby's chuckle was a bit hollow, but at least he was smiling a tiny bit. "So. Any more strips you feel the need to tear out of my hide, or can we go make sure Abby has at least half a responsible adult in the room?"
"Pff, she's twelve. I was allowed to operate the stove on my own at her age." Ko paused, then started back in the direction of the lounge. "Actually considering she's your kid maybe we ought to-"
"Heeey," Toby cut in, matching her pace. "I'm not that bad in a kitchen."
"You ruined two cast iron skillets in a row!" Ko threw up her hands. "How did you not at least know not to do to the second what you did to the first one?"
"Ehehe…" Toby got all shifty-eyed, desperately looking at anything that wasn't her. "That, uh, presupposes that it was the same thing twice." Desperate for a way out of this one, he shuffled as quickly as he could to the door, and pressed the button to open it.
"Goodman?" The instant the door to the lounge slid open, both of them looked down at Abigail, who had perched herself directly in front of the door so that she could immediately show them the game console in her hands. "Why can I not photograph the Professor?"
This week was originally supposed to be Chapter 11, but 1) this omake grew so far out of proportion that it became sort of Chapter 10.5 instead, and 2) we are all quite busy with stuff going on and need to rewrite decent segments of Chapter 11.
Therefore, expect Chapter 11 in 2 weeks.
Therefore, expect Chapter 11 in 2 weeks.
Mana Transfer Ritual 1 | Canon Rating: B
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Mana Transfer Ritual 1
Canonicity Rating: B
Jacob could feel the fuzz through his thoughts, though thankfully the cotton and conscious control conspicuously required for continued upright endeavors was not overly challenging as he created a new concoction.
Humming quietly to himself, he poured a fresh round, one part sour, one part sweet, two parts fire, three parts base, and a garnish.
Always a great rule of thumb for the likes of this.
The task of pouring drinks had been foisted upon him rather quickly after the first round of creations. He'd experimented for rounds one through three, but at this stage, he went with something familiar, no reason to complicate things.
The woman beamed up at him as he came back from the bar in the rec room. While Chaldea was not short on alcohols, they were rather tucked away and were of limited variety. At least until Smith had joined - there was now quite the range of available additives, bitters, and alcohols to choose from.
"What's this one?"
"Whiskey and chai tea with orange zest, honey, and a hint of mint." The bearded man said with a grin, setting the glass down in front of his newly summoned Servant.
"No name?" The voluptuous captain raised the glass and sniffed it, blue eyes sparkling as she looked at the artistic sprig of mint perched on the edge.
"I like to call it 'Fuck You, I Like it.' Clearly an amazing and unique name, what with my excellent nomenclature capabilities." Jacob said haughtily, managing to finish the sentence before the mask cracked and a toothy smile spread across his face.
"You'd better like it." She said, full lips turning up as she leaned forward, the tantalizing view being shoved at him and tone making it clear what she was actually talking about.
Making a wordless little sound, he could only smile, "No worries about that."
With a matching grin on her face, she raised the glass, and he obligingly clinked his to it.
Dark amber liquid sloshed before they both downed a good bit of their drinks. His balance threatened to go out on him as he tilted back, but he was able to catch himself before they both slammed their glasses to the table.
He'd made a game attempt to be professional, to get her up to speed on Chaldea and the situation, to sketch out a gameplan with her, and to gauge what she remembered from Okeanos.
But the conversation had swerved, and he had struggled to find himself minding too much.
Sustainability of economic sources, navigation in unknown spaces, the aggressive marketing and branding required to be a pirate.
Technically a privateer, but Drake herself found that thought funny. 'A fancy name for scum someone else finds useful enough to protect.'
To hear her talk about it was legitimately fascinating. At the start, when prodded about details and tales, her responses had been irritable, but the more he pressed her on the details and reasons behind her actions, the warmer she'd become.
He was also pleased to find out that she actually remembered a shocking amount of their time together in Okeanos.
"So," Drake started, breaking the warm silence that had settled over them, "I remember us talking, I remember you being blatantly interested, and I remember rather enjoying that thought, so why don't I remember getting to enjoy the night?"
"Because," he had to suppress a giggle, reaching out to lightly press a fingertip to her nose, "we were under a fair bit of a time crunch, and I was recovering from literally dying." His finger dropped down to rest on her pink lips, soft and full. "Something we admittedly don't have hanging over our heads any more…" There was just a hint of red to her cheeks, making him smile as he slid his finger along her lips, before softly patting her cheek.
"Later, though."
"You little shit-!" she half-laughed, pulled the man into a headlock. Hands flew about, shoving against her face and struggling to find leverage as the shorter woman dragged him nearly out of the bench for the grapple.
Jacob laughed, shoving at her face and twisting in her arms with a deftness borne of many wrestling matches with people with fifty pounds or more of muscle on him. Twisting in place, the man could only grin as he turned up to look at the smaller woman's face, reaching up to take a tight hold of her hair, turning her face down as he stretched up to place a brief, barely aimed kiss against her full, beautiful lips.
God they were soft and wonderful; there wasn't some romance novel spark or shock or 'connection', but he couldn't help but love the sensation, love the way she inhaled sharply at the contact.
He breathed in, the sharp smell of gunpowder and brine flooding his senses even as he pulled back, savoring the tiniest bit of squish to her lips.
Mid-withdrawal, barely an instant after parting, the tiniest hint of whimsy passed through his mind, and he dipped back in to catch the woman's upper lip between his, sucking it between his teeth to drag his teeth across the skin, enjoying the taste of salt and sulfur and the soft pop as it escaped the grasp of his lips.
His head had fallen atop the soft, warm mounds of her breasts, staring up at delightfully blue eyes.
Dragging his fingernails through her mass of pink hair, he scratched softly at her scalp, smiling like an absolute dumbass up at this amazing woman who had dragged him into such a grapple.
"So, my room is third on the left on the seventeenth floor from this level, are we headed that direction?"
Now her cheeks were definitely rosey, her lips twisting upwards and blue eyes sparkling. Her arm around his neck tightened briefly. "Ohhh? Going to cash in that raincheck?"
"Could just let it sit for a while and gather interest." He affected nonchalance badly, teasing even as his hands had refused to leave the tangle of her locks, instead continuing to softly scratch her scalp. Had the angle been better, he might've tried to give her a scalp massage, but he did not have the confidence to attempt such while drunk and reaching up.
"Tch, I don't like debts hanging over my head. Get up."
A storm rolled in, and the boughs of the tree shook.
Roots of brass and circuits, new buds of growth and bulbs of flowers just starting to bloom from the canopy that shielded the twisting trunk. Gnawed upon, a rot scoured, a deep hollow long grown over having been reopened.
The herald of the storm approached, a pink doe, the sun caught in her antlers, like strong, bony fingers had torn it from the sky. The winds rustling through the leaves and the thunder rolling.
Sniffing curiously, the deer approached the lone tree. Lowering her head, she searched the roots for grass and nuts.
A little squeak came from the hollow, emerald eyes set into a scaly face.
Tiny and scaly, the thing cautiously peeked out from the tree.
The doe stepped forward, curious, the thunder cracked and rumbled, only for the little thing to disappear from sight.
With a snort, she returned to perusing the roots for tidbits. Rain starting to fall, the soft sounds of it hitting the leaves, every drop that hit the burning ball caught in the doe's horns flashing into steam with a sizzle.
The little form popped back up from the hollow. Carefully, it crept out towards the fuzzy intruder into his domain. Raising her head and sending the flames licking, the doe took a step towards the small creature, which crouched but did not flee.
The deer approached, head reaching down, bringing the blaze close to the tree proper, and sniffed.
Stretching out his neck, the little thing sniffed back, their noses nearly touching.
A happy little squeak came from the smaller creature before it bounded forward, twining back and forth about the larger animal's legs.
With a small amused snuffle, the deer shook her head and moved towards the tree proper.
Inspecting the hollow as the captured sun's light glittered off the leaves and brass roots, the doe found it acceptable. Stepping into the shelter of the leaves from the rain that had begun to fall in earnest, and into the hollow of the trunk, laying down and curling up.
Moments later, the tiny dragon leapt onto the doe's back and began to knead and groom, basking in the warmth of the blaze.
The thunder rolled and rain began to fall upon the leaves in a soft pitter-patter.
Canonicity Rating: B
Jacob could feel the fuzz through his thoughts, though thankfully the cotton and conscious control conspicuously required for continued upright endeavors was not overly challenging as he created a new concoction.
Humming quietly to himself, he poured a fresh round, one part sour, one part sweet, two parts fire, three parts base, and a garnish.
Always a great rule of thumb for the likes of this.
The task of pouring drinks had been foisted upon him rather quickly after the first round of creations. He'd experimented for rounds one through three, but at this stage, he went with something familiar, no reason to complicate things.
The woman beamed up at him as he came back from the bar in the rec room. While Chaldea was not short on alcohols, they were rather tucked away and were of limited variety. At least until Smith had joined - there was now quite the range of available additives, bitters, and alcohols to choose from.
"What's this one?"
"Whiskey and chai tea with orange zest, honey, and a hint of mint." The bearded man said with a grin, setting the glass down in front of his newly summoned Servant.
"No name?" The voluptuous captain raised the glass and sniffed it, blue eyes sparkling as she looked at the artistic sprig of mint perched on the edge.
"I like to call it 'Fuck You, I Like it.' Clearly an amazing and unique name, what with my excellent nomenclature capabilities." Jacob said haughtily, managing to finish the sentence before the mask cracked and a toothy smile spread across his face.
"You'd better like it." She said, full lips turning up as she leaned forward, the tantalizing view being shoved at him and tone making it clear what she was actually talking about.
Making a wordless little sound, he could only smile, "No worries about that."
With a matching grin on her face, she raised the glass, and he obligingly clinked his to it.
Dark amber liquid sloshed before they both downed a good bit of their drinks. His balance threatened to go out on him as he tilted back, but he was able to catch himself before they both slammed their glasses to the table.
He'd made a game attempt to be professional, to get her up to speed on Chaldea and the situation, to sketch out a gameplan with her, and to gauge what she remembered from Okeanos.
But the conversation had swerved, and he had struggled to find himself minding too much.
Sustainability of economic sources, navigation in unknown spaces, the aggressive marketing and branding required to be a pirate.
Technically a privateer, but Drake herself found that thought funny. 'A fancy name for scum someone else finds useful enough to protect.'
To hear her talk about it was legitimately fascinating. At the start, when prodded about details and tales, her responses had been irritable, but the more he pressed her on the details and reasons behind her actions, the warmer she'd become.
He was also pleased to find out that she actually remembered a shocking amount of their time together in Okeanos.
"So," Drake started, breaking the warm silence that had settled over them, "I remember us talking, I remember you being blatantly interested, and I remember rather enjoying that thought, so why don't I remember getting to enjoy the night?"
"Because," he had to suppress a giggle, reaching out to lightly press a fingertip to her nose, "we were under a fair bit of a time crunch, and I was recovering from literally dying." His finger dropped down to rest on her pink lips, soft and full. "Something we admittedly don't have hanging over our heads any more…" There was just a hint of red to her cheeks, making him smile as he slid his finger along her lips, before softly patting her cheek.
"Later, though."
"You little shit-!" she half-laughed, pulled the man into a headlock. Hands flew about, shoving against her face and struggling to find leverage as the shorter woman dragged him nearly out of the bench for the grapple.
Jacob laughed, shoving at her face and twisting in her arms with a deftness borne of many wrestling matches with people with fifty pounds or more of muscle on him. Twisting in place, the man could only grin as he turned up to look at the smaller woman's face, reaching up to take a tight hold of her hair, turning her face down as he stretched up to place a brief, barely aimed kiss against her full, beautiful lips.
God they were soft and wonderful; there wasn't some romance novel spark or shock or 'connection', but he couldn't help but love the sensation, love the way she inhaled sharply at the contact.
He breathed in, the sharp smell of gunpowder and brine flooding his senses even as he pulled back, savoring the tiniest bit of squish to her lips.
Mid-withdrawal, barely an instant after parting, the tiniest hint of whimsy passed through his mind, and he dipped back in to catch the woman's upper lip between his, sucking it between his teeth to drag his teeth across the skin, enjoying the taste of salt and sulfur and the soft pop as it escaped the grasp of his lips.
His head had fallen atop the soft, warm mounds of her breasts, staring up at delightfully blue eyes.
Dragging his fingernails through her mass of pink hair, he scratched softly at her scalp, smiling like an absolute dumbass up at this amazing woman who had dragged him into such a grapple.
"So, my room is third on the left on the seventeenth floor from this level, are we headed that direction?"
Now her cheeks were definitely rosey, her lips twisting upwards and blue eyes sparkling. Her arm around his neck tightened briefly. "Ohhh? Going to cash in that raincheck?"
"Could just let it sit for a while and gather interest." He affected nonchalance badly, teasing even as his hands had refused to leave the tangle of her locks, instead continuing to softly scratch her scalp. Had the angle been better, he might've tried to give her a scalp massage, but he did not have the confidence to attempt such while drunk and reaching up.
"Tch, I don't like debts hanging over my head. Get up."
A storm rolled in, and the boughs of the tree shook.
Roots of brass and circuits, new buds of growth and bulbs of flowers just starting to bloom from the canopy that shielded the twisting trunk. Gnawed upon, a rot scoured, a deep hollow long grown over having been reopened.
The herald of the storm approached, a pink doe, the sun caught in her antlers, like strong, bony fingers had torn it from the sky. The winds rustling through the leaves and the thunder rolling.
Sniffing curiously, the deer approached the lone tree. Lowering her head, she searched the roots for grass and nuts.
A little squeak came from the hollow, emerald eyes set into a scaly face.
Tiny and scaly, the thing cautiously peeked out from the tree.
The doe stepped forward, curious, the thunder cracked and rumbled, only for the little thing to disappear from sight.
With a snort, she returned to perusing the roots for tidbits. Rain starting to fall, the soft sounds of it hitting the leaves, every drop that hit the burning ball caught in the doe's horns flashing into steam with a sizzle.
The little form popped back up from the hollow. Carefully, it crept out towards the fuzzy intruder into his domain. Raising her head and sending the flames licking, the doe took a step towards the small creature, which crouched but did not flee.
The deer approached, head reaching down, bringing the blaze close to the tree proper, and sniffed.
Stretching out his neck, the little thing sniffed back, their noses nearly touching.
A happy little squeak came from the smaller creature before it bounded forward, twining back and forth about the larger animal's legs.
With a small amused snuffle, the deer shook her head and moved towards the tree proper.
Inspecting the hollow as the captured sun's light glittered off the leaves and brass roots, the doe found it acceptable. Stepping into the shelter of the leaves from the rain that had begun to fall in earnest, and into the hollow of the trunk, laying down and curling up.
Moments later, the tiny dragon leapt onto the doe's back and began to knead and groom, basking in the warmth of the blaze.
The thunder rolled and rain began to fall upon the leaves in a soft pitter-patter.
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Snow Flurries | Chapter XI
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Snow Flurries | Chapter XI
Furiko
Not for the first time that week, Ko opened her bleary eyes a full two minutes before she actually heard the fighting, and promptly snuggled back under the duvet as deep as she could without suffocating.
"Mmmlargleblarp," Indy grumbled from above the covers, shuffling in a manner consistent with someone trying to fold a pillow around their ears. She could feel one of his fallen earplugs being crushed under her shoulder.
The spear-clashes were within earshot, now. With the mysterious self-discipline of laziness, she sank herself back into the timelessness of sleepstate, savouring her final moments of rest.
"-et her sleep, for pity's sake! The kitchen isn't even open yet-!"
There was a muffled thump, as if someone had gotten knocked into the sliding door keeping the hordes of Chaldea at bay. Said door then slid smoothly open.
"Up, girl. Or I'll get you up."
It was unfair how articulate her Servant was at Fuck You A.M. At the same time, she knew Scathach was not one to repeat herself. Honestly she was worse than Pru when- no, no, Ko didn't know a Prudence, and she certainly hadn't ever married one. Bad brain.
"Yes'm," Ko whimpered mournfully, swinging her legs out of bed and hauling herself up into a sitting position, trying to ignore the spots that swam in her vision as she stretched. "Jus' lemme get dressed…"
"Make it quick."
"Nnm?" Indy murmured sleepily, eyes still shut, frowning as he rolled over. With little more than a flick of her wrist, a glowing sigil detached from Scathach's finger and glided towards his forehead; the very moment it touched his brow, he collapsed soundlessly. The lucky bastard.
"... holy shit, shishou," Ko said, suddenly noticing the unconscious blond tucked under her teacher's other arm, his long hair dragging on the floor. "Is he okay?"
The Assassin's stoic silence was worse than any withering glare she could have imagined.
"Just asking, geez," she muttered, grabbing the opaque black leggings of the Chaldea Master uniform off the floor and stepping into them. "He's my Servant, 'm s'pposed to look after him."
"He is your Servant," Scathach agreed. "He is also resolved to repeat the same mistakes he's made with every other woman he's associated with and encourage you to squander your potential. Were I an enemy, he would be dead, and you defenseless. This will be addressed."
"Well that doesn't sound like cult indoctrination shit at all," Ko grumbled, straightening her sleep-mussed waves back into a proper ponytail and yanking on her sports bra. It was lucky she hadn't had much of a nudity taboo to begin with - or that she'd been the one to summon shishou and not Ritsuka; she didn't wanna think about how badly Kyrielight would've reacted to her not-quite-boyfriend being burst in on in various states of undress.
"There have been several cults associated with me, yes." Scathach tilted her head as Ko took a swig from her water bottle. "We will begin with a sprint to Simulation Room 4." A stopwatch slipped into her hand from seemingly nowhere. "You will be timed."
"I'm sure I will."
"Fail to arrive in under two minutes and I will invite Achilles of Phthia to sit in on the remainder of this morning's lessons."
Ko's eyes were suddenly much more awake than the rest of her.
"The fuckboy?!" she squawked.
The start button clicked.
Mash Kyrielight
"Come on, don't be like that," the energetic hero of the Trojan War said, an elbow on the wall as he leaned against it in front of the… other Jeanne that Senpai had summoned. "I'm just sayin', you should let me show you what the Simulators can do. There's plenty of fun we could get up to."
"You disgusting fuck," the Avenger spat. Black-red flames crackled to life around the Dragon Witch's hands. "You come near me and I'll burn you alive!"
Oh, she had been worried about the fake Jeanne ever since she'd come to Chaldea. Ever since they'd fought against her in Orleans, Mash had known the Servant wasn't a team player. But now, she was beginning to wonder if perhaps Doctor and da Vinci shouldn't have undone her summoning.
Achilles winked at the Alter, undaunted. "Sounds nostalgic," he said impishly.
A downwards toss of the cursed flame had him do a quick step backwards in order to prevent incineration by the Avenger's cursed flame.
"Now, hold on, little lady," he held his hands up - still empty of his spear. "We're all Servants here. Might as well get along, learn how to work with each other…"
"You're being annoying," the Avenger sneered. "Do you want me to strangle you to death?" Her golden eyes shone brightly even against the fluorescent lighting of Chaldea's halfway.
Achilles' grin only widened. "Your rage is beautiful," he began.
"U-um," Mash broke in, trying to salvage this situation. "I don't believe that Senpai-"
"Isn't here at the moment," Jeanne Alter dismissed her with a flame-wreathed wave of the hand. "This is between Servants, girl."
… and she was only a Demi-Servant. Mash's face fell at the implication. It was just - she'd been trying so hard - and it wasn't fair that she still didn't know who had contracted with her or what their Noble Phantasm actually was-
"Jeanne," the calm, wonderful voice of her Senpai behind her, sending shivers down her neck. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say to your senpai, was it?"
"What?!" Flinching at Senpai's words, Mash abruptly realized that both she and the Dragon Witch were mirroring each other.
"Mashu has been here since the very beginning," Senpai continued. "I wouldn't have survived Singularity F without her."
Keenly aware of the weight of the other two Servant's gaze, she couldn't help but sink inwards, hoping that her oversized hoodie would provide some modicum of protection. Senpai was being too modest as always. Mash had done well during the Singularity, but that was just what a Servant did. There wasn't any need to praise her - she didn't want Achilles or Jeanne to think she was full of herself.
It was a nice thing for him to say, though.
"Now Achilles," Senpai then addressed the Rider. "We are all here for the same reason, and that reason is to train. I think that the four of us will make a good team for the next Singularity, but learning to get along with each other has to include compromises from you, too. If your… ano, 'affections'... are not so appreciated, perhaps you can put them aside for the moment?"
"... hmph. Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is the man who hides one thing in his heart, and speaks another," the Greek hero proclaimed, arms crossed and jaw jutting out defiantly.
She wished she could wax poetic at the drop of a hat like that.
"Sure," Senpai nodded. "I just wonder what Patroclus might have to say about all this, is all," he finished innocently, crossing his arms.
Mash was already poised to step between them when she saw the flash of anger in Achilles' eye, but it softened after the green-haired man took a deep breath, and she relaxed.
"Ritsuka, Ritsuka, Ritsuka…" Achilles clapped a hand on Senpai's shoulder, and shook his head. "We've been over this, little bro. It's not cheating if it's a girl."
"Spoiled fruit," Jeanne sniffed.
Mash frowned. At least once a week, one of the Servants would say something like that - something about society that didn't sound right (that sounded downright infuriatingly absurd, if she was being honest), but that she didn't have any actual experience with. And what was she supposed to say? 'That's not what the books I've read say about the outside world I've never seen'?
"Good morning, child-man-" Mash was already moving to intercept the interloper before realizing who it was. Silently, she resolved to ask Furiko if her Assassin would kindly not sneak up on her Senpai in the future.
"-have need of your Servant, with your approval."
"Ah!" Senpai's expression brightened at the sight of the woman. "Scathach-sensei! Of course! What exactly did you have in mind?"
Scathach nodded at Achilles. "Ko has extended him an invitation to join us for her morning lesson."
"Oh~?" Achilles drew the syllable out, smirking as he pushed off the wall. "Well that'll be worth a look. Lead the way, lady Lancer!"
"My class is Assassin, as it happens."
"In a golden breastplate? You're kiddin'."
The dark woman's reply to the gregarious Rider was lost as she led the way towards the Chaldean Gym.
"Well, well. Congrats, kid," Jeanne mumbled with a smirk. "You've successfully solved your personnel problem by shoving it off on another Master. What happened to all that junk about having to get along with our teammates?"
"Jeanne Alter," Senpai stared her directly in the eye. "When Scathach-sensei and Achilles are done, probably in the afternoon, he will be rejoining us. Getting along with our teammates includes the other Masters as well. You accepted our contract - you do not have to like any of us. But you do need to be able to work with others."
"But-"
"Jeanne-chan has worked with many different Servants," Senpai cut her off. "Are you saying you can't?"
The Avenger went very, very red, and very, very still.
It served her right for questioning Senpai.
"... maybe Achilles with Heracles-kun, as a different team setup," Senpai mused, as Jeanne bit her lip. "It won't be as good against many different foes, but…"
Mash sighed. Managing the Servants without Senpai had been difficult enough during the last two Eleventh Hours; she didn't even want to think about having to wrangle their menagerie and all the other Masters' this weekend. Maybe she could convince Paisen (Boudica could snicker all she liked, it was a cute nickname) to remain in Chaldea to lend a hand.
industrious | Adam
"Is this concept really so foreign to you, young Adam?"
Seated in a very comfortable chair in the same conference room that the group was learning magic - magecraft - in, Adam furrowed his brow.
The way Adam saw it, he was currently the weakest link in their group, by far. Ritz was the strongest, obviously - a professional protagonist who'd presumably succeeded in his task. His friends all had some degree of intimate knowledge regarding the setting. While Toby was the real lore obsessive, Adam was well aware of the friction the man engineered pretty much wherever he went. Spence and Dory apparently had enough to get by, Ko a bit less, but they at least knew what the hell a 'Nasu' was. Given the nature of anime, it was probably some sort of extra secret uberweapon. Maybe a legendary historical Servant that only existed here. Possibly a giant robot. Probably all three at once.
But what really clinched his assessment were the heroic spirits that the others had summoned. It wasn't that Socrates was weak - Roman's little chat with Adam had made things quite clear on that point. Given the way some of the other mages (none of whom, apparently, could do the song-and-dance number to get a famous ghost for themselves) looked at his chiton-wearing Ruler, it almost felt like he was carrying the Football wherever he went. Nor was it that the Ruler was useless - his Socratic Method meant that nearly any skill or knowledge could be taught, given sufficient time and willingness to put up with a near-infinity of questions.
No, the chief issue Servant-wise had been that he was expressly forbidden from bringing the Gadfly of Athens into any of the remaining Singularities. And while Adam Smith had saved all of their lives during Okeanos - given who the others had gotten, Adam could reluctantly concede that the Caster of Kirkcaldy fell a bit short. Their impromptu drinking contest had been inspired, to be sure, but not every would-be foe was going to be as reasonable as Sir (Madame?) Francis Drake and her crew of rowdy pirates.
Given that their Miles O'Brien-equivalent (which was a compliment to both Leonardo - or was it Leonarda? - da Vinci and O'Brien both, dammit) had spent most of the past week trying to get as much power online as they could, going for a third at this point seemed unwise. In short, the others had knowledge of the setting and plot as well as credible offensive (or in Mash's case, defensive) Servants, while he had neither.
Of course, none of these were insurmountable. Eventually, he'd be able to summon again, but that wasn't where he could make up lost ground the most effectively. Okeanos had already - given Toby's reactions - gone off the rails. Reviving Ms. Hinako Akuta (Akuta Hinako?) was obviously a sequence break. With every passing day, the metaknowledge that Toby and the others held became less and less valuable.
So as his fiancee spent long, torturous hours performing shounen training with Sca-ha; while Dory tried his damnedest to match flirtations with Drake and indulge in his Simic tendencies; while Toby was off doing god knows what to a seemingly endless sequence of thermometers; while Spence caught Ada Lovelace up on Doctor Who and Star Trek; and while Ritz tried to keep Jeanne Alter from burning Jeanne Proper and all of Chaldea to ashes… he was going to learn the rules. Properly. Trying to use magic just by going from the media they'd all seen felt as useful as attempting to find Nash Equilibria from watching A Beautiful Mind.
"...you're right," Adam admitted at last, scratching at the wispy stubble on his chin. He'd need to shave soon - when he left it longer than a few days, he looked more like a teen trying to look twenty-one than his actual age. "It's… very unintuitive."
Socrates' nod was a prompt for elaboration.
"This 'Counter Force' is… an unconscious manifestation of the world," Adam drummed his fingers on the table. "That acts to protect the world from devastation. It is a subtle thing - most of the time - but larger expenditures of energy are known to happen; it's likely that our presence in this timeline is one of these expenditures."
"Indeed," Socrates leaned back in his own chair. "What about this is anathema to you?"
"It's too goddamn complicated," Adam grumbled. "It feels like… well, I feel like you could just invoke the anthropic principle."
"And what is that?"
Socrates probably knew what it was, the old fart. "We are alive and exist today," Adam recited. "And humanity hasn't destroyed itself. But if humanity had destroyed itself, we wouldn't be alive here today to ponder why we haven't destroyed ourselves. It's just…survivorship bias. By definition, we exist in a timeline where this class of events can't have happened."
"And your sudden appearance into this strange new world of magecraft?"
At that, Adam was forced to sigh. "... well, fuck, man. I believe in a near-infinite multiverse. It's an infinite monkeys problem."
Socrates didn't deign to answer.
"...If you have infinite monkeys seated at infinite typewriters with infinite supplies and infinite time, then at some point the Complete Works of William Shakespeare will be written. Somebody being one-in-a-million means that there are like six thousand people just like them on Earth... at least," Adam hastily added, "when it isn't, you know, blown up."
"And you take this infinite multiverse of yours on faith."
"On… a layman's understanding of quantum mechanics. Which, I admit, nobody can really understand, according to quantum physicists. Point."
The philosopher rubbed his lips together consideringly before he spoke again. "What gives you the most certainty, Adam?"
The Master blinked. That seemed like a non sequitur. "You mean-"
"What structure would make you most convinced of a proposition?"
"A proof," he answered immediately. "Putting pen to paper and making the equations dance until you have the answer in front of you." And because this was Socrates: "Yes, yes Godel's Incompleteness Theorem exists and math can't be complete and cannot be proveably consistent. But it's the best we've got."
Given the twinkle in his eyes, Socrates damn well knew why he'd said those last two sentences.
"Then I recommend you think things over, do your dance, and when we next meet, we can discuss this further."
Ah, between the Magic Circuit exercises and the proof assignments, it was almost like being back at school. Not that the graduate student minded. He'd spent nearly his entire life there.
Here, as in his programs, the path to success was fairly simple. Learn principles. Acquire data. Observe surface-level patterns. Build a model. Rigorously solve for the deep parameters. Profit.
"Now if you'll excuse me," Socrates got to his feet. "I have a chess game with Adam the Elder."
That… didn't seem right. He didn't know when chess became Westernized, so Smith could well have played it in life, but the ancient Greeks? Not a chance. "Do… you even play?"
"No," the Ruler said breezily. "But Smith believes it's important to stay mentally active in one's, ah… 'twilight years' is the term he used."
… weren't Servants technically already dead?
Eh, as long as they were happy.
Andoriol | Jacob
The happy glow he felt was unfazed by his Servant's declaration.
"You're kinda stupid."
"Probably, yeah."
The cannons thundered, and a line of tension flashed down his arm. Finding the feel of his Od flowing through his circuits, identifying the circuits, and getting used to the feel of them being on and off.
"You've already seen her fight."
"In the dark, panicky, and trying to keep an eye on an entire battlefield. And, unfortunately, the dream cycle with her isn't going to give me an idea of how she fights as a Servant. You? You fought basically the same alive and as a Servant. Which is absolutely ridiculous." Jacob shot a grin at his blond Servant before turning and pointing back at Drake. The captain had a ship flying high, raining fire down on the simulated golems, "But her? She didn't. If I'm gonna be able to intuit how she fights and think around and with it, I'm gonna have to see her have some fun."
Mordred snorted, lazing about on the nearby hill beside the man as they watched the Rider go to town.
"If it makes you feel any better, you get to beat stuff up in the next round too."
"Eh… two at once? You're not Ritsuka, boss."
It was his turn to snort, "I know. Kid's ridiculous. But I want to see how bad it is, see if it's an emergency situation sort of possibility. Fueling just you with that first wish was already a bit rough."
Green eyes rolled as he blew air out between his lips, disbelief clear, "Just don't cry when it hurts."
Jacob pointed at the Saber with a grin. "No promises."
Laughter rang out over the bond he had with Drake as the last of the simulated beings were defeated. The captain starting to head back towards them at a sedate pace.
"Safeties On." He muttered under his breath, switching metaphorical gears and his circuits off, twitching his finger before letting a grin to match hers cross his face. Then he shook his head and turned back to his first Servant, "Look, I'm gonna help out in the kitchen after this, anything you want to do after?"
"Eh?" Mordred smirked at him, "Not gonna try and shove your face back into her tits?"
"After getting smashed last night?" The hangover in the morning had not been pleasant, though other things had been. "No. Give things a chance to cool off and try that again tomorrow? Sure. But I mean, we've had, what, a day of actually being able to share the same physical space?" Stretching out a bit, he kicked Modred's boot. "We are physical people, and we've just been pen pals. It's weird. So, what do you wanna do?"
"... eh, if we can get the simulator again, could be nice to see if it'll let us drive around." The knight muttered, "Kinda want to give motorcycles a shot."
"Ahhh," Fran almost crooned, stretching in a way that did delightful things to her figure that Jacob had to actively ignore. "Always good to have a scrap, even if this wasn't all that much."
He grinned, pointing at her, "Good news is there's gonna be a round two."
She quirked her head at him adorably, "Eh?"
The burgeoning magic user tapped at the comband on his wrist, "Marcus? You got round two ready?"
The Spiritron Engineering technician's voice came through clearly, "You sure?"
"Yep. I'll say if things get too crazy."
"Alright, I'll spool things up."
The world shimmered as lights sparkled and more things began to appear, the simulation now adding werewolves and goblins to cover the ranges of options. "Right, to bring you up to date? We're gonna see how bad it goes trying to let you two go ham on this. Might have to cut it short if y'all are too much for me to handle, but we're gonna see how bad it is."
He had to catch himself twice there to avoid saying 'ladies', but he did it without a hitch and was proud of himself. Mordred's outfit sans armor was just unfair, he was a kid!
Francis Drake laughed, the Golden Hind once more appearing from nothing in the air, the action alone making parts of Jacob twinge. It was like a weight, both physical and on his soul. Someday, given some time and measurements he may be able to get a feel for how 'heavy' every usage was in units of prana, but that day was not today.
And then Mordred's armor manifested in a flash of red lightning, and it was like someone had dropped another metal sousaphone onto his shoulder to go along with the first.
Drake as-is was more like a fiberglass one that got upgraded to metal when she brought out the ship, sharper, digging in deeper, denser, and more of a burden, but also more clear and distinct.
The sails of the Golden Hind wruffled and snapped as its captain's will drew the canvas taut, wood creaking as the ship began to move, Drake leaping back to her ship.
The prince pointed his sword at Jacob, a taunting grin on his face.
Jacob pre-empted the Servant, pointing right back, "Still reserve the right to cry if you go too crazy."
That got a bark of laughter from the Saber, "Hah! All right! Watch this!"
Dirt exploded beside Jacob as Mordred launched off in a flash of red lightning, the charge alone making his arm twinge unpleasantly.
Which did not bode well.
"Hey, Marcus?" he muttered into the watchlike thing on his wrist. "Be ready to cut it. Doable so far but don't know if I'll hold up for the whole wave."
He did, but not by much. The weight and the slow burn had been building, a flash of cold and clammy had gone over his skin in a way he distinctly recognized as the beginnings of heatstroke at a final broadside from Drake. It'd only been a few minutes but it had been a rough few minutes.
The fact that neither had used their fully invoked Phantasms this time was a bit concerning.
'Okay, yeah, that is NOT an option for now.' Was the only thought he had, more than a hint of dread at the thought of reliving Clarent Blood Arthur.
"Safeties On." A soft muttering as the weight was lifted from his metaphorical shoulders.
The environment was dissolving into mostly blue white sparkles, and it was still very disconcerting to feel the ground recede away from his feet.
The doors to the simulator room appeared basically right behind him, as did the stark metal paneling of the room proper. He'd set up near the entrance for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was in case of emergency it'd be quick and easy to get him out of the place.
Exiting the simulation room, the trio found Spencer and Ada waiting patiently.
"Hey, how it be? What're you planning for the Simulator?"
"'Murder and mayhem await,'" Spencer said ominously, in a way that seemed quoted.
"We're going to try our hand at programming new scenarios for the simulator. As it resembles a 'holo-suite', we're going to see how far my own abilities as a servant can push the system," Ada clarified.
Jacob nodded, it was an interesting concept at very least.
"Is that not what I said?" Spencer asked. "Anyway, we've been reading through the manuals for this thing after binge watching a bunch of Star Trek, and the plan is to see if it's possible to program narrative triggers into the combat sims. I figure if we can do that, we can at least replicate a very immersive video game, if not a full holo-novel."
"The real issue is that the 'characters' we're limited to are enemies encountered by Chaldea. So most of what's available are various monsters, Romans, and the French," Ada explained.
"But you repeat yourself," Spencer quipped. "I mean, I guess we have pirates now too. And the system is theoretically capable of simming servants if at reduced capacity. With individual servants' permission we could use them as 'holo-actors.' Hey Ada? Remind me to appeal to Fionn's ego later."
"Oho? Theater you could interact with eh?" Drake grinned.
A similar look spread across Dory's face, though for different reasons, "Definitely keep me up to date, could be fun."
'Memo to me, look into how the Simulator works. Servants, even reduced… that might be useful somehow, or at least a good way to learn more about projection and tracing…'
"Oh I'm live-blogging the whole thing to ChaldeaNet," Spencer said. "Help me beat the algorithm by liking and subscribing to my channel. Don't forget to hit that bell icon to get notifications–"
Jacob swatted his friend in the shoulder, "Oh hush."
Spencer ignored him, "–and for $4.99 a month you can become a member of the channel and get bonuses."
While both of Jacob's Servants gave Spencer confused looks, Jacob himself just rolled his eyes with a sigh and looked to Ada, who had a wry smile. "Would you be so kind as to keep me up to date? It sounds very cool, and I'd be interested in seeing what y'all come up with."
"I can assure you, Master Jacob, the 'live-blogging' wasn't a joke. We're documenting everything on Chaldea's intranet," she said. "The thread Spencer opened already has a number of suggestions we're trying to explore today."
"Huh." No one had mentioned the facility's intranet had recreational forums. "I'll try to find it, then, when I've got a moment tonight. I'll poke y'all if I can't find it because I'm blind or somethin'." A glance at the watch confirmed that lunch time was rapidly approaching, "Right, I'm headed to the cafeteria, gonna help out there."
Parting ways with Spencer, his own Servants trailed behind him. Jacob had asked what he could do to help, what things needed to be done around Chaldea that he could do to make things easier on everyone else - aside from becoming a better tactician and remotely competent mage and try to keep his Servants or friends from going crazy in one form or another. And da Vinci had instead asked what he'd done. Call-center work wasn't very useful, but years of restaurant work had some use at least.
"Ehhh," Drake trailed off, "I'll see how badly you cock up cooking at least once."
"Hah! Horrors upon horrors I tell you! I shall summon monstrosities from beyond the pale with my ineptitude with the cookery!" He grinned through his dramatic display, walking backwards briefly and giving exaggerated finger guns at the end. "Should be good for a laugh."
"So long as it's not mashed potatoes." Mordred muttered.
Jacob blinked, dropping the facade. "Okay, that sounds like a story that I gotta hear."
The disowned royal waved a hand dismissively, looking away, "Eh, it's nothing crazy. Gawain just kept making crappy mash out of crap tubers."
"Don't let Ko hear you call them that." He said with a nod of his head, glancing at his map to make sure he was on track, "She will stand for the honor of potatoes every day of the week."
"Can you cook seal?"
That one brought Jacob up short, though years of marching band meant he was still moving backwards. He looked at the captain in confusion. "Wait… seal?"
"Yeah?" The pink haired woman managed to look confused at his own confusion, as if he had been the one to say something weird, "Wot about it?"
"Just a lil' surprised. From what I know it's a super high fat, blubbery but also gamey meat. Hard to cook right without stinking up the place… as well as to get the seasonings that would make it work in your time period?" He shrugged. "Like, I can try if we've got some, but I'd almost bet we don't."
"What'cha wagering?" The captain's look was far too innocent.
"Nothing, because I haven't seen the kitchen yet. Smug satisfaction will have to do."
A brief rapping of his knuckles on the frame of the opening to the kitchen was enough to get the attention of the Servant staff of the cafeteria.
Emiya's face was in its usual serious scowl. "Lunch starts in an hour."
"I figured." Jacob was well aware that work for lunch started at 10 at the latest. "I'm here to help. Been in restaurants for years. Is there anything in particular I can help with?"
"Dishes. Bussing tables. And running food." Emiya said simply, without so much as a moment's hesitation.
"Done." Jacob was already unbuttoning his sleeves. "Where's the aprons? And the dishpit? I'm still adjusting to my hands being numb so thanks in advance for bearing with me dropping anything."
"I'll show you where everything is," Boudica smiled warmly, "But don't push yourself too hard."
He'd worked so many years in the business that the motions came easily. Apron, pad, pen, wash the hands, confirm the locations of the line and ice and drinks and silverware and dishpit and the rough menu and move 'cause here comes everybody.
Took a brief moment to make a nametag with just 'Acting Waiter' on it. Name wasn't important at this stage.
There was a measure of frustration since the menu was primarily stuff he didn't know how to spell, what with the primary chefs being Emiya (who cooked almost exclusively asian dishes), and Boudica (who mostly baked and did some classically european dishes) and Beni-Enma (who was adding stuff to the list, but was also primarily an asian chef). That, and today was apparently 'Indian' themed. Regardless, it meant the menu was in flux on top of everything. It also didn't help that he wasn't used to the more cafeteria-based-model that they were using rather than a purely restaurant one, but that was just some awkwardness.
So a normal day in the restaurant business.
All that said, some things were definitely for the better.
The cafeteria was circular, with an equally-circular kitchen inside the ring of the counter. It was an interesting thing, way more 'modern art' than Jacob was used to dealing with - especially the 'drop down food storage', which meant the permanent square footage was devoted to equipment and cooking surfaces rather than refrigerators and freezers. All of that was stored in the ceiling above them. And the 'dishpit' wasn't actually a place where you had to wash dishes, but instead was a spot to set the silverware and plates where they were automatically and literally magically cleaned. Nice feature.
Whoever decided the tables should be a hard, eggshell white polymer was kinda an asshole. They thankfully wiped off reasonably easily, but the slightest bit of nastiness on them was blatantly obvious, but again, self-cleaning dishpit!
Most of the time was spent collecting trays and dishes, running special order food to the tables, and chatting with people. Drake had shot a salute his way before taking a walk about to explore Chaldea, intending to come back towards the end of the lunch period. Mordred decided to stick around and people watch, as well as chat with the various staff and other Servants.
Everyone was pleasant enough, though some were crankier or less friendly. Ritsuka came through during the rush, but it was too busy for Jacob to engage in anything more than small talk with the teen. He got the distinct impression that he'd interacted with The Public at some point, the ease Ritsuka was able to engage in empty conversation was… recognizable.
But people moved through the line, to the 'register', with special order stuff getting 'full service' of being run to the tables now that Jacob was around to handle it. Before 'The Duel', it'd only been Boudica and Emiya with a rotation of staff helping out, with them calling out names and order numbers.
"Graveyard shift for the next Eleventh Hour that it's in the Western Hemisphere?"
"You're seriously expecting me to take a bet that broad?"
"For an appropriately large reward?"
Jacob's hearing may not have been the best, but he knew how to pay attention to anything he could hear. He raised an eyebrow at the two staff as they brought their trays up to the line, both roughly middle aged and sadly some of the ones whose names he hadn't learned yet.
"No! You're crazy." The woman looked at Jacob, and he cursed, not knowing her name yet, "He's crazy."
"Generally you expect high returns on specific bets, not the other way around, yes." He agreed easily. "Though I don't know what you're talking about here?"
Their explanation was brief, but gave Jacob something to think about and mull over in the back of his mind while the lunch rush continued. Apparently the staff did meals in segments since they needed people in the command center at all times, and while the first round dialed down, Ko entered the cafeteria and collapsed into the seat nearest the door.
"Hey Ko, how are you holding up?" Jacob set down a big thing of bottled water in front of his red-faced, still sweaty friend, who immediately grabbed the closest bottle and chugged it.
Thirty seconds later, after she'd lowered it and taken a moment to pant in exhaustion and wipe her upper lip, she gasped, "No… talk… breathing," before shoving her mouth into the crook of her right arm and dissolving into a coughing fit.
"It's favouritism is what it is," Cu said, materializing in the seat across from her and shaking his head in disbelief. "I've never seen her go easy on anyone like that - hell, I didn't think she could!"
Ko didn't reply, didn't even glare; as soon as she finished coughing she crossed her arms on the table in front of her and buried her face in them.
Jacob laid a hand on his friend's shoulders and gently massaged them. He was going to have to wash his hands obviously before getting back to work, but things were starting to wind down for this shift, he could spend the time. "That good huh?"
Ko meowed mournfully into her forearms for a moment, before straightening up. "Protein, please."
Minutes later, he pushed the particularly meat-heavy tikka masala in front of her, and she started wolfing it down without a word, though with several delighted moans.
There was a shockingly sharp *thunk* as Scathach walked past, putting a bottle of… yogurt down in front of Ko as she moved by. "For the muscle burn. We resume in half an hour."
"'nk you." Ko burped quietly, and reached for a paper napkin to get some of the sauce off her chin.
Smiling as any other response was muffled by the continued shoveling, Jacob continued, "Well, if it'll make you feel better, we'll get a break it seems. There's supposed to be a subsingularity that we're going to soon that shouldn't be a panic session. It's basically the present. Like, the day before everything..." he gestured around and above them in a circular motion.
"... so like an Eleventh Hour?" Ko asked, after a particularly lengthy swallow.
"Yeah. You heard them talking about it before? Or is it a Nasu thing I've just never heard of?"
She shook her head, returning to her meal with a sigh. "Nope; it's an Adventure Zone thing you've never heard of."
A table away, a freckle-faced man in a lanyard threw down his fork. "Roman, you goddamn nerd," he muttered.
Jacob raised a curious brow at the other man before looking back to Ko. "Anything special I should know?"
"Well we already know what kills everyone and why the time loop is happening, so knock on wood you don't also have to overcome the temptation to go back in time and set right what once went wrong." Ko pulled the tab-top of the drinkable yogurt and sniffed it before taking an experimental sip. She made a face, and set it back down, making her companion grin.
He snapped his fingers mid sip of his own drink before putting it down, "I was actually wondering if I could sit in on some of your torture sessions. Haven't had a chance to ask your sensei yet."
"... well ya couldn't be worse company than Cu and Achilles," Ko mumbled. "Might be nice to have a sparring partner I could land non-pity hits on."
"At least you aren't stuck exclusively fighting a mhaistir," Cu muttered darkly. "She isn't even making you fight with live steel."
"My dad is not a god, senpai," Ko snapped. "I don't have Battle Continuation! And I am more than twice the age you were when you started with shishou! Let her take pity on an old biddy, why don'tcha."
"Well, I wouldn't say you were old…"
Jacob wisely stayed well out of that one, though he did wonder (yet again) what made the translation talisman decide which words to translate and which to leave alone.
Ko smirked. "Ya sure weren't shy about applying the word to her, though," she said, taking another sip of the yogurt as Cu's flirtatious smile faltered. "And within earshot, too - you're a braver man than I am. Not necessarily a smarter man, of course, but…"
"So, uh, I don't know her legends, I'm just gonna trust her as to how to treat the teacher." Jacob pointed at his friend, not mentioning the 'you're worse than I am about dangerous women' he was thinking about Cu, or that what little stuff he remembered about a Scathach from osmosis said she was a very scary lady.
"She told him if he'd kept in better shape he might've been summoned as a Lancer," Ko murmured, leaning confidentially toward Dory.
The Caster looked mournfully at the wooden staff resting against the table.
"She said she'd let me use her spear," he sighed. "If I could take it from her."
Jacob leaned back and asked Ko in the same tone, "Has he tried yet?"
She winced, and nodded. "I think it was supposed to be a solidarity thing. She wanted to equalize us by having us both experience that fuckin' carrot laughing at us."
"I've been laughed at before," Cu said, shrugging with almost-believable nonchalance. "She'll be starting you on runes once we get back."
"Oh thank the gods," Ko groaned in relief. "I don't have the knees for much more of this…"
"Whatever you do," Cu cautioned, "you're gonna wanna take it slow; don't try to impress her. A miscast rune is…" He shivered.
"Bad. I'm gonna guess it's bad," Jacob said drolly.
"Better she disappoint ár múinteoir than lose a hand showing off," came the response.
"Again," Jacob said with mock solemnity, one hand on his chest. Ko nodded, straight-faced.
Across from them, Cu stiffened as a shadow fell on the two Masters.
"You better take care of your new hand," Leonardo da Vinci warned with false cheer, sending a shiver down Jacob's spine. "I… dislike repeat work."
Ko straightened up indignantly. "I am not a hoodlum, Maestra," she said.
"Anymore," Jacob added with a grin, more than a little relieved she had no intentions to repeat the experience.
"This isn't just an objet d'art," she went on, ignoring him and waggling the fingers of her left hand, "it's a body part! You gave me back a piece of my life! I am not going back to navigating the bathroom one-handed unless it's an absolute emergency, you have my word."
"Excellent!" the Italian Caster beamed, a tray of bright red curry perfectly balanced in a hand. Primly, she took a forkful of the stuff, and placed it in her mouth.
Immediately, the usually composed and elegant Renaissance woman was as scarlet as her dress, all but choking on the spice.
Wordlessly, Ko passed her the rest of her yogurt.
"I thought you said this was the mild!" da Vinci wheezed, taking a large gulp from the bottle.
Blinking, Jacob looked at the chicken before meeting da Vinci's gaze again, saying apologetically, "... that is the mild."
"...I hate India," she moaned, tears watering at the corners of her eyes. "I hate it so much."
"Hey," Jacob leaned against the counter to peer into the kitchen proper. "I've been meaning to talk to Toby but haven't had the chance. Is there anything y'all want me to do before having a sit down with him?"
Emiya barely looked up. "Tell him to talk less and listen more. Would've solved most of his problems."
"Basically the plan." The bearded man shot a finger gun at the taller man. "Just gotta get him to internalize it." Dropping the exaggerated tone though he glanced between Emiya and Enma. "Seriously though, anything you need me to do before I go open that can of worms?"
When nothing else was immediately forthcoming, the cafeteria newbie picked up Toby's order and slipped out of the kitchen area. The bespectacled man was alone at the table, his usual shadow of Abby replaced by a much fuzzier one of Jamaica. Sitting at the edge of one of the cafeteria tables, he was running the little fuzzball through her paces, going through a variety of tricks.
Jacob slid the tikka masala down the table for it to stop in front of Toby, sliding into the seat beside him with a drink in hand. "Hey. How're you adjusting? Haven't had a chance to talk outside of the all professional-esque crap."
"M'fine. Keep losing my cane when I put it down, though," Toby said with a shrug, "so gotta work on that. Plus Abby's with Medea right now, so I'm ever-so-slightly worried what sort of diabetes leaving the two of them alone will produce." The bespectacled man brought a hand out from under the table, a hand which was swiftly followed by his dog's black-and-tan muzzle chasing his fingers with her tongue.
"Probably quite a bit of lace," Jacob said, taking a sip of his drink. "I know things are rough," he began. "They're looking up, though. I haven't smashed my fingers in anything yet today. And you haven't gotten anyone to scream at you–"
"Dory?" Toby cut him off. "I know you. If this is your attempt at leading into a serious talk, Ko already read me the riot act. Over a week ago. So if it's all the same to you, maybe pick a different horse to beat."
Jacob snorted. "Beat me to the punch." He hummed briefly; it was worth double checking with Ko what exactly she'd ripped into him about, but no reason to not take the chance to talk now. "Lighter topics, then. What've you been doing to relax? To my shock and horror they've got a freakin' foosball table in the rec room."
"Good question," Toby murmured, giving the dog on his lap a scratch behind her ears. "Since the gadfly got us started on magecraft, I've just been… I dunnmph dog, please, dog, c'mon," he shrugged, even as he tilted his head up so Jamaica's tongue missed his glasses. "Yes, good doggo, love ya girl. How about you?"
"Good. Mostly been surfing their internet backups. Though you got interrupted." Jacob extended his own hand towards the fluffy beast as an offering, which the aforementioned puppers took as a chance to scooch over and sniff at his knuckles.
And then sneeze.
"Oop, careful there girl!" Toby chuckled, tapping Jamaica on the nose. "Sorry about that, I swear she forgets how little she likes most spices in between tastes. What were we talking about?"
"Doing fun stuff, specifically what you've done other than magic."
"Oh. Well, uh…" Toby trailed off, fingers running through his dog's fur. "Not particularly much, to be honest. Which is…"
"Concerning?" He supplied.
"Yeah. Not great, now that I think about it."
"Well we probably want to do a thing together as…" The bearded of the two pasty brunettes paused, waving one hand as he searched for terminology, "I'd say Masters, but Mash should be included too… field team? Anyways. Team building shit. I've noticed they've got a decent selection of movies, games, and books in their internet backup. Haven't had a chance to actually peruse it yet, though."
"I'll join you next time you check out the game collection," Toby said, pulling off his glasses to wipe the dog slobber off the lenses. "Show you which games I think are appropriate for newcomers and which are, well, not. We've probably got a fair few non-gamers here, wouldn't want to demoralize them."
"Very true. Party games have their place after all." He kept his smile subdued, "Y'know, other than at the bottom of a garbage bin."
"I dare you to say that to Wii Sports," Toby said with a playful glare, distinguished from the non-playful version only by a barely-perceptible twinkle in his eye.
"Sorely tempted just 'cause you told me not to," he said, before putting a hand on his shoulder and saying mock-indulgently, "but I'll be nice."
"Wow, how magnanimous of you," Toby snarked back, brushing the hand off his shoulder with a half-grin. "Alright girl, lemme just…" Toby nudged the dog on his lap, who fought his attempts to scooch her to the side and wound up laying half-on half-off his lap instead. "Good enough, I guess. Anyway, gotta eat fast. Got PT with Doc Roman after lunch."
"And I'd better get back to the kitchen before Emiya scowls harder at me. Seriously though?" He stood and stretched briefly, gently nudging his friend. "Hope the PT goes well. Don't want you to be stuck in pain forever when there's literal magic to throw around. I'll reach out sometime tonight about when to look through the games."
"Sounds good. Now, run Forrest, run" Toby said with a shushing motion, only to chortle when Jamaica licked his fingers on the way back.
The rest of the lunch rush went smoothly, as smoothly as a first day with a new menu and numb fingers could go. He only dropped one drink from a tray when he didn't realize he couldn't feel his pinky. Saved the rest of it though, and it was only plastic.
"Oi oi, are we getting to see you fail at this or what?" Mordred chucked the empty cup at him with a grin when he and Drake were among the last handful of people in the cafeteria.
Successfully blocking and catching the thrown cup with the serving tray with only minimal bouncing, Jacob rolled his eyes. "Keep y'er britches on. Be about twenty more minutes to get this all put together."
Slipping back into the kitchen, Jacob automatically washed his hands on autopilot before slipping into the kitchen proper. "Down the line. Storage's called with 'cooler down' in the right spots, right?"
Emiya grunted, indicating with a tilt of his head. "From over there, yeah."
"Thanks, I'll clean up the cutting station and flat-top. Gonna make myself and the rough-housers somethin'." He paused, looking at Boudica and Emiya as he did, "The degreaser's with the other cleaning supplies, right?"
"Yup!" Boudica chirped, "On the deli side, in the closet near the fridge."
Smiling at the beautiful woman, Jacob thanked her and set to work. Calling down the food storage and riding it back up into the recessed section to peruse what they had properly. Lights snapped on in the rather cool area, which was just as cramped and stuffed with things as he was accustomed to. His breath fogged in the chill and he had to tense his core to keep the shiver from going through him.
'Right, right, some burger…? Oh gosh, this is 70/30? Oh, ew. No. I'll grind my own stuff before using that for burgers, it'd all evaporate away on that flattop.' Moving through the cooler and tucking things under his arm as he did, Jacob worked reasonably quickly in the unfamiliar space, 'Meat meat meat… right, there's some chuck steaks… ribs… ooh! Beef short ribs, english cut too! Be a hot sec but pretty sure I saw a cleaver, and with Emiya involved that thing is almost certainly sharp enough to do this faster than anything short of a proper grinder. Sadly, none of those in the kitchen but I can make do. Onions, good. Garlic, good. Tomatoes? Yup. Good. Lettuce…? Ooh, good, some heads of lettuce… ah, decent selection of cheeses too! That's good. Let's see… ah, gouda… gruyere! Beautiful.'
Returning to the kitchen proper as the Servants worked on the non-claimed areas, cleaning things up on their end, thankfully a quick wipe down of the cutting area and the flat top was all he really needed to do at this stage with before confirming the location of the knife block and carting his ingredients in.
First the chefs knife and the tomatoes. And was it not a delight to use a knife sharpened by an actual master? Jacob was going to ask for tips on how to get his this sharp because the way it slid through the fruit was just gorgeous. A few minutes later he had them in the toaster oven on a tray to dehydrate while he slapped together the rest.
Sharp knives also made getting the meat off the ribs and the gristle off the meat was easy, and the butchers knife was equally sharp and made mincing up the meat into burger a swift process. Honestly, the only reason it took him any time at all was the care he was taking with how little feedback he was getting from his hands. Thankfully, despite his worries, his hands still knew what to do, and he was getting some sensation other than the buzzing tingle. With that in a bowl he moved to the flattop, a good, shaped handful of the mixed meat squeezed into a tight ball. Brief pause to find the pepper and… ooh! French gray salt. Nice.
Assuming Mordred ate half as much as Artoria did, or a quarter as much as she memetically did, and that Drake ate an unreasonable amount as well?
'Yeah, let's go with twelve burger patties.'
Six pounds of burger was thrown onto the flattop to sizzle, squished flat, salted, and peppered something fierce before adding an equal number of piles of rapidly shredded gruyere to the flattop to melt into cheese crisps.
Only singed himself once when Beni-Enma asked a question about how he'd done the patties and his hand had missed the spatula when replying to her. Thankfully it was small, only the side of his right pinky, even as hot as the flattop was, and Boudica provided a bandaid for after he'd washed his hands. Beni Enma was nice enough to dice the onions for him as he dealt with that. First time he'd burnt himself in a kitchen in… god, 8 years? Boudica was sweet enough to help him get the bandaid on, thankfully. Two attempts when his fingers were too jittery and numb to just feel his way around using one hand on the other.
He was able to get back into things to flip the burgers, pepper them again, then move the cheese crisps on top of the burgers, as well as the graciously diced onions into the fat between them. Sadly, he didn't have time to chop up the garlic for compound butter, but when the burgers were done to a solid medium he moved them to the cutting board, and set the potato roll buns into the fat to toast.
Pulling the partially dried tomatoes out of the toaster oven, he was able to put together a platter of the burgers. Toasted bun, meat, cheese, onions, tomato, slice of lettuce, then very lightly condimented top bun. As well as insistence that yes, he would clean this all, but first, his own lunch.
"Hey! Look who finally decided to crawl out of the kitchen!" Mordred laughed.
"Hah! Yes. The evil was defeated with only minimal injuries." Three plates alongside the platter of cheeseburgers were set onto the cafeteria table, "Not quite my best work, but I would call it more than acceptable."
For all that Mordred gave him shit,Jacob was still happy that the prince's eyes sparkled at the sight of the burgers, and Drake was also intrigued.
He bowed briefly and jokingly before taking a seat himself, "May you enjoy~"
"Eh, let's see how bad you messed up." The blond managed to sass even while snatching one of them off the tray even before getting a plate.
Drake was little more refined, grabbing plate and burger at the same time and taking a bite before setting either down.
The happy little hum that escaped Mordred was a nice thing to hear, but Drake's little shiver and trill was particularly satisfying. Jacob sat down and was setting up while Mordred snatched a second burger off the platter even without fishing his first. Drake's eyes twinkled as she looked to him, "How much pepper did you use on these?"
"Yes." The burgeoning spellcaster said smugly before grinning. "Good pinch each, freshly cracked. Modern day has its perks."
Finally getting a chance to bite into his, he savored the crunch and variety of textures, as intended. The patties had a little less pink than he'd intended, and he missed the compound butter on the buns, but still, appropriately juicy with a nice sear on the outside–
"You said they were shaped."
"Mm?" Jacob swallowed, looking up at… well, over to the small self-summoned Servant. "Yes. There's a couple ways to do so, though the two best depend on the thickness you're aiming for. For thinner burgers, I find the smash system to work well as it increases surface area in contact with the surface for better browning. But the irregularities of taking an initial ball and smashing it can be problematic, exaggerated by greater amounts of ground meat. For thicker burgers, I find that a limited 'volcano' style shaping will give the burger a consistent thickness as the shrinking causes the divot to fill in, as well as maintaining structural integrity for larger burgers."
The adorable smol woman nodded, peering up at him. "May I try one?"
"Course." He agreed easily, snatching one of them for the cheeseburgers to pass it along to the clearly skilled chef.
Giving the thing an experimental squeeze and tilting her head, she sniffed it before taking a delicate bite.
Her eyebrows drew down before she swallowed, and Jacob didn't interrupt her, waiting for her to make her judgement. Auburn eyes opened up with an intensity to them after she had swallowed. "It's too salty."
Jacob nodded, accepting the little spike of disappointment. "Unsurprised, especially for a more asian palette."
Beni-Enma's beady eyes focused on him. "You could have used three quarters the amount of salt and gotten the same level of crust. Remember please - the simpler the food, the less room for error there is."
"That… hrm… gonna be hard." The man made a face in thought, having a ratio was good but consistency… raising the burned hand and waggling it. "I've measured by touch and I lost a lot of that."
"There is no shame in having an impediment, dechi," the small Saber lisped at him. Only then did Jacob realize the source of her peculiar way of speaking. "But passion and practice can overcome even great obstacles."
A warmth bloomed in his chest to hear that even as it squeezed at the discomfort at the thought of who might've done such to her. "True. I was more thinking in practical terms of how to get consistent amounts without requiring a measuring set. But I honestly appreciate the criticism." He finished warmly, bowing his head in recognition.
The child-like Servant bowed in return, and finished the rest of the burger in silence, chewing thoughtfully.before returning to the kitchen.
Unfortunately, Jacob's contracted Servants had not been idle during his brief chat. The plate of burgers was considerably more empty than it had been a few minutes ago. Jacob definitely wanted at least two, and both of his contracted Servants were well into at least their third–
"Dory!" A slightly disheveled Indy set his tray down at the only free chair at their tab, his precarious mound of tikka masala nearly collapsing out of his plate. The two Servants looked up from stuffing their faces, Drake quirking an eyebrow.
"I am a Dory, yes." He said with a cheeky grin before it softened. "What'cha need?"
"The Counter Force," Adam said, pointing a fork at the other man. To his left, Mordred stiffened. "Does it exist, and how can you tell?"
"It almost definitely exists. It only manifests in two, kinda sorta three ways. The most basic is what was covered before, the whole 'barely noticeable minimum interference butterfly effect' sort of stuff. Basically impossible to tell without viewing timelines. Next level is basically stuff like one of our chefs, Emiya - the guy in red-"
"HE HAS A NAME?!" Mordred erupted. Several of the other staff were now looking in their direction.
Jacob froze, blinking a few times before muttering, "... should'n a' tol' ya that. Definitely in trouble for that. Anyways, he's a Counter Guardian, a heroic spirit-esque being that pretty much nukes the place as necessary. That's only barely an exaggeration, if at all; Pompei is explicitly an example of their handiwork."
"Okay Hagrid," Indy said around a mouthful of rice. "But how do you know that it was the Counter Force responsible for those things?"
"Someone who totally hates the stuff has told us? Like, in seriousness, I don't know how they confirmed stuff. Like…" Jacob sighed in frustration, waving the burger briefly. "Things tend to go really, really wrong for people that act against the interests of the world or humanity as a whole. Pompei involved dangerous research of whose nature I don't know specifically. And it's explicitly a force that can be contracted with for power. You'd have to ask Emiya for specifics - and that's not gonna be a fun convo, fair warning."
"I say ya just shut up about this whole thing," Mordred elbowed the darker skinned man in the ribs. "Unless you wanna get whacked too."
Indy started to give the prince a dirty look before abruptly thinking better of it. He made a non-committal noise instead, and dug further into his beef-rice mixture.
"Indy, look at me." Jacob met his gaze hard, barely blinking. "I am not joking about the nuke stuff. Please don't poke the bear here. The Tunguska event is probably another example of the Counter Force hitting its Godzilla threshold. Godzilla is exactly the kind of thing that constitutes a non-butterfly-effect version of the Counter-Force."
Indy looked away first, but the man was clearly not impressed of the seriousness of this. "... right," he said. "Sure. So-"
"Please don't make me console the Ko after cleaning up the mincemeat that was your face Indy."
That remark got him a forkful of rice to the face. "That is a low blow, man," Indy said through gritted teeth. "But- if it has all the properties that you people attribute to it, then my presence - and curiosity - is also accounted for. So don't worry."
Jacob had to catch himself to keep from smacking the man in the arm or snapping at him. He'd clearly hit a reverse-psychology gate with that one, and yelling would not solve the problem.
"I'm not," Mordred said cheerfully, and stole a scoop of the man's lunch. "You wanna kill yourself, that's on you."
Indy let out a long sigh. "In any case," he said, enunciating. "How's your day been?"
A frustrated exhalation came from Jacob as he shook his head, thinking desperately before saying somewhat lightly, "Mostly good, aside from possibly accidentally reverse psychology-ing one of my best friends into getting himself killed." Pointing at Mordred with his burger, he added, "He may not care whether you die, but I do. Just please be safe. There's probably better uses of your brain than beating your head against the Counter Force."
"Not according to Socrates," the man muttered.
"He'd also consider questioning whether a pencil is a pencil a fair use of your brain." Jacob pointed out before taking another bite of his burger.
"Yes, but how often have you failed to activate your Circuits?" Indy countered. "He doesn't do things without a good reason. Probably. And I don't think he's the type to subtly kill his summoner."
"Mm." Swallowing, the paler of the pair nodded, "Fair. Just want you to be safe is all. 'Cause you know Socrates will keep poking a thing he's curious about until it literally kills him. I don't want you to get caught up in that."
Indy burst out laughing - which posed a problem given he still had some rice in his mouth. Waving off Jacob's attempt to help, when his throat was clear, the other Master spread his hands helplessly. "A bit late for that, man."
"Yeah yeah, just don't drink the poison please?"
Indy's salute flowed into a middle finger.
'Well…' Jacob restrained the frustrated sigh, 'Did what I could.'
It wasn't much later that Jacob was cleaning up. Sleeves rolled up, scraper in hand, rag in the other, Jacob discovered the first good thing about the od depletion.
Degreaser getting onto his cut didn't hurt to high heavens.
Ko
"Ooh," Indy said, glancing up with a little smile as she walked in before turning back to the desk. "Issa Ko."
Though their room had been spotless when she'd gotten out of bed, her fiance was now surrounded by papers, as was his wont. Crumpled balls of notebook paper around the chair of the desk. Printed out sheaves of computer paper, neatly stapled together. And tucked into a corner of the desk was the small stack of loose leaf he was currently occupied with, along with a bewildering assortment of pens, pencils, and erasers.
None of that was important, though. She took all of two steps into their room before collapsing onto the bed with a grunt, too exhausted to even reach for the pillow five inches north of her head.
"Another long day?" Indy inquired, mechanical pencil still scratching.
"Shishou tied Fionn to a tree surrounded by a ring of fire at the end of an obstacle course," she said, her voice muffled even in her own hearing by the pillowy softness of their duvet. "She didn't let me break for lunch until I managed to 'save the damsel' in under five minutes. Burned a command seal to wake him up so he could save himself, but that just made everything worse, if you can believe it."
"...Ah." She heard the smile in that syllable. She heard it.
There was a brief pause, and she could hear him shuffle in his seat.
"Um, dear?" Indy's voice was uncertain. "You… know that she's your Servant, right? Like, if it's too much or it's not okay, you can - or I can, somehow, I guess - t-talk to her or…."
She lifted her head in surprise. "Are you nuts? I fucking love that crazy bitch. This is the happiest I've been since Montreal."
"... Not DC?"
He sounded hurt. Damn it, she should've known he'd take it wrong.
"It's a different kind of happiness, lovely," she said softly. "It's self-generated, you can't get it from another person."
"She may be dead but I'm pretty sure your instructor counts as a person, dear."
She rolled her eyes. "She's not where the feeling comes from, she's just… helping me draw it out." Ko paused. "Or is this your roundabout way of asking if the woman who literally reminds me of my mother is my type?"
Indy sighed, and muttered something like "not touching that."
"...Well," he said at a proper volume. "Happiness isn't the only thing that needs to get drawn out of you." There was a muffled thump as he threw a small sack onto the bed beside her. "Epsom salts, and unlimited hot water in the bathroom. The TENS unit is fully charged and waiting on the nightstand once you're done in there."
"I love yooooooou," she declared into the duvet, rolling over and stretching like a decadent cat.
"Huge if true," he replied. "But you're no good to me dead, woman."
"'m just gonna lie here for a sec," she sighed. "When I can stand up again without hating myself I'll go run a bath."
"Do you want me to-?"
"No! Wait! Come back!" she heard Emiya's voice echo through the hallway, along with the rapid pitterpatter of tiny adorable feets.
Craning her head to the side, she was just barely able to see the Queen of Chaldea herself scamper into their room, barking happily all the while.
"Ahhhh!" Indy shared her opinion of the doggo. "Hey 'Maica! How're you- no no no doggie no!"
Ko sat up in alarm. Jamaica, with a pure joy known only to the canine world, had dive-bombed Indy's carefully curated mess of papers, and was currently, ass in the air and/or Indy's face, chewing on his most recent work.
"Maica," Ko made frantic kiss-kiss noises and snapped her fingers. "Maica, come!"
Panting, Emiya finally reached their doorframe. "She slipped her leash," he said, when he'd gotten his breath back. "Sorry. Don't tell the loud one-" He froze.
Pieces of confetti continued to drift to the ground.
Emiya emitted a very quiet 'shimatta'. "Ziegler-"
"-Eureka!" Indy shouted at the top of his lungs. "Wait wait no ow ow ow stop off off fuck fuck Ýfesi! Ýfesi!"
And then he was off, sprinting down the corridor towards Socrates' room.
"... what the fuck just happened?" Ko asked.
Emiya shrugged, hands held up helplessly. "You're the one who agreed to marry him, not me."
Bennett | Toby
The Next Day
The Eleventh Hour. What a fuckin' concept, Bennett thought to himself as he (mostly tried to) read the monitors in front of him. He knew already that micro-singularities had a way of popping up in myriad spots, and that Chaldea could detect them during their admittedly-short lifespans. But this? This was something brand spanking new, for which he really had no frame of reference yet.
He'd only really gotten the basics: the Eleventh Hour would show up in a location and recreate the last full day before Goetia incinerated humanity, always beginning at 11:00pm, GMT+3. Twenty-four hours later, once the clock returned to 11pm GMT+3, Goetia's ring of light would begin forming in the sky.
One hour after that, at midnight GMT+3, and a total of 25 hours later, Proper Human History would be incinerated, and they had best not still be in the Eleventh Hour when that happened.
Rayshifts would always arrive at T-minus 25 hours, regardless of any attempts to appear sooner or later. The micro-singularity always appeared in a relatively populous city, and showed up every three weeks or so. The internet still existed there, objects could be procured and brought back from the micro-singularity, and actual living breathing humans could be interacted with.
The Command Room was in a flurry of activity - not out of mission related stress, but because bets were flying all across the room under Roman's disappointed not-quite-a-stare.
Da Vinci, of course, had appointed herself bookie. And Ching Shih appeared beside her a moment later, handing out scrips and IOU's to make note of everybody's wagers.
"Saturdays for GMT+4!"
"Sunday morning for Barcelona!"
"-more pens-!"
"Last two were in Asia, and it was Paris before that - we're due somewhere more Western!"
"What about Paris!?"
"Ça ne compte pas!"
"Fuck off, Yolande, you're just mad that they only picked up MREs there!"
"Va t'en, connard!"
Roman sighed, white-gloved fingertips pressed against his forehead. "Everyone submitted their lists after last time," he reminded them all. "So there shouldn't-"
"I said we need more pens, damn it!"
Toby did a double take. "Wait, so this is a regular supply run?" At Roman's nod, he raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't we get to submit lists for this? And why am I only hearing about this just now?"
Ada Lovelace took that as an opportunity to materialize. "There's been a pinned memo on Chaldeanet this entire time," she chimed in. "And several Masters have submitted lists."
"... oh," he said, feeling a bit sheepish. Perhaps his fear of read receipts was getting to him a bit much, to have not even looked. "Uh… who all has submitted lists? So I know who else is getting a mark of shame on their user account?"
The Command Room door opened once again, and Ritsuka walked in - dressed not in the usual Chaldea uniform or even the plugsuit, but a blue Hawaiian print shirt and camo cargo pants, with a pair of sunglasses nestled atop his head.
"Everybody, please listen up!" Ritsuka clapped his hands three times, and miraculously, the din of the room quieted down until it was little more than a couple of whispers.
"...wish I could do that…" Bennett heard Roman mutter under his breath.
"We'll find out where the Eleventh Hour is momentarily, and then you'll get about thirty minutes to amend your lists, okay? Don't make too many changes, and please don't ask for anything particularly rare, expensive, or hard to find. And no, we are not stealing the Moon Rover if it shows up in Cape Canaveral, Zorro." Ritsuka's voice turned lightly chiding at the end there, and he managed to elicit a surprising amount of chuckles.
"And once again people," Roman broke in. "Our first Eleventh Hour allowed us to copy the World Wide Web as of 2 hours before the end of the world. We aren't getting any more adult material, so stop putting it on your lists. If it isn't in the archive, I don't know what to tell you."
The room echoed with scattered amounts of nervous chuckling.
Da Vinci turned towards Bennett. "Jacob is getting tea, but where are the other Masters?"
"Well nobody's seen Hinako in the last week," he started, "but all the others? They should be—"
"Sorry we're late!" Indy and Ko shuffled in, both of them out of breath. The former's button-down shirt was one button skewed. "We were, ah-"
"We don't want to hear it." Hinako muttered from her position between Bennett and da Vinci, and a quick glance showed him that she still hadn't looked up from that book of hers.
… hold up just a goddamn minute when the FUCK—
"Lord Yu will be joining you shortly," she continued. "He required assistance in procuring... appropriate clothing."
"I don't even want to know," Bennett said, and even he wasn't sure what he was saying that about. Come to think of it… Ritsuka had come alone. "Actually, hold up. Fujimaru, is Mash not going with us?"
"A-ah, well…" Ritsuka rubbed at the back of his head in embarrassment. "We don't know why, but for some reason Mash can't Rayshift to the Eleventh Hour."
"... huh?" Bennett asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We've tried," da Vinci took over from there. "Three times now. Each time, Mash's Coffin has failed to initialize the Rayshift. We've tried different Coffins, subsequent Rayshifts, having Mash be the first Rayshift… nothing has worked."
"Did you try turning it off and on again?" Spencer asked, calmly closing the door behind him holding a transparent plastic cup with an iced coffee in it, and garnering a glare from da Vinci in the process. "Hey, I had to ask!"
"Our working hypothesis is that the Eleventh Hour is a fundamentally different type of Singularity, neither caused by a Grail nor a remnant of one," Roman ran a hand nervously through his hair. "However, there have been no enemy Servants or Phantasmal Beasts present in any of the prior Eleventh Hours - we're going to be sending you without Servants, so we can transport more material."
"But Xiang Yu's coming?" Indy asked quizzically. "He's-"
"Not an issue," Hinako stated.
"But—"
"Indy?" Bennett interrupted, shaking his head subtly. "Just roll with it. Trust me on this one, just… roll with it." He had a feeling as to why Xiang Yu was an exception, but he wasn't going to be the one to say it.
"No really, but—"
A frantic beeping at one of the stations, followed by the technician manning it standing up, drew everybody's attention. "We've got a lock on the Eleventh Hour! Bringing it up on the monitors!"
All of the screens in the Command Room flipped to a world map. Moments later, it zoomed in on the Americas, to the groaning of most of the staff in the room. A pen was even flicked at the globe, disappearing within the hologram.
"Booo!"
"Take it back! I want a do-over!"
"Fuck, there goes my Saturdays for the next month…."
Despite the myriad protests, the map continued to zoom in, narrowing down on the American South. A dot appeared on the map, and moments later, a map of the United States overlaid the generic image of the world.
"And our final answer is... New Orleans!" Da Vinci chimed in, and at that, the various Francophone members began pelting the screen with more writing utensils. Off to the side, Ada Lovelace gave a silent little cheer, and collected her winnings off of Ching Shih.
"How the fuck did you manage that!?" One of the staff, whose name Bennett hadn't yet gotten a chance to learn (translation: hadn't bothered to try and learn) asked.
Ada waved a hand at the board with a small smile. "Oh, it was all up there, if you knew where to look."
"Damn it! Bloody Servants…"
"Wonder why everyone's booing so hard," Bennett muttered. "I lived there for four years, it's really not that bad; the food is to die for, and all I had to do to not get robbed ever was put on some Saints merch."
Spence opened his mouth, but anything the man might have said was drowned out by the bombastic entrance of the scariest, friendliest Rider Bennett had ever had the (dis)pleasure of meeting.
"I am now presentable to the people of twenty-eighteen!" exclaimed a very large man in a very large Hawaiian shirt and clashing camo cargo pants. Unlike Ritsuka, this only changed him from "Conan the Barbarian" to "Miami Bouncer/Hitman."
"Leave the jian at home, my lord," Hinako stated idly.
"I would not dare do otherwise, my beloved!" Xiang Yu bellowed, even as he discreetly slid the scabbard out of his shirt.
"...And by the way." Bennett tried (and failed) to suppress the flinch when Hinako murmured almost directly into his ear. "Since you lived there, you shall help Lord Yu pick out what to bring back for me."
.... well, fuck.
Furiko
Not for the first time that week, Ko opened her bleary eyes a full two minutes before she actually heard the fighting, and promptly snuggled back under the duvet as deep as she could without suffocating.
"Mmmlargleblarp," Indy grumbled from above the covers, shuffling in a manner consistent with someone trying to fold a pillow around their ears. She could feel one of his fallen earplugs being crushed under her shoulder.
The spear-clashes were within earshot, now. With the mysterious self-discipline of laziness, she sank herself back into the timelessness of sleepstate, savouring her final moments of rest.
"-et her sleep, for pity's sake! The kitchen isn't even open yet-!"
There was a muffled thump, as if someone had gotten knocked into the sliding door keeping the hordes of Chaldea at bay. Said door then slid smoothly open.
"Up, girl. Or I'll get you up."
It was unfair how articulate her Servant was at Fuck You A.M. At the same time, she knew Scathach was not one to repeat herself. Honestly she was worse than Pru when- no, no, Ko didn't know a Prudence, and she certainly hadn't ever married one. Bad brain.
"Yes'm," Ko whimpered mournfully, swinging her legs out of bed and hauling herself up into a sitting position, trying to ignore the spots that swam in her vision as she stretched. "Jus' lemme get dressed…"
"Make it quick."
"Nnm?" Indy murmured sleepily, eyes still shut, frowning as he rolled over. With little more than a flick of her wrist, a glowing sigil detached from Scathach's finger and glided towards his forehead; the very moment it touched his brow, he collapsed soundlessly. The lucky bastard.
"... holy shit, shishou," Ko said, suddenly noticing the unconscious blond tucked under her teacher's other arm, his long hair dragging on the floor. "Is he okay?"
The Assassin's stoic silence was worse than any withering glare she could have imagined.
"Just asking, geez," she muttered, grabbing the opaque black leggings of the Chaldea Master uniform off the floor and stepping into them. "He's my Servant, 'm s'pposed to look after him."
"He is your Servant," Scathach agreed. "He is also resolved to repeat the same mistakes he's made with every other woman he's associated with and encourage you to squander your potential. Were I an enemy, he would be dead, and you defenseless. This will be addressed."
"Well that doesn't sound like cult indoctrination shit at all," Ko grumbled, straightening her sleep-mussed waves back into a proper ponytail and yanking on her sports bra. It was lucky she hadn't had much of a nudity taboo to begin with - or that she'd been the one to summon shishou and not Ritsuka; she didn't wanna think about how badly Kyrielight would've reacted to her not-quite-boyfriend being burst in on in various states of undress.
"There have been several cults associated with me, yes." Scathach tilted her head as Ko took a swig from her water bottle. "We will begin with a sprint to Simulation Room 4." A stopwatch slipped into her hand from seemingly nowhere. "You will be timed."
"I'm sure I will."
"Fail to arrive in under two minutes and I will invite Achilles of Phthia to sit in on the remainder of this morning's lessons."
Ko's eyes were suddenly much more awake than the rest of her.
"The fuckboy?!" she squawked.
The start button clicked.
Mash Kyrielight
"Come on, don't be like that," the energetic hero of the Trojan War said, an elbow on the wall as he leaned against it in front of the… other Jeanne that Senpai had summoned. "I'm just sayin', you should let me show you what the Simulators can do. There's plenty of fun we could get up to."
"You disgusting fuck," the Avenger spat. Black-red flames crackled to life around the Dragon Witch's hands. "You come near me and I'll burn you alive!"
Oh, she had been worried about the fake Jeanne ever since she'd come to Chaldea. Ever since they'd fought against her in Orleans, Mash had known the Servant wasn't a team player. But now, she was beginning to wonder if perhaps Doctor and da Vinci shouldn't have undone her summoning.
Achilles winked at the Alter, undaunted. "Sounds nostalgic," he said impishly.
A downwards toss of the cursed flame had him do a quick step backwards in order to prevent incineration by the Avenger's cursed flame.
"Now, hold on, little lady," he held his hands up - still empty of his spear. "We're all Servants here. Might as well get along, learn how to work with each other…"
"You're being annoying," the Avenger sneered. "Do you want me to strangle you to death?" Her golden eyes shone brightly even against the fluorescent lighting of Chaldea's halfway.
Achilles' grin only widened. "Your rage is beautiful," he began.
"U-um," Mash broke in, trying to salvage this situation. "I don't believe that Senpai-"
"Isn't here at the moment," Jeanne Alter dismissed her with a flame-wreathed wave of the hand. "This is between Servants, girl."
… and she was only a Demi-Servant. Mash's face fell at the implication. It was just - she'd been trying so hard - and it wasn't fair that she still didn't know who had contracted with her or what their Noble Phantasm actually was-
"Jeanne," the calm, wonderful voice of her Senpai behind her, sending shivers down her neck. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say to your senpai, was it?"
"What?!" Flinching at Senpai's words, Mash abruptly realized that both she and the Dragon Witch were mirroring each other.
"Mashu has been here since the very beginning," Senpai continued. "I wouldn't have survived Singularity F without her."
Keenly aware of the weight of the other two Servant's gaze, she couldn't help but sink inwards, hoping that her oversized hoodie would provide some modicum of protection. Senpai was being too modest as always. Mash had done well during the Singularity, but that was just what a Servant did. There wasn't any need to praise her - she didn't want Achilles or Jeanne to think she was full of herself.
It was a nice thing for him to say, though.
"Now Achilles," Senpai then addressed the Rider. "We are all here for the same reason, and that reason is to train. I think that the four of us will make a good team for the next Singularity, but learning to get along with each other has to include compromises from you, too. If your… ano, 'affections'... are not so appreciated, perhaps you can put them aside for the moment?"
"... hmph. Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is the man who hides one thing in his heart, and speaks another," the Greek hero proclaimed, arms crossed and jaw jutting out defiantly.
She wished she could wax poetic at the drop of a hat like that.
"Sure," Senpai nodded. "I just wonder what Patroclus might have to say about all this, is all," he finished innocently, crossing his arms.
Mash was already poised to step between them when she saw the flash of anger in Achilles' eye, but it softened after the green-haired man took a deep breath, and she relaxed.
"Ritsuka, Ritsuka, Ritsuka…" Achilles clapped a hand on Senpai's shoulder, and shook his head. "We've been over this, little bro. It's not cheating if it's a girl."
"Spoiled fruit," Jeanne sniffed.
Mash frowned. At least once a week, one of the Servants would say something like that - something about society that didn't sound right (that sounded downright infuriatingly absurd, if she was being honest), but that she didn't have any actual experience with. And what was she supposed to say? 'That's not what the books I've read say about the outside world I've never seen'?
"Good morning, child-man-" Mash was already moving to intercept the interloper before realizing who it was. Silently, she resolved to ask Furiko if her Assassin would kindly not sneak up on her Senpai in the future.
"-have need of your Servant, with your approval."
"Ah!" Senpai's expression brightened at the sight of the woman. "Scathach-sensei! Of course! What exactly did you have in mind?"
Scathach nodded at Achilles. "Ko has extended him an invitation to join us for her morning lesson."
"Oh~?" Achilles drew the syllable out, smirking as he pushed off the wall. "Well that'll be worth a look. Lead the way, lady Lancer!"
"My class is Assassin, as it happens."
"In a golden breastplate? You're kiddin'."
The dark woman's reply to the gregarious Rider was lost as she led the way towards the Chaldean Gym.
"Well, well. Congrats, kid," Jeanne mumbled with a smirk. "You've successfully solved your personnel problem by shoving it off on another Master. What happened to all that junk about having to get along with our teammates?"
"Jeanne Alter," Senpai stared her directly in the eye. "When Scathach-sensei and Achilles are done, probably in the afternoon, he will be rejoining us. Getting along with our teammates includes the other Masters as well. You accepted our contract - you do not have to like any of us. But you do need to be able to work with others."
"But-"
"Jeanne-chan has worked with many different Servants," Senpai cut her off. "Are you saying you can't?"
The Avenger went very, very red, and very, very still.
It served her right for questioning Senpai.
"... maybe Achilles with Heracles-kun, as a different team setup," Senpai mused, as Jeanne bit her lip. "It won't be as good against many different foes, but…"
Mash sighed. Managing the Servants without Senpai had been difficult enough during the last two Eleventh Hours; she didn't even want to think about having to wrangle their menagerie and all the other Masters' this weekend. Maybe she could convince Paisen (Boudica could snicker all she liked, it was a cute nickname) to remain in Chaldea to lend a hand.
industrious | Adam
"Is this concept really so foreign to you, young Adam?"
Seated in a very comfortable chair in the same conference room that the group was learning magic - magecraft - in, Adam furrowed his brow.
The way Adam saw it, he was currently the weakest link in their group, by far. Ritz was the strongest, obviously - a professional protagonist who'd presumably succeeded in his task. His friends all had some degree of intimate knowledge regarding the setting. While Toby was the real lore obsessive, Adam was well aware of the friction the man engineered pretty much wherever he went. Spence and Dory apparently had enough to get by, Ko a bit less, but they at least knew what the hell a 'Nasu' was. Given the nature of anime, it was probably some sort of extra secret uberweapon. Maybe a legendary historical Servant that only existed here. Possibly a giant robot. Probably all three at once.
But what really clinched his assessment were the heroic spirits that the others had summoned. It wasn't that Socrates was weak - Roman's little chat with Adam had made things quite clear on that point. Given the way some of the other mages (none of whom, apparently, could do the song-and-dance number to get a famous ghost for themselves) looked at his chiton-wearing Ruler, it almost felt like he was carrying the Football wherever he went. Nor was it that the Ruler was useless - his Socratic Method meant that nearly any skill or knowledge could be taught, given sufficient time and willingness to put up with a near-infinity of questions.
No, the chief issue Servant-wise had been that he was expressly forbidden from bringing the Gadfly of Athens into any of the remaining Singularities. And while Adam Smith had saved all of their lives during Okeanos - given who the others had gotten, Adam could reluctantly concede that the Caster of Kirkcaldy fell a bit short. Their impromptu drinking contest had been inspired, to be sure, but not every would-be foe was going to be as reasonable as Sir (Madame?) Francis Drake and her crew of rowdy pirates.
Given that their Miles O'Brien-equivalent (which was a compliment to both Leonardo - or was it Leonarda? - da Vinci and O'Brien both, dammit) had spent most of the past week trying to get as much power online as they could, going for a third at this point seemed unwise. In short, the others had knowledge of the setting and plot as well as credible offensive (or in Mash's case, defensive) Servants, while he had neither.
Of course, none of these were insurmountable. Eventually, he'd be able to summon again, but that wasn't where he could make up lost ground the most effectively. Okeanos had already - given Toby's reactions - gone off the rails. Reviving Ms. Hinako Akuta (Akuta Hinako?) was obviously a sequence break. With every passing day, the metaknowledge that Toby and the others held became less and less valuable.
So as his fiancee spent long, torturous hours performing shounen training with Sca-ha; while Dory tried his damnedest to match flirtations with Drake and indulge in his Simic tendencies; while Toby was off doing god knows what to a seemingly endless sequence of thermometers; while Spence caught Ada Lovelace up on Doctor Who and Star Trek; and while Ritz tried to keep Jeanne Alter from burning Jeanne Proper and all of Chaldea to ashes… he was going to learn the rules. Properly. Trying to use magic just by going from the media they'd all seen felt as useful as attempting to find Nash Equilibria from watching A Beautiful Mind.
"...you're right," Adam admitted at last, scratching at the wispy stubble on his chin. He'd need to shave soon - when he left it longer than a few days, he looked more like a teen trying to look twenty-one than his actual age. "It's… very unintuitive."
Socrates' nod was a prompt for elaboration.
"This 'Counter Force' is… an unconscious manifestation of the world," Adam drummed his fingers on the table. "That acts to protect the world from devastation. It is a subtle thing - most of the time - but larger expenditures of energy are known to happen; it's likely that our presence in this timeline is one of these expenditures."
"Indeed," Socrates leaned back in his own chair. "What about this is anathema to you?"
"It's too goddamn complicated," Adam grumbled. "It feels like… well, I feel like you could just invoke the anthropic principle."
"And what is that?"
Socrates probably knew what it was, the old fart. "We are alive and exist today," Adam recited. "And humanity hasn't destroyed itself. But if humanity had destroyed itself, we wouldn't be alive here today to ponder why we haven't destroyed ourselves. It's just…survivorship bias. By definition, we exist in a timeline where this class of events can't have happened."
"And your sudden appearance into this strange new world of magecraft?"
At that, Adam was forced to sigh. "... well, fuck, man. I believe in a near-infinite multiverse. It's an infinite monkeys problem."
Socrates didn't deign to answer.
"...If you have infinite monkeys seated at infinite typewriters with infinite supplies and infinite time, then at some point the Complete Works of William Shakespeare will be written. Somebody being one-in-a-million means that there are like six thousand people just like them on Earth... at least," Adam hastily added, "when it isn't, you know, blown up."
"And you take this infinite multiverse of yours on faith."
"On… a layman's understanding of quantum mechanics. Which, I admit, nobody can really understand, according to quantum physicists. Point."
The philosopher rubbed his lips together consideringly before he spoke again. "What gives you the most certainty, Adam?"
The Master blinked. That seemed like a non sequitur. "You mean-"
"What structure would make you most convinced of a proposition?"
"A proof," he answered immediately. "Putting pen to paper and making the equations dance until you have the answer in front of you." And because this was Socrates: "Yes, yes Godel's Incompleteness Theorem exists and math can't be complete and cannot be proveably consistent. But it's the best we've got."
Given the twinkle in his eyes, Socrates damn well knew why he'd said those last two sentences.
"Then I recommend you think things over, do your dance, and when we next meet, we can discuss this further."
Ah, between the Magic Circuit exercises and the proof assignments, it was almost like being back at school. Not that the graduate student minded. He'd spent nearly his entire life there.
Here, as in his programs, the path to success was fairly simple. Learn principles. Acquire data. Observe surface-level patterns. Build a model. Rigorously solve for the deep parameters. Profit.
"Now if you'll excuse me," Socrates got to his feet. "I have a chess game with Adam the Elder."
That… didn't seem right. He didn't know when chess became Westernized, so Smith could well have played it in life, but the ancient Greeks? Not a chance. "Do… you even play?"
"No," the Ruler said breezily. "But Smith believes it's important to stay mentally active in one's, ah… 'twilight years' is the term he used."
… weren't Servants technically already dead?
Eh, as long as they were happy.
Andoriol | Jacob
The happy glow he felt was unfazed by his Servant's declaration.
"You're kinda stupid."
"Probably, yeah."
The cannons thundered, and a line of tension flashed down his arm. Finding the feel of his Od flowing through his circuits, identifying the circuits, and getting used to the feel of them being on and off.
"You've already seen her fight."
"In the dark, panicky, and trying to keep an eye on an entire battlefield. And, unfortunately, the dream cycle with her isn't going to give me an idea of how she fights as a Servant. You? You fought basically the same alive and as a Servant. Which is absolutely ridiculous." Jacob shot a grin at his blond Servant before turning and pointing back at Drake. The captain had a ship flying high, raining fire down on the simulated golems, "But her? She didn't. If I'm gonna be able to intuit how she fights and think around and with it, I'm gonna have to see her have some fun."
Mordred snorted, lazing about on the nearby hill beside the man as they watched the Rider go to town.
"If it makes you feel any better, you get to beat stuff up in the next round too."
"Eh… two at once? You're not Ritsuka, boss."
It was his turn to snort, "I know. Kid's ridiculous. But I want to see how bad it is, see if it's an emergency situation sort of possibility. Fueling just you with that first wish was already a bit rough."
Green eyes rolled as he blew air out between his lips, disbelief clear, "Just don't cry when it hurts."
Jacob pointed at the Saber with a grin. "No promises."
Laughter rang out over the bond he had with Drake as the last of the simulated beings were defeated. The captain starting to head back towards them at a sedate pace.
"Safeties On." He muttered under his breath, switching metaphorical gears and his circuits off, twitching his finger before letting a grin to match hers cross his face. Then he shook his head and turned back to his first Servant, "Look, I'm gonna help out in the kitchen after this, anything you want to do after?"
"Eh?" Mordred smirked at him, "Not gonna try and shove your face back into her tits?"
"After getting smashed last night?" The hangover in the morning had not been pleasant, though other things had been. "No. Give things a chance to cool off and try that again tomorrow? Sure. But I mean, we've had, what, a day of actually being able to share the same physical space?" Stretching out a bit, he kicked Modred's boot. "We are physical people, and we've just been pen pals. It's weird. So, what do you wanna do?"
"... eh, if we can get the simulator again, could be nice to see if it'll let us drive around." The knight muttered, "Kinda want to give motorcycles a shot."
"Ahhh," Fran almost crooned, stretching in a way that did delightful things to her figure that Jacob had to actively ignore. "Always good to have a scrap, even if this wasn't all that much."
He grinned, pointing at her, "Good news is there's gonna be a round two."
She quirked her head at him adorably, "Eh?"
The burgeoning magic user tapped at the comband on his wrist, "Marcus? You got round two ready?"
The Spiritron Engineering technician's voice came through clearly, "You sure?"
"Yep. I'll say if things get too crazy."
"Alright, I'll spool things up."
The world shimmered as lights sparkled and more things began to appear, the simulation now adding werewolves and goblins to cover the ranges of options. "Right, to bring you up to date? We're gonna see how bad it goes trying to let you two go ham on this. Might have to cut it short if y'all are too much for me to handle, but we're gonna see how bad it is."
He had to catch himself twice there to avoid saying 'ladies', but he did it without a hitch and was proud of himself. Mordred's outfit sans armor was just unfair, he was a kid!
Francis Drake laughed, the Golden Hind once more appearing from nothing in the air, the action alone making parts of Jacob twinge. It was like a weight, both physical and on his soul. Someday, given some time and measurements he may be able to get a feel for how 'heavy' every usage was in units of prana, but that day was not today.
And then Mordred's armor manifested in a flash of red lightning, and it was like someone had dropped another metal sousaphone onto his shoulder to go along with the first.
Drake as-is was more like a fiberglass one that got upgraded to metal when she brought out the ship, sharper, digging in deeper, denser, and more of a burden, but also more clear and distinct.
The sails of the Golden Hind wruffled and snapped as its captain's will drew the canvas taut, wood creaking as the ship began to move, Drake leaping back to her ship.
The prince pointed his sword at Jacob, a taunting grin on his face.
Jacob pre-empted the Servant, pointing right back, "Still reserve the right to cry if you go too crazy."
That got a bark of laughter from the Saber, "Hah! All right! Watch this!"
Dirt exploded beside Jacob as Mordred launched off in a flash of red lightning, the charge alone making his arm twinge unpleasantly.
Which did not bode well.
"Hey, Marcus?" he muttered into the watchlike thing on his wrist. "Be ready to cut it. Doable so far but don't know if I'll hold up for the whole wave."
He did, but not by much. The weight and the slow burn had been building, a flash of cold and clammy had gone over his skin in a way he distinctly recognized as the beginnings of heatstroke at a final broadside from Drake. It'd only been a few minutes but it had been a rough few minutes.
The fact that neither had used their fully invoked Phantasms this time was a bit concerning.
'Okay, yeah, that is NOT an option for now.' Was the only thought he had, more than a hint of dread at the thought of reliving Clarent Blood Arthur.
"Safeties On." A soft muttering as the weight was lifted from his metaphorical shoulders.
The environment was dissolving into mostly blue white sparkles, and it was still very disconcerting to feel the ground recede away from his feet.
The doors to the simulator room appeared basically right behind him, as did the stark metal paneling of the room proper. He'd set up near the entrance for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was in case of emergency it'd be quick and easy to get him out of the place.
Exiting the simulation room, the trio found Spencer and Ada waiting patiently.
"Hey, how it be? What're you planning for the Simulator?"
"'Murder and mayhem await,'" Spencer said ominously, in a way that seemed quoted.
"We're going to try our hand at programming new scenarios for the simulator. As it resembles a 'holo-suite', we're going to see how far my own abilities as a servant can push the system," Ada clarified.
Jacob nodded, it was an interesting concept at very least.
"Is that not what I said?" Spencer asked. "Anyway, we've been reading through the manuals for this thing after binge watching a bunch of Star Trek, and the plan is to see if it's possible to program narrative triggers into the combat sims. I figure if we can do that, we can at least replicate a very immersive video game, if not a full holo-novel."
"The real issue is that the 'characters' we're limited to are enemies encountered by Chaldea. So most of what's available are various monsters, Romans, and the French," Ada explained.
"But you repeat yourself," Spencer quipped. "I mean, I guess we have pirates now too. And the system is theoretically capable of simming servants if at reduced capacity. With individual servants' permission we could use them as 'holo-actors.' Hey Ada? Remind me to appeal to Fionn's ego later."
"Oho? Theater you could interact with eh?" Drake grinned.
A similar look spread across Dory's face, though for different reasons, "Definitely keep me up to date, could be fun."
'Memo to me, look into how the Simulator works. Servants, even reduced… that might be useful somehow, or at least a good way to learn more about projection and tracing…'
"Oh I'm live-blogging the whole thing to ChaldeaNet," Spencer said. "Help me beat the algorithm by liking and subscribing to my channel. Don't forget to hit that bell icon to get notifications–"
Jacob swatted his friend in the shoulder, "Oh hush."
Spencer ignored him, "–and for $4.99 a month you can become a member of the channel and get bonuses."
While both of Jacob's Servants gave Spencer confused looks, Jacob himself just rolled his eyes with a sigh and looked to Ada, who had a wry smile. "Would you be so kind as to keep me up to date? It sounds very cool, and I'd be interested in seeing what y'all come up with."
"I can assure you, Master Jacob, the 'live-blogging' wasn't a joke. We're documenting everything on Chaldea's intranet," she said. "The thread Spencer opened already has a number of suggestions we're trying to explore today."
"Huh." No one had mentioned the facility's intranet had recreational forums. "I'll try to find it, then, when I've got a moment tonight. I'll poke y'all if I can't find it because I'm blind or somethin'." A glance at the watch confirmed that lunch time was rapidly approaching, "Right, I'm headed to the cafeteria, gonna help out there."
Parting ways with Spencer, his own Servants trailed behind him. Jacob had asked what he could do to help, what things needed to be done around Chaldea that he could do to make things easier on everyone else - aside from becoming a better tactician and remotely competent mage and try to keep his Servants or friends from going crazy in one form or another. And da Vinci had instead asked what he'd done. Call-center work wasn't very useful, but years of restaurant work had some use at least.
"Ehhh," Drake trailed off, "I'll see how badly you cock up cooking at least once."
"Hah! Horrors upon horrors I tell you! I shall summon monstrosities from beyond the pale with my ineptitude with the cookery!" He grinned through his dramatic display, walking backwards briefly and giving exaggerated finger guns at the end. "Should be good for a laugh."
"So long as it's not mashed potatoes." Mordred muttered.
Jacob blinked, dropping the facade. "Okay, that sounds like a story that I gotta hear."
The disowned royal waved a hand dismissively, looking away, "Eh, it's nothing crazy. Gawain just kept making crappy mash out of crap tubers."
"Don't let Ko hear you call them that." He said with a nod of his head, glancing at his map to make sure he was on track, "She will stand for the honor of potatoes every day of the week."
"Can you cook seal?"
That one brought Jacob up short, though years of marching band meant he was still moving backwards. He looked at the captain in confusion. "Wait… seal?"
"Yeah?" The pink haired woman managed to look confused at his own confusion, as if he had been the one to say something weird, "Wot about it?"
"Just a lil' surprised. From what I know it's a super high fat, blubbery but also gamey meat. Hard to cook right without stinking up the place… as well as to get the seasonings that would make it work in your time period?" He shrugged. "Like, I can try if we've got some, but I'd almost bet we don't."
"What'cha wagering?" The captain's look was far too innocent.
"Nothing, because I haven't seen the kitchen yet. Smug satisfaction will have to do."
A brief rapping of his knuckles on the frame of the opening to the kitchen was enough to get the attention of the Servant staff of the cafeteria.
Emiya's face was in its usual serious scowl. "Lunch starts in an hour."
"I figured." Jacob was well aware that work for lunch started at 10 at the latest. "I'm here to help. Been in restaurants for years. Is there anything in particular I can help with?"
"Dishes. Bussing tables. And running food." Emiya said simply, without so much as a moment's hesitation.
"Done." Jacob was already unbuttoning his sleeves. "Where's the aprons? And the dishpit? I'm still adjusting to my hands being numb so thanks in advance for bearing with me dropping anything."
"I'll show you where everything is," Boudica smiled warmly, "But don't push yourself too hard."
He'd worked so many years in the business that the motions came easily. Apron, pad, pen, wash the hands, confirm the locations of the line and ice and drinks and silverware and dishpit and the rough menu and move 'cause here comes everybody.
Took a brief moment to make a nametag with just 'Acting Waiter' on it. Name wasn't important at this stage.
There was a measure of frustration since the menu was primarily stuff he didn't know how to spell, what with the primary chefs being Emiya (who cooked almost exclusively asian dishes), and Boudica (who mostly baked and did some classically european dishes) and Beni-Enma (who was adding stuff to the list, but was also primarily an asian chef). That, and today was apparently 'Indian' themed. Regardless, it meant the menu was in flux on top of everything. It also didn't help that he wasn't used to the more cafeteria-based-model that they were using rather than a purely restaurant one, but that was just some awkwardness.
So a normal day in the restaurant business.
All that said, some things were definitely for the better.
The cafeteria was circular, with an equally-circular kitchen inside the ring of the counter. It was an interesting thing, way more 'modern art' than Jacob was used to dealing with - especially the 'drop down food storage', which meant the permanent square footage was devoted to equipment and cooking surfaces rather than refrigerators and freezers. All of that was stored in the ceiling above them. And the 'dishpit' wasn't actually a place where you had to wash dishes, but instead was a spot to set the silverware and plates where they were automatically and literally magically cleaned. Nice feature.
Whoever decided the tables should be a hard, eggshell white polymer was kinda an asshole. They thankfully wiped off reasonably easily, but the slightest bit of nastiness on them was blatantly obvious, but again, self-cleaning dishpit!
Most of the time was spent collecting trays and dishes, running special order food to the tables, and chatting with people. Drake had shot a salute his way before taking a walk about to explore Chaldea, intending to come back towards the end of the lunch period. Mordred decided to stick around and people watch, as well as chat with the various staff and other Servants.
Everyone was pleasant enough, though some were crankier or less friendly. Ritsuka came through during the rush, but it was too busy for Jacob to engage in anything more than small talk with the teen. He got the distinct impression that he'd interacted with The Public at some point, the ease Ritsuka was able to engage in empty conversation was… recognizable.
But people moved through the line, to the 'register', with special order stuff getting 'full service' of being run to the tables now that Jacob was around to handle it. Before 'The Duel', it'd only been Boudica and Emiya with a rotation of staff helping out, with them calling out names and order numbers.
"Graveyard shift for the next Eleventh Hour that it's in the Western Hemisphere?"
"You're seriously expecting me to take a bet that broad?"
"For an appropriately large reward?"
Jacob's hearing may not have been the best, but he knew how to pay attention to anything he could hear. He raised an eyebrow at the two staff as they brought their trays up to the line, both roughly middle aged and sadly some of the ones whose names he hadn't learned yet.
"No! You're crazy." The woman looked at Jacob, and he cursed, not knowing her name yet, "He's crazy."
"Generally you expect high returns on specific bets, not the other way around, yes." He agreed easily. "Though I don't know what you're talking about here?"
Their explanation was brief, but gave Jacob something to think about and mull over in the back of his mind while the lunch rush continued. Apparently the staff did meals in segments since they needed people in the command center at all times, and while the first round dialed down, Ko entered the cafeteria and collapsed into the seat nearest the door.
"Hey Ko, how are you holding up?" Jacob set down a big thing of bottled water in front of his red-faced, still sweaty friend, who immediately grabbed the closest bottle and chugged it.
Thirty seconds later, after she'd lowered it and taken a moment to pant in exhaustion and wipe her upper lip, she gasped, "No… talk… breathing," before shoving her mouth into the crook of her right arm and dissolving into a coughing fit.
"It's favouritism is what it is," Cu said, materializing in the seat across from her and shaking his head in disbelief. "I've never seen her go easy on anyone like that - hell, I didn't think she could!"
Ko didn't reply, didn't even glare; as soon as she finished coughing she crossed her arms on the table in front of her and buried her face in them.
Jacob laid a hand on his friend's shoulders and gently massaged them. He was going to have to wash his hands obviously before getting back to work, but things were starting to wind down for this shift, he could spend the time. "That good huh?"
Ko meowed mournfully into her forearms for a moment, before straightening up. "Protein, please."
Minutes later, he pushed the particularly meat-heavy tikka masala in front of her, and she started wolfing it down without a word, though with several delighted moans.
There was a shockingly sharp *thunk* as Scathach walked past, putting a bottle of… yogurt down in front of Ko as she moved by. "For the muscle burn. We resume in half an hour."
"'nk you." Ko burped quietly, and reached for a paper napkin to get some of the sauce off her chin.
Smiling as any other response was muffled by the continued shoveling, Jacob continued, "Well, if it'll make you feel better, we'll get a break it seems. There's supposed to be a subsingularity that we're going to soon that shouldn't be a panic session. It's basically the present. Like, the day before everything..." he gestured around and above them in a circular motion.
"... so like an Eleventh Hour?" Ko asked, after a particularly lengthy swallow.
"Yeah. You heard them talking about it before? Or is it a Nasu thing I've just never heard of?"
She shook her head, returning to her meal with a sigh. "Nope; it's an Adventure Zone thing you've never heard of."
A table away, a freckle-faced man in a lanyard threw down his fork. "Roman, you goddamn nerd," he muttered.
Jacob raised a curious brow at the other man before looking back to Ko. "Anything special I should know?"
"Well we already know what kills everyone and why the time loop is happening, so knock on wood you don't also have to overcome the temptation to go back in time and set right what once went wrong." Ko pulled the tab-top of the drinkable yogurt and sniffed it before taking an experimental sip. She made a face, and set it back down, making her companion grin.
He snapped his fingers mid sip of his own drink before putting it down, "I was actually wondering if I could sit in on some of your torture sessions. Haven't had a chance to ask your sensei yet."
"... well ya couldn't be worse company than Cu and Achilles," Ko mumbled. "Might be nice to have a sparring partner I could land non-pity hits on."
"At least you aren't stuck exclusively fighting a mhaistir," Cu muttered darkly. "She isn't even making you fight with live steel."
"My dad is not a god, senpai," Ko snapped. "I don't have Battle Continuation! And I am more than twice the age you were when you started with shishou! Let her take pity on an old biddy, why don'tcha."
"Well, I wouldn't say you were old…"
Jacob wisely stayed well out of that one, though he did wonder (yet again) what made the translation talisman decide which words to translate and which to leave alone.
Ko smirked. "Ya sure weren't shy about applying the word to her, though," she said, taking another sip of the yogurt as Cu's flirtatious smile faltered. "And within earshot, too - you're a braver man than I am. Not necessarily a smarter man, of course, but…"
"So, uh, I don't know her legends, I'm just gonna trust her as to how to treat the teacher." Jacob pointed at his friend, not mentioning the 'you're worse than I am about dangerous women' he was thinking about Cu, or that what little stuff he remembered about a Scathach from osmosis said she was a very scary lady.
"She told him if he'd kept in better shape he might've been summoned as a Lancer," Ko murmured, leaning confidentially toward Dory.
The Caster looked mournfully at the wooden staff resting against the table.
"She said she'd let me use her spear," he sighed. "If I could take it from her."
Jacob leaned back and asked Ko in the same tone, "Has he tried yet?"
She winced, and nodded. "I think it was supposed to be a solidarity thing. She wanted to equalize us by having us both experience that fuckin' carrot laughing at us."
"I've been laughed at before," Cu said, shrugging with almost-believable nonchalance. "She'll be starting you on runes once we get back."
"Oh thank the gods," Ko groaned in relief. "I don't have the knees for much more of this…"
"Whatever you do," Cu cautioned, "you're gonna wanna take it slow; don't try to impress her. A miscast rune is…" He shivered.
"Bad. I'm gonna guess it's bad," Jacob said drolly.
"Better she disappoint ár múinteoir than lose a hand showing off," came the response.
"Again," Jacob said with mock solemnity, one hand on his chest. Ko nodded, straight-faced.
Across from them, Cu stiffened as a shadow fell on the two Masters.
"You better take care of your new hand," Leonardo da Vinci warned with false cheer, sending a shiver down Jacob's spine. "I… dislike repeat work."
Ko straightened up indignantly. "I am not a hoodlum, Maestra," she said.
"Anymore," Jacob added with a grin, more than a little relieved she had no intentions to repeat the experience.
"This isn't just an objet d'art," she went on, ignoring him and waggling the fingers of her left hand, "it's a body part! You gave me back a piece of my life! I am not going back to navigating the bathroom one-handed unless it's an absolute emergency, you have my word."
"Excellent!" the Italian Caster beamed, a tray of bright red curry perfectly balanced in a hand. Primly, she took a forkful of the stuff, and placed it in her mouth.
Immediately, the usually composed and elegant Renaissance woman was as scarlet as her dress, all but choking on the spice.
Wordlessly, Ko passed her the rest of her yogurt.
"I thought you said this was the mild!" da Vinci wheezed, taking a large gulp from the bottle.
Blinking, Jacob looked at the chicken before meeting da Vinci's gaze again, saying apologetically, "... that is the mild."
"...I hate India," she moaned, tears watering at the corners of her eyes. "I hate it so much."
"Hey," Jacob leaned against the counter to peer into the kitchen proper. "I've been meaning to talk to Toby but haven't had the chance. Is there anything y'all want me to do before having a sit down with him?"
Emiya barely looked up. "Tell him to talk less and listen more. Would've solved most of his problems."
"Basically the plan." The bearded man shot a finger gun at the taller man. "Just gotta get him to internalize it." Dropping the exaggerated tone though he glanced between Emiya and Enma. "Seriously though, anything you need me to do before I go open that can of worms?"
When nothing else was immediately forthcoming, the cafeteria newbie picked up Toby's order and slipped out of the kitchen area. The bespectacled man was alone at the table, his usual shadow of Abby replaced by a much fuzzier one of Jamaica. Sitting at the edge of one of the cafeteria tables, he was running the little fuzzball through her paces, going through a variety of tricks.
Jacob slid the tikka masala down the table for it to stop in front of Toby, sliding into the seat beside him with a drink in hand. "Hey. How're you adjusting? Haven't had a chance to talk outside of the all professional-esque crap."
"M'fine. Keep losing my cane when I put it down, though," Toby said with a shrug, "so gotta work on that. Plus Abby's with Medea right now, so I'm ever-so-slightly worried what sort of diabetes leaving the two of them alone will produce." The bespectacled man brought a hand out from under the table, a hand which was swiftly followed by his dog's black-and-tan muzzle chasing his fingers with her tongue.
"Probably quite a bit of lace," Jacob said, taking a sip of his drink. "I know things are rough," he began. "They're looking up, though. I haven't smashed my fingers in anything yet today. And you haven't gotten anyone to scream at you–"
"Dory?" Toby cut him off. "I know you. If this is your attempt at leading into a serious talk, Ko already read me the riot act. Over a week ago. So if it's all the same to you, maybe pick a different horse to beat."
Jacob snorted. "Beat me to the punch." He hummed briefly; it was worth double checking with Ko what exactly she'd ripped into him about, but no reason to not take the chance to talk now. "Lighter topics, then. What've you been doing to relax? To my shock and horror they've got a freakin' foosball table in the rec room."
"Good question," Toby murmured, giving the dog on his lap a scratch behind her ears. "Since the gadfly got us started on magecraft, I've just been… I dunnmph dog, please, dog, c'mon," he shrugged, even as he tilted his head up so Jamaica's tongue missed his glasses. "Yes, good doggo, love ya girl. How about you?"
"Good. Mostly been surfing their internet backups. Though you got interrupted." Jacob extended his own hand towards the fluffy beast as an offering, which the aforementioned puppers took as a chance to scooch over and sniff at his knuckles.
And then sneeze.
"Oop, careful there girl!" Toby chuckled, tapping Jamaica on the nose. "Sorry about that, I swear she forgets how little she likes most spices in between tastes. What were we talking about?"
"Doing fun stuff, specifically what you've done other than magic."
"Oh. Well, uh…" Toby trailed off, fingers running through his dog's fur. "Not particularly much, to be honest. Which is…"
"Concerning?" He supplied.
"Yeah. Not great, now that I think about it."
"Well we probably want to do a thing together as…" The bearded of the two pasty brunettes paused, waving one hand as he searched for terminology, "I'd say Masters, but Mash should be included too… field team? Anyways. Team building shit. I've noticed they've got a decent selection of movies, games, and books in their internet backup. Haven't had a chance to actually peruse it yet, though."
"I'll join you next time you check out the game collection," Toby said, pulling off his glasses to wipe the dog slobber off the lenses. "Show you which games I think are appropriate for newcomers and which are, well, not. We've probably got a fair few non-gamers here, wouldn't want to demoralize them."
"Very true. Party games have their place after all." He kept his smile subdued, "Y'know, other than at the bottom of a garbage bin."
"I dare you to say that to Wii Sports," Toby said with a playful glare, distinguished from the non-playful version only by a barely-perceptible twinkle in his eye.
"Sorely tempted just 'cause you told me not to," he said, before putting a hand on his shoulder and saying mock-indulgently, "but I'll be nice."
"Wow, how magnanimous of you," Toby snarked back, brushing the hand off his shoulder with a half-grin. "Alright girl, lemme just…" Toby nudged the dog on his lap, who fought his attempts to scooch her to the side and wound up laying half-on half-off his lap instead. "Good enough, I guess. Anyway, gotta eat fast. Got PT with Doc Roman after lunch."
"And I'd better get back to the kitchen before Emiya scowls harder at me. Seriously though?" He stood and stretched briefly, gently nudging his friend. "Hope the PT goes well. Don't want you to be stuck in pain forever when there's literal magic to throw around. I'll reach out sometime tonight about when to look through the games."
"Sounds good. Now, run Forrest, run" Toby said with a shushing motion, only to chortle when Jamaica licked his fingers on the way back.
The rest of the lunch rush went smoothly, as smoothly as a first day with a new menu and numb fingers could go. He only dropped one drink from a tray when he didn't realize he couldn't feel his pinky. Saved the rest of it though, and it was only plastic.
"Oi oi, are we getting to see you fail at this or what?" Mordred chucked the empty cup at him with a grin when he and Drake were among the last handful of people in the cafeteria.
Successfully blocking and catching the thrown cup with the serving tray with only minimal bouncing, Jacob rolled his eyes. "Keep y'er britches on. Be about twenty more minutes to get this all put together."
Slipping back into the kitchen, Jacob automatically washed his hands on autopilot before slipping into the kitchen proper. "Down the line. Storage's called with 'cooler down' in the right spots, right?"
Emiya grunted, indicating with a tilt of his head. "From over there, yeah."
"Thanks, I'll clean up the cutting station and flat-top. Gonna make myself and the rough-housers somethin'." He paused, looking at Boudica and Emiya as he did, "The degreaser's with the other cleaning supplies, right?"
"Yup!" Boudica chirped, "On the deli side, in the closet near the fridge."
Smiling at the beautiful woman, Jacob thanked her and set to work. Calling down the food storage and riding it back up into the recessed section to peruse what they had properly. Lights snapped on in the rather cool area, which was just as cramped and stuffed with things as he was accustomed to. His breath fogged in the chill and he had to tense his core to keep the shiver from going through him.
'Right, right, some burger…? Oh gosh, this is 70/30? Oh, ew. No. I'll grind my own stuff before using that for burgers, it'd all evaporate away on that flattop.' Moving through the cooler and tucking things under his arm as he did, Jacob worked reasonably quickly in the unfamiliar space, 'Meat meat meat… right, there's some chuck steaks… ribs… ooh! Beef short ribs, english cut too! Be a hot sec but pretty sure I saw a cleaver, and with Emiya involved that thing is almost certainly sharp enough to do this faster than anything short of a proper grinder. Sadly, none of those in the kitchen but I can make do. Onions, good. Garlic, good. Tomatoes? Yup. Good. Lettuce…? Ooh, good, some heads of lettuce… ah, decent selection of cheeses too! That's good. Let's see… ah, gouda… gruyere! Beautiful.'
Returning to the kitchen proper as the Servants worked on the non-claimed areas, cleaning things up on their end, thankfully a quick wipe down of the cutting area and the flat top was all he really needed to do at this stage with before confirming the location of the knife block and carting his ingredients in.
First the chefs knife and the tomatoes. And was it not a delight to use a knife sharpened by an actual master? Jacob was going to ask for tips on how to get his this sharp because the way it slid through the fruit was just gorgeous. A few minutes later he had them in the toaster oven on a tray to dehydrate while he slapped together the rest.
Sharp knives also made getting the meat off the ribs and the gristle off the meat was easy, and the butchers knife was equally sharp and made mincing up the meat into burger a swift process. Honestly, the only reason it took him any time at all was the care he was taking with how little feedback he was getting from his hands. Thankfully, despite his worries, his hands still knew what to do, and he was getting some sensation other than the buzzing tingle. With that in a bowl he moved to the flattop, a good, shaped handful of the mixed meat squeezed into a tight ball. Brief pause to find the pepper and… ooh! French gray salt. Nice.
Assuming Mordred ate half as much as Artoria did, or a quarter as much as she memetically did, and that Drake ate an unreasonable amount as well?
'Yeah, let's go with twelve burger patties.'
Six pounds of burger was thrown onto the flattop to sizzle, squished flat, salted, and peppered something fierce before adding an equal number of piles of rapidly shredded gruyere to the flattop to melt into cheese crisps.
Only singed himself once when Beni-Enma asked a question about how he'd done the patties and his hand had missed the spatula when replying to her. Thankfully it was small, only the side of his right pinky, even as hot as the flattop was, and Boudica provided a bandaid for after he'd washed his hands. Beni Enma was nice enough to dice the onions for him as he dealt with that. First time he'd burnt himself in a kitchen in… god, 8 years? Boudica was sweet enough to help him get the bandaid on, thankfully. Two attempts when his fingers were too jittery and numb to just feel his way around using one hand on the other.
He was able to get back into things to flip the burgers, pepper them again, then move the cheese crisps on top of the burgers, as well as the graciously diced onions into the fat between them. Sadly, he didn't have time to chop up the garlic for compound butter, but when the burgers were done to a solid medium he moved them to the cutting board, and set the potato roll buns into the fat to toast.
Pulling the partially dried tomatoes out of the toaster oven, he was able to put together a platter of the burgers. Toasted bun, meat, cheese, onions, tomato, slice of lettuce, then very lightly condimented top bun. As well as insistence that yes, he would clean this all, but first, his own lunch.
"Hey! Look who finally decided to crawl out of the kitchen!" Mordred laughed.
"Hah! Yes. The evil was defeated with only minimal injuries." Three plates alongside the platter of cheeseburgers were set onto the cafeteria table, "Not quite my best work, but I would call it more than acceptable."
For all that Mordred gave him shit,Jacob was still happy that the prince's eyes sparkled at the sight of the burgers, and Drake was also intrigued.
He bowed briefly and jokingly before taking a seat himself, "May you enjoy~"
"Eh, let's see how bad you messed up." The blond managed to sass even while snatching one of them off the tray even before getting a plate.
Drake was little more refined, grabbing plate and burger at the same time and taking a bite before setting either down.
The happy little hum that escaped Mordred was a nice thing to hear, but Drake's little shiver and trill was particularly satisfying. Jacob sat down and was setting up while Mordred snatched a second burger off the platter even without fishing his first. Drake's eyes twinkled as she looked to him, "How much pepper did you use on these?"
"Yes." The burgeoning spellcaster said smugly before grinning. "Good pinch each, freshly cracked. Modern day has its perks."
Finally getting a chance to bite into his, he savored the crunch and variety of textures, as intended. The patties had a little less pink than he'd intended, and he missed the compound butter on the buns, but still, appropriately juicy with a nice sear on the outside–
"You said they were shaped."
"Mm?" Jacob swallowed, looking up at… well, over to the small self-summoned Servant. "Yes. There's a couple ways to do so, though the two best depend on the thickness you're aiming for. For thinner burgers, I find the smash system to work well as it increases surface area in contact with the surface for better browning. But the irregularities of taking an initial ball and smashing it can be problematic, exaggerated by greater amounts of ground meat. For thicker burgers, I find that a limited 'volcano' style shaping will give the burger a consistent thickness as the shrinking causes the divot to fill in, as well as maintaining structural integrity for larger burgers."
The adorable smol woman nodded, peering up at him. "May I try one?"
"Course." He agreed easily, snatching one of them for the cheeseburgers to pass it along to the clearly skilled chef.
Giving the thing an experimental squeeze and tilting her head, she sniffed it before taking a delicate bite.
Her eyebrows drew down before she swallowed, and Jacob didn't interrupt her, waiting for her to make her judgement. Auburn eyes opened up with an intensity to them after she had swallowed. "It's too salty."
Jacob nodded, accepting the little spike of disappointment. "Unsurprised, especially for a more asian palette."
Beni-Enma's beady eyes focused on him. "You could have used three quarters the amount of salt and gotten the same level of crust. Remember please - the simpler the food, the less room for error there is."
"That… hrm… gonna be hard." The man made a face in thought, having a ratio was good but consistency… raising the burned hand and waggling it. "I've measured by touch and I lost a lot of that."
"There is no shame in having an impediment, dechi," the small Saber lisped at him. Only then did Jacob realize the source of her peculiar way of speaking. "But passion and practice can overcome even great obstacles."
A warmth bloomed in his chest to hear that even as it squeezed at the discomfort at the thought of who might've done such to her. "True. I was more thinking in practical terms of how to get consistent amounts without requiring a measuring set. But I honestly appreciate the criticism." He finished warmly, bowing his head in recognition.
The child-like Servant bowed in return, and finished the rest of the burger in silence, chewing thoughtfully.before returning to the kitchen.
Unfortunately, Jacob's contracted Servants had not been idle during his brief chat. The plate of burgers was considerably more empty than it had been a few minutes ago. Jacob definitely wanted at least two, and both of his contracted Servants were well into at least their third–
"Dory!" A slightly disheveled Indy set his tray down at the only free chair at their tab, his precarious mound of tikka masala nearly collapsing out of his plate. The two Servants looked up from stuffing their faces, Drake quirking an eyebrow.
"I am a Dory, yes." He said with a cheeky grin before it softened. "What'cha need?"
"The Counter Force," Adam said, pointing a fork at the other man. To his left, Mordred stiffened. "Does it exist, and how can you tell?"
"It almost definitely exists. It only manifests in two, kinda sorta three ways. The most basic is what was covered before, the whole 'barely noticeable minimum interference butterfly effect' sort of stuff. Basically impossible to tell without viewing timelines. Next level is basically stuff like one of our chefs, Emiya - the guy in red-"
"HE HAS A NAME?!" Mordred erupted. Several of the other staff were now looking in their direction.
Jacob froze, blinking a few times before muttering, "... should'n a' tol' ya that. Definitely in trouble for that. Anyways, he's a Counter Guardian, a heroic spirit-esque being that pretty much nukes the place as necessary. That's only barely an exaggeration, if at all; Pompei is explicitly an example of their handiwork."
"Okay Hagrid," Indy said around a mouthful of rice. "But how do you know that it was the Counter Force responsible for those things?"
"Someone who totally hates the stuff has told us? Like, in seriousness, I don't know how they confirmed stuff. Like…" Jacob sighed in frustration, waving the burger briefly. "Things tend to go really, really wrong for people that act against the interests of the world or humanity as a whole. Pompei involved dangerous research of whose nature I don't know specifically. And it's explicitly a force that can be contracted with for power. You'd have to ask Emiya for specifics - and that's not gonna be a fun convo, fair warning."
"I say ya just shut up about this whole thing," Mordred elbowed the darker skinned man in the ribs. "Unless you wanna get whacked too."
Indy started to give the prince a dirty look before abruptly thinking better of it. He made a non-committal noise instead, and dug further into his beef-rice mixture.
"Indy, look at me." Jacob met his gaze hard, barely blinking. "I am not joking about the nuke stuff. Please don't poke the bear here. The Tunguska event is probably another example of the Counter Force hitting its Godzilla threshold. Godzilla is exactly the kind of thing that constitutes a non-butterfly-effect version of the Counter-Force."
Indy looked away first, but the man was clearly not impressed of the seriousness of this. "... right," he said. "Sure. So-"
"Please don't make me console the Ko after cleaning up the mincemeat that was your face Indy."
That remark got him a forkful of rice to the face. "That is a low blow, man," Indy said through gritted teeth. "But- if it has all the properties that you people attribute to it, then my presence - and curiosity - is also accounted for. So don't worry."
Jacob had to catch himself to keep from smacking the man in the arm or snapping at him. He'd clearly hit a reverse-psychology gate with that one, and yelling would not solve the problem.
"I'm not," Mordred said cheerfully, and stole a scoop of the man's lunch. "You wanna kill yourself, that's on you."
Indy let out a long sigh. "In any case," he said, enunciating. "How's your day been?"
A frustrated exhalation came from Jacob as he shook his head, thinking desperately before saying somewhat lightly, "Mostly good, aside from possibly accidentally reverse psychology-ing one of my best friends into getting himself killed." Pointing at Mordred with his burger, he added, "He may not care whether you die, but I do. Just please be safe. There's probably better uses of your brain than beating your head against the Counter Force."
"Not according to Socrates," the man muttered.
"He'd also consider questioning whether a pencil is a pencil a fair use of your brain." Jacob pointed out before taking another bite of his burger.
"Yes, but how often have you failed to activate your Circuits?" Indy countered. "He doesn't do things without a good reason. Probably. And I don't think he's the type to subtly kill his summoner."
"Mm." Swallowing, the paler of the pair nodded, "Fair. Just want you to be safe is all. 'Cause you know Socrates will keep poking a thing he's curious about until it literally kills him. I don't want you to get caught up in that."
Indy burst out laughing - which posed a problem given he still had some rice in his mouth. Waving off Jacob's attempt to help, when his throat was clear, the other Master spread his hands helplessly. "A bit late for that, man."
"Yeah yeah, just don't drink the poison please?"
Indy's salute flowed into a middle finger.
'Well…' Jacob restrained the frustrated sigh, 'Did what I could.'
It wasn't much later that Jacob was cleaning up. Sleeves rolled up, scraper in hand, rag in the other, Jacob discovered the first good thing about the od depletion.
Degreaser getting onto his cut didn't hurt to high heavens.
Ko
"Ooh," Indy said, glancing up with a little smile as she walked in before turning back to the desk. "Issa Ko."
Though their room had been spotless when she'd gotten out of bed, her fiance was now surrounded by papers, as was his wont. Crumpled balls of notebook paper around the chair of the desk. Printed out sheaves of computer paper, neatly stapled together. And tucked into a corner of the desk was the small stack of loose leaf he was currently occupied with, along with a bewildering assortment of pens, pencils, and erasers.
None of that was important, though. She took all of two steps into their room before collapsing onto the bed with a grunt, too exhausted to even reach for the pillow five inches north of her head.
"Another long day?" Indy inquired, mechanical pencil still scratching.
"Shishou tied Fionn to a tree surrounded by a ring of fire at the end of an obstacle course," she said, her voice muffled even in her own hearing by the pillowy softness of their duvet. "She didn't let me break for lunch until I managed to 'save the damsel' in under five minutes. Burned a command seal to wake him up so he could save himself, but that just made everything worse, if you can believe it."
"...Ah." She heard the smile in that syllable. She heard it.
There was a brief pause, and she could hear him shuffle in his seat.
"Um, dear?" Indy's voice was uncertain. "You… know that she's your Servant, right? Like, if it's too much or it's not okay, you can - or I can, somehow, I guess - t-talk to her or…."
She lifted her head in surprise. "Are you nuts? I fucking love that crazy bitch. This is the happiest I've been since Montreal."
"... Not DC?"
He sounded hurt. Damn it, she should've known he'd take it wrong.
"It's a different kind of happiness, lovely," she said softly. "It's self-generated, you can't get it from another person."
"She may be dead but I'm pretty sure your instructor counts as a person, dear."
She rolled her eyes. "She's not where the feeling comes from, she's just… helping me draw it out." Ko paused. "Or is this your roundabout way of asking if the woman who literally reminds me of my mother is my type?"
Indy sighed, and muttered something like "not touching that."
"...Well," he said at a proper volume. "Happiness isn't the only thing that needs to get drawn out of you." There was a muffled thump as he threw a small sack onto the bed beside her. "Epsom salts, and unlimited hot water in the bathroom. The TENS unit is fully charged and waiting on the nightstand once you're done in there."
"I love yooooooou," she declared into the duvet, rolling over and stretching like a decadent cat.
"Huge if true," he replied. "But you're no good to me dead, woman."
"'m just gonna lie here for a sec," she sighed. "When I can stand up again without hating myself I'll go run a bath."
"Do you want me to-?"
"No! Wait! Come back!" she heard Emiya's voice echo through the hallway, along with the rapid pitterpatter of tiny adorable feets.
Craning her head to the side, she was just barely able to see the Queen of Chaldea herself scamper into their room, barking happily all the while.
"Ahhhh!" Indy shared her opinion of the doggo. "Hey 'Maica! How're you- no no no doggie no!"
Ko sat up in alarm. Jamaica, with a pure joy known only to the canine world, had dive-bombed Indy's carefully curated mess of papers, and was currently, ass in the air and/or Indy's face, chewing on his most recent work.
"Maica," Ko made frantic kiss-kiss noises and snapped her fingers. "Maica, come!"
Panting, Emiya finally reached their doorframe. "She slipped her leash," he said, when he'd gotten his breath back. "Sorry. Don't tell the loud one-" He froze.
Pieces of confetti continued to drift to the ground.
Emiya emitted a very quiet 'shimatta'. "Ziegler-"
"-Eureka!" Indy shouted at the top of his lungs. "Wait wait no ow ow ow stop off off fuck fuck Ýfesi! Ýfesi!"
And then he was off, sprinting down the corridor towards Socrates' room.
"... what the fuck just happened?" Ko asked.
Emiya shrugged, hands held up helplessly. "You're the one who agreed to marry him, not me."
Bennett | Toby
The Next Day
The Eleventh Hour. What a fuckin' concept, Bennett thought to himself as he (mostly tried to) read the monitors in front of him. He knew already that micro-singularities had a way of popping up in myriad spots, and that Chaldea could detect them during their admittedly-short lifespans. But this? This was something brand spanking new, for which he really had no frame of reference yet.
He'd only really gotten the basics: the Eleventh Hour would show up in a location and recreate the last full day before Goetia incinerated humanity, always beginning at 11:00pm, GMT+3. Twenty-four hours later, once the clock returned to 11pm GMT+3, Goetia's ring of light would begin forming in the sky.
One hour after that, at midnight GMT+3, and a total of 25 hours later, Proper Human History would be incinerated, and they had best not still be in the Eleventh Hour when that happened.
Rayshifts would always arrive at T-minus 25 hours, regardless of any attempts to appear sooner or later. The micro-singularity always appeared in a relatively populous city, and showed up every three weeks or so. The internet still existed there, objects could be procured and brought back from the micro-singularity, and actual living breathing humans could be interacted with.
The Command Room was in a flurry of activity - not out of mission related stress, but because bets were flying all across the room under Roman's disappointed not-quite-a-stare.
Da Vinci, of course, had appointed herself bookie. And Ching Shih appeared beside her a moment later, handing out scrips and IOU's to make note of everybody's wagers.
"Saturdays for GMT+4!"
"Sunday morning for Barcelona!"
"-more pens-!"
"Last two were in Asia, and it was Paris before that - we're due somewhere more Western!"
"What about Paris!?"
"Ça ne compte pas!"
"Fuck off, Yolande, you're just mad that they only picked up MREs there!"
"Va t'en, connard!"
Roman sighed, white-gloved fingertips pressed against his forehead. "Everyone submitted their lists after last time," he reminded them all. "So there shouldn't-"
"I said we need more pens, damn it!"
Toby did a double take. "Wait, so this is a regular supply run?" At Roman's nod, he raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't we get to submit lists for this? And why am I only hearing about this just now?"
Ada Lovelace took that as an opportunity to materialize. "There's been a pinned memo on Chaldeanet this entire time," she chimed in. "And several Masters have submitted lists."
"... oh," he said, feeling a bit sheepish. Perhaps his fear of read receipts was getting to him a bit much, to have not even looked. "Uh… who all has submitted lists? So I know who else is getting a mark of shame on their user account?"
The Command Room door opened once again, and Ritsuka walked in - dressed not in the usual Chaldea uniform or even the plugsuit, but a blue Hawaiian print shirt and camo cargo pants, with a pair of sunglasses nestled atop his head.
"Everybody, please listen up!" Ritsuka clapped his hands three times, and miraculously, the din of the room quieted down until it was little more than a couple of whispers.
"...wish I could do that…" Bennett heard Roman mutter under his breath.
"We'll find out where the Eleventh Hour is momentarily, and then you'll get about thirty minutes to amend your lists, okay? Don't make too many changes, and please don't ask for anything particularly rare, expensive, or hard to find. And no, we are not stealing the Moon Rover if it shows up in Cape Canaveral, Zorro." Ritsuka's voice turned lightly chiding at the end there, and he managed to elicit a surprising amount of chuckles.
"And once again people," Roman broke in. "Our first Eleventh Hour allowed us to copy the World Wide Web as of 2 hours before the end of the world. We aren't getting any more adult material, so stop putting it on your lists. If it isn't in the archive, I don't know what to tell you."
The room echoed with scattered amounts of nervous chuckling.
Da Vinci turned towards Bennett. "Jacob is getting tea, but where are the other Masters?"
"Well nobody's seen Hinako in the last week," he started, "but all the others? They should be—"
"Sorry we're late!" Indy and Ko shuffled in, both of them out of breath. The former's button-down shirt was one button skewed. "We were, ah-"
"We don't want to hear it." Hinako muttered from her position between Bennett and da Vinci, and a quick glance showed him that she still hadn't looked up from that book of hers.
… hold up just a goddamn minute when the FUCK—
"Lord Yu will be joining you shortly," she continued. "He required assistance in procuring... appropriate clothing."
"I don't even want to know," Bennett said, and even he wasn't sure what he was saying that about. Come to think of it… Ritsuka had come alone. "Actually, hold up. Fujimaru, is Mash not going with us?"
"A-ah, well…" Ritsuka rubbed at the back of his head in embarrassment. "We don't know why, but for some reason Mash can't Rayshift to the Eleventh Hour."
"... huh?" Bennett asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We've tried," da Vinci took over from there. "Three times now. Each time, Mash's Coffin has failed to initialize the Rayshift. We've tried different Coffins, subsequent Rayshifts, having Mash be the first Rayshift… nothing has worked."
"Did you try turning it off and on again?" Spencer asked, calmly closing the door behind him holding a transparent plastic cup with an iced coffee in it, and garnering a glare from da Vinci in the process. "Hey, I had to ask!"
"Our working hypothesis is that the Eleventh Hour is a fundamentally different type of Singularity, neither caused by a Grail nor a remnant of one," Roman ran a hand nervously through his hair. "However, there have been no enemy Servants or Phantasmal Beasts present in any of the prior Eleventh Hours - we're going to be sending you without Servants, so we can transport more material."
"But Xiang Yu's coming?" Indy asked quizzically. "He's-"
"Not an issue," Hinako stated.
"But—"
"Indy?" Bennett interrupted, shaking his head subtly. "Just roll with it. Trust me on this one, just… roll with it." He had a feeling as to why Xiang Yu was an exception, but he wasn't going to be the one to say it.
"No really, but—"
A frantic beeping at one of the stations, followed by the technician manning it standing up, drew everybody's attention. "We've got a lock on the Eleventh Hour! Bringing it up on the monitors!"
All of the screens in the Command Room flipped to a world map. Moments later, it zoomed in on the Americas, to the groaning of most of the staff in the room. A pen was even flicked at the globe, disappearing within the hologram.
"Booo!"
"Take it back! I want a do-over!"
"Fuck, there goes my Saturdays for the next month…."
Despite the myriad protests, the map continued to zoom in, narrowing down on the American South. A dot appeared on the map, and moments later, a map of the United States overlaid the generic image of the world.
"And our final answer is... New Orleans!" Da Vinci chimed in, and at that, the various Francophone members began pelting the screen with more writing utensils. Off to the side, Ada Lovelace gave a silent little cheer, and collected her winnings off of Ching Shih.
"How the fuck did you manage that!?" One of the staff, whose name Bennett hadn't yet gotten a chance to learn (translation: hadn't bothered to try and learn) asked.
Ada waved a hand at the board with a small smile. "Oh, it was all up there, if you knew where to look."
"Damn it! Bloody Servants…"
"Wonder why everyone's booing so hard," Bennett muttered. "I lived there for four years, it's really not that bad; the food is to die for, and all I had to do to not get robbed ever was put on some Saints merch."
Spence opened his mouth, but anything the man might have said was drowned out by the bombastic entrance of the scariest, friendliest Rider Bennett had ever had the (dis)pleasure of meeting.
"I am now presentable to the people of twenty-eighteen!" exclaimed a very large man in a very large Hawaiian shirt and clashing camo cargo pants. Unlike Ritsuka, this only changed him from "Conan the Barbarian" to "Miami Bouncer/Hitman."
"Leave the jian at home, my lord," Hinako stated idly.
"I would not dare do otherwise, my beloved!" Xiang Yu bellowed, even as he discreetly slid the scabbard out of his shirt.
"...And by the way." Bennett tried (and failed) to suppress the flinch when Hinako murmured almost directly into his ear. "Since you lived there, you shall help Lord Yu pick out what to bring back for me."
.... well, fuck.
Great Value | Canon Rating: B
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Great Value
Canon Rating: B
"Now, you're probably wondering why I called you here..." Adam began.
The dimensional travellers weren't gathered in the Simulation Room or a research laboratory, or even one of the lounges - Adam had brought them to, of all things, a business center. Even if the walls were the usual Chaldea porcelain-metallic, the contents of the room were decidedly plebeian; Cubicles, desks, a copy machine.
"Yes, actually," Toby said, tapping his cane on the ground in an odd rhythm. "There is literally nothing interesting in here, Indy. It's office equipment."
"So help me god Indy," Spencer declared, "if you've called me here to fix a copier, I will choose violence."
Adam merely grinned and held up a twenty dollar bill. "Wanna bet?"
Ever since Smith's abilities were made known to Chaldea at large, cash had become far more valuable. Actual currency was trading at nearly twice its face value - the surviving members of the finance department were apparently finding this entire thing hilarious. As a bonus, processing all of the transactions was apparently keeping them "too busy" to work on other tasks.
Ko rocked from foot to foot, watching their friends' faces with a barely-suppressed smile. None of them seemed to notice.
"No," Toby said. "No, I don't want to bet. So either get on with it, or I'm gonna go back to learning how to cast Fireball."
"...you people are no fun. But that is alright! For we are wizards (in-training)," Adam began. "Wise and learned, trained to see beyond the mere surface of things - therefore, for your elucidation and delight…" He made a dramatic flourish at the machine behind him. "Behold! A wonder!"
"... violence it is," Spencer murmured.
"You can borrow my cane if you wanna smack him with it," Toby said, already reaching over to pass it to him.
"No! No-!" Adam backtracked quickly. "I'm serious! Observe the copier! Look closely! Look-"
"- under the LCD screen," Ko added with impatient excitement. Adam made a face at the hint.
"Ko, if the next thing he says is 'look closely-er', I reserve the right to shank him." Toby hobbled over to the machine and looked… for all of two seconds. "Yeah I'm not seeing it. Indy, what flavor of shank would you like? Sharpened plastic spork? Rusty spoon?"
Spencer squinted. "Now hold on, that can't be right."
"Spence, it's a spork, of course it isn't right."
"Yesssssssss," Adam chuckled. "Now you have seen beyond the veil of the merely mundane!"
"They WcDonaldsded Xerox!" Spencer exclaimed, making Jacob laugh.
"Yeah, and?" Toby asked. "It's still Xerox. Not gonna save him from my shank spork."
"Wa- no, no-! I mean, that's kind of it, yeah but- brands! Look at the brand name Toby! Read it out loud!"
Toby sighed. "You know what? Fine. Fine, I'll read it aloud. It says… huh." He stopped, and actually leaned in closer. "Okay fine, maybe you had a point in showing us this, cause that's weird. Pretty sure Apple never worked with Xerox."
"No it's 'Z'-erox here," Adam nodded frantically. "And they don't 'work with' each other. That's the company. Apple-Zerox. They merged."
"In like, the seventies," Ko said. "According to Priya, anyway."
"Good ole' alternate timelines," Dory muttered from the table.
"Alright, Round 2." Adam produced a black sandwich cookie from a cafeteria napkin he'd wrapped it in. "What is the name of this cookie?"
"Ooh! Ooh!" Spencer waved a hand in the air, grinning. "I know this one! Hydrox!"
"Point to Spence!" He flicked the cookie at the other man, who deftly caught it. "Oreos were discontinued in 1922 after a decade-long lawsuit."
"... that's... familiar." Dory looked a little weirded out. "But goddamn does it sound the opposite of appealing."
"Speak for yourself," Toby muttered. "Even proper Oreos were kinda… bleh."
"You know," Spencer said, frowning around a mouthful of cookie, "this is almost too crunchy. Kinda disappointing, really."
"But wait," Ko said, almost skipping over to the coffee cart, "there's more!"
Scooping up an orange-and-pink-striped box full of coffee pods next to the sugar packets, she closed the lid and tilted it toward the rest of the group, running a waggle-fingered hand beneath it like it was a gameshow showcase.
Two words were inscribed in the iconic, bubbly lettering: Duncan Donuts.
Toby stared at the box, a strange groaning sound coming from the back of his throat. "What the fuuuuuuuuuuuuck…"
"Right?!" Ko said, smacking the box back down on the cart. "I got stuck in a Who's On First loop for like five minutes this morning trying to explain why that was disturbing. 'Yeah, it's a pun, that's the point,'" she added in a mocking tone.
"... wait, hold up a sec!" Toby said suddenly, blinking with dawning comprehension. "I just remembered: I made an FF7 reference yesterday and Ritsuka called it a 'deep cut'. What the hell happened here to make the Buster Sword a deep cut? Did Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest swap places or something?"
Adam didn't have a clue what the other franchise Toby was referencing was, but one JRPG was pretty much identical to another. And there had been a point beyond his own amusement for showing them the copier in the first place.
"Now, you might think this is unimportant or just me giggling over some novelties," Adam warned, still smiling. "But - this isn't our world."
The smile dropped. "There are tangible, real differences between the Earth we knew and the Earth we're in, and these differences can trip us up. Maybe by exposing us as outsiders to this reality, or something we're implicitly relying on doesn't actually exist here. More than that - we're supposed to be studying magic. The details matter a lot - Toby, what if that brand name was an arcane formula you needed to decode?"
"It wouldn't be a brand name," Toby said.
"You were asked to look closely at a thing-" Adam began.
"- and you threatened to shank him," Dory finished the thought, gesturing delicately, "Very… magus-like, if I say so myself."
"It was just a spork," Toby defended churlishly.
"I don't know Fate," Adam stated. "But I know fantasy. Little exceptions, small details, the specific wording of oaths and contracts… these are the things that spell the difference between life and death."
"You can also convey this information less mysteriously Indy." Dory noted, pointing at his darker skinned friend.
"I could, but 'enigmatic' is about the best you can get from your bog-standard wizard," Adam countered; which was a flimsy, if true pretext.
"Well here's the problem with that," Toby said, holding his fingers up as he continued. "One, you are not a wizard. Two, you are not bog-standard. Three, not all magi are wizards, and the actual wizards will shank you for implying that they're only on the level of a magus."
"Not that you have a whole lot of room to stand on not being enigmatic," Dory muttered, nodding at Toby.
"Hey, I'm getting better!" Toby said. "... mostly."
"And you deserve credit for that. Thank you. Please keep improving."
"Okay, serious talk over." The smile returned to Adam's face. "Given all that's different in this world, so many weird political changes and minor ripples… you'll never guess who was president in the 90s-"
"-Bill Clinton," the others said without hesitation.
"... goddammit." Adam sighed.
Canon Rating: B
"Now, you're probably wondering why I called you here..." Adam began.
The dimensional travellers weren't gathered in the Simulation Room or a research laboratory, or even one of the lounges - Adam had brought them to, of all things, a business center. Even if the walls were the usual Chaldea porcelain-metallic, the contents of the room were decidedly plebeian; Cubicles, desks, a copy machine.
"Yes, actually," Toby said, tapping his cane on the ground in an odd rhythm. "There is literally nothing interesting in here, Indy. It's office equipment."
"So help me god Indy," Spencer declared, "if you've called me here to fix a copier, I will choose violence."
Adam merely grinned and held up a twenty dollar bill. "Wanna bet?"
Ever since Smith's abilities were made known to Chaldea at large, cash had become far more valuable. Actual currency was trading at nearly twice its face value - the surviving members of the finance department were apparently finding this entire thing hilarious. As a bonus, processing all of the transactions was apparently keeping them "too busy" to work on other tasks.
Ko rocked from foot to foot, watching their friends' faces with a barely-suppressed smile. None of them seemed to notice.
"No," Toby said. "No, I don't want to bet. So either get on with it, or I'm gonna go back to learning how to cast Fireball."
"...you people are no fun. But that is alright! For we are wizards (in-training)," Adam began. "Wise and learned, trained to see beyond the mere surface of things - therefore, for your elucidation and delight…" He made a dramatic flourish at the machine behind him. "Behold! A wonder!"
"... violence it is," Spencer murmured.
"You can borrow my cane if you wanna smack him with it," Toby said, already reaching over to pass it to him.
"No! No-!" Adam backtracked quickly. "I'm serious! Observe the copier! Look closely! Look-"
"- under the LCD screen," Ko added with impatient excitement. Adam made a face at the hint.
"Ko, if the next thing he says is 'look closely-er', I reserve the right to shank him." Toby hobbled over to the machine and looked… for all of two seconds. "Yeah I'm not seeing it. Indy, what flavor of shank would you like? Sharpened plastic spork? Rusty spoon?"
Spencer squinted. "Now hold on, that can't be right."
"Spence, it's a spork, of course it isn't right."
"Yesssssssss," Adam chuckled. "Now you have seen beyond the veil of the merely mundane!"
"They WcDonaldsded Xerox!" Spencer exclaimed, making Jacob laugh.
"Yeah, and?" Toby asked. "It's still Xerox. Not gonna save him from my shank spork."
"Wa- no, no-! I mean, that's kind of it, yeah but- brands! Look at the brand name Toby! Read it out loud!"
Toby sighed. "You know what? Fine. Fine, I'll read it aloud. It says… huh." He stopped, and actually leaned in closer. "Okay fine, maybe you had a point in showing us this, cause that's weird. Pretty sure Apple never worked with Xerox."
"No it's 'Z'-erox here," Adam nodded frantically. "And they don't 'work with' each other. That's the company. Apple-Zerox. They merged."
"In like, the seventies," Ko said. "According to Priya, anyway."
"Good ole' alternate timelines," Dory muttered from the table.
"Alright, Round 2." Adam produced a black sandwich cookie from a cafeteria napkin he'd wrapped it in. "What is the name of this cookie?"
"Ooh! Ooh!" Spencer waved a hand in the air, grinning. "I know this one! Hydrox!"
"Point to Spence!" He flicked the cookie at the other man, who deftly caught it. "Oreos were discontinued in 1922 after a decade-long lawsuit."
"... that's... familiar." Dory looked a little weirded out. "But goddamn does it sound the opposite of appealing."
"Speak for yourself," Toby muttered. "Even proper Oreos were kinda… bleh."
"You know," Spencer said, frowning around a mouthful of cookie, "this is almost too crunchy. Kinda disappointing, really."
"But wait," Ko said, almost skipping over to the coffee cart, "there's more!"
Scooping up an orange-and-pink-striped box full of coffee pods next to the sugar packets, she closed the lid and tilted it toward the rest of the group, running a waggle-fingered hand beneath it like it was a gameshow showcase.
Two words were inscribed in the iconic, bubbly lettering: Duncan Donuts.
Toby stared at the box, a strange groaning sound coming from the back of his throat. "What the fuuuuuuuuuuuuck…"
"Right?!" Ko said, smacking the box back down on the cart. "I got stuck in a Who's On First loop for like five minutes this morning trying to explain why that was disturbing. 'Yeah, it's a pun, that's the point,'" she added in a mocking tone.
"... wait, hold up a sec!" Toby said suddenly, blinking with dawning comprehension. "I just remembered: I made an FF7 reference yesterday and Ritsuka called it a 'deep cut'. What the hell happened here to make the Buster Sword a deep cut? Did Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest swap places or something?"
Adam didn't have a clue what the other franchise Toby was referencing was, but one JRPG was pretty much identical to another. And there had been a point beyond his own amusement for showing them the copier in the first place.
"Now, you might think this is unimportant or just me giggling over some novelties," Adam warned, still smiling. "But - this isn't our world."
The smile dropped. "There are tangible, real differences between the Earth we knew and the Earth we're in, and these differences can trip us up. Maybe by exposing us as outsiders to this reality, or something we're implicitly relying on doesn't actually exist here. More than that - we're supposed to be studying magic. The details matter a lot - Toby, what if that brand name was an arcane formula you needed to decode?"
"It wouldn't be a brand name," Toby said.
"You were asked to look closely at a thing-" Adam began.
"- and you threatened to shank him," Dory finished the thought, gesturing delicately, "Very… magus-like, if I say so myself."
"It was just a spork," Toby defended churlishly.
"I don't know Fate," Adam stated. "But I know fantasy. Little exceptions, small details, the specific wording of oaths and contracts… these are the things that spell the difference between life and death."
"You can also convey this information less mysteriously Indy." Dory noted, pointing at his darker skinned friend.
"I could, but 'enigmatic' is about the best you can get from your bog-standard wizard," Adam countered; which was a flimsy, if true pretext.
"Well here's the problem with that," Toby said, holding his fingers up as he continued. "One, you are not a wizard. Two, you are not bog-standard. Three, not all magi are wizards, and the actual wizards will shank you for implying that they're only on the level of a magus."
"Not that you have a whole lot of room to stand on not being enigmatic," Dory muttered, nodding at Toby.
"Hey, I'm getting better!" Toby said. "... mostly."
"And you deserve credit for that. Thank you. Please keep improving."
"Okay, serious talk over." The smile returned to Adam's face. "Given all that's different in this world, so many weird political changes and minor ripples… you'll never guess who was president in the 90s-"
"-Bill Clinton," the others said without hesitation.
"... goddammit." Adam sighed.
Snow Flurries | Chapter XII
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Snow Flurries | Chapter XII
Andoriol | Jacob
New Orleans looked like a tourist trap, sounded like a tourist trap, and smelled like a swamp-based tourist trap.
Bright, almost garish colors made up a lot of the buildings, well placed plants or food carts or similar, tons of small opportunities to spend frivolous amounts of money on overcosted trinkets or souvenirs, the chatter of various languages and accents and clearly out of place people among service members, overly cleaned streets where the only detritus were leaves and confetti and similar.
And beer cups that missed the trash can at the late, late hour of one in the afternoon.
It clearly had history to it, layers of architectural design and care that weren't as constructed or deliberately slapped together the way artificial 'history' was made in places like Disney. People in blatantly out of place outfits, obvious sunblock, 'Nawlins' merchandise, and overly loud people, tourists were everywhere. Various spices and scents of various maillard reactions danced through the air, fried foods, cayenne peppers and chilis roasting or boiling, breads and pastries baking, lemon on shellfish, sugars caramelizing… it was all over an undercurrent of good ole' hydrogen sulfide from the swamp, but it was a subtler, familiar smell for the Floridian.
"Where do you think we should go first?" Ritsuka asked his current partner.
Glancing down at the printed mapquest directions and at the actual map, Jacob could only grin at Ritsuka. "Well I know what we're getting first."
"What?"
"Hurricanes~" the older man said in a sing-song tone, heading towards the most garish tiki bar in sight - not that he'd expected to see any of them in New Orleans.
Leaning up against the counter, he pointed at the bartender with a cheerful smile, "Could I get a hurricane please?"
"Any glass in particular?"
"The ridiculous pink one with the fleur de lis on it, please." Looking back over his shoulder, he asked, "Anything you want in particular?"
"Ah, it's alcohol?" Ritsuka asked.
"Hurricanes are, as is most of what they sell, yes."
"Ah, I shouldn't drink again," The teen said sheepishly. "I'm underage."
"I believe you're overreacting, but I respect it and wasn't referring to that overall. If we're walking all day you're going to want something cold to stay hydrated in this humidity." Gesturing at the rack of variously colored glasses behind the bar. "Also? Fancy glasses you get to keep!" A glance back to the bartender, "I'm covering his glass."
"Ah. Well, um… a, ano… strawberry daiquiri? The no-alcohol version?"
"Virgin-" Dory noticed a slight flinch on Ritsuka's part. "-daiquiri for my friend please." He turned back to the aforementioned teen. "Which glass?"
"Um, that one, please?" Ritsuka pointed at a milder glass somewhere between purple and bubblegum pink.
The bartender nodded with a smile, grabbing the drinks and mixers and getting to work.
While the caucasian man hadn't gone for an outfit quite as loud as Ritsuka's hawaiian shirt, he'd admittedly gone full tourist as well. Big straw hat to protect against the sun, loose button up T-shirt, cargo pants, sandals and socks. A crime against fashion for the ages, but there was no way he'd be able to come across as native, especially working with Ritsuka, so might as well go hard into the equally invisible 'actually polite tourist'.
"To answer your original question, we do have Mapquest directions, even if they're focused on vehicle traffic rather than foot traffic." Holding up the sheet of paper in a hand he glanced over it again, "I didn't see any obvious opportunities to cut through alleys on purpose. So absent anything that catches our eyes, I think we just follow the directions."
"Card?" The request came from the bar, and the man had to fumble with his fold out wallet to pass the pieces of plastic across the counter to be run.
Blue eyes glared at the boy's own copy of the directions. "I agree. I'm just glad the streets are labeled."
Jacob's own green eyes blinked before he nodded thoughtfully. "Huh, yeah, what with Rome and all that stuff. Yeah, makes sense to me."
A soft clink was the indicator that the glasses had been finished and set out for them alongside his cards. Both of them with a long straw and a pair of cherries, with the same color of drink inside.
"Uh…?"
The bartender waved it off with a smile, her teeth gleaming. "Hey don't worry, I didn't charge you for it and did a light pour for his. Just tell your bud to live a little! Laissez les bons temps rouler!"
Laughter bubbled up in his throat as he picked up his drink. "Alright. Fine."
Ritsuka wasn't as enthused, letting out a nervous chuckle, but ultimately accepted it.
"Mashu is going to be mad at me again…"
"You're not going to get drunk from one of these," the older yet slightly shorter of the pair said gently before leaning in conspiratorially, "That, and you can blame it on me."
An honest if little amused snort escaped the japanese teen as the pair continued on their way, following the printed directions.
He'd forgotten how nice hurricanes were, little bit of fire with the fruit and sweetness. Jacob hummed happily to himself, keeping an eye on the street names and enjoying the sights and sound of humanity around them. The various masters had been split up to better grab as many things as they could. Ritsuka and Jacob had volunteered for the big, general food and supply runs, to make passes through various restaurant stores.
Jacob hefted the stack of five-pound boxes of crawfish. "Ten right?"
A quick glance over it from his companion got a nod, "Looks right."
"Who even ordered this many?" He asked, putting them into the basket. Crawfish were nice, but not something he expected to need fifty pounds of.
"Doctor Roman, actually."
"Huh."
Toby knew the local specialties the best, which meant he was best suited to search for specific stuff, accompanied by Xiang Yu both to keep him safe, as well as for Toby to wrangle the ancient warlord. While that happened, Indy and Ko had gone out for more general stuff as well as taking the chance to go shopping for the upcoming wedding. Spence, knowing nothing about 'foreign cities', had been sent on an ATM run with the company black card. Smith made hard currency rather useful to the organization now.
While the pair were meandering their way towards their second stop, Ritsuka spoke up, "Ano, Jacob-san?"
"Mm?" Jacob paused, lowering his drink.
"What's something you like?"
"You mean aside from just how ridiculously convenient these bags are?" Jacob grinned at Ritsuka, bouncing the standard-issue da Vinci-approved duffle bag of holding on his shoulder. "Do you want me to try and narrow it down or should I get an itemized list?"
Ritsuka smiled back. "A rough idea would be nice."
"Cooking, eating, exercising, writing, theorizing about weird stuff." The paler man ticked off on his fingers of his free hand before turning back. "Could probably come up with more stuff, given some time."
"I see," Ritsuka said after taking another sip. "And what about your-"
"Hold up," Jacob cut him off, pointing at his companion, "Your turn."
"Ah, well…" he hesitated in his steps before smiling, "It's nice to have someone else to carry this stuff?"
"Hah! Touché. But seriously."
"Eto…" Ritsuka took a sip of his drink. "Promise to not laugh?"
"I promise to not make you feel bad about liking something."
"W-well… I really like ma- mecha anime."
Jacob's face lit up. "Always a good option! I haven't been able to keep up to date at all. The last ones I got to see properly were G-Gundam and Gundam Wing. What's been the big ones recently?"
Ritsuka brightened up considerably. "Wow, you are old! Ah, wait, I mean -"
"Hah! Not incorrect." Jacob gestured for the teen to continue in spite of the interruption.
"The latest one is a spinoff of SSSSyberforge...."
The two of them continued in that vein for a while, Jacob learning about new or maybe timeline specific mecha anime. Super, Real, and Otherwise Robots, while the older man gushed about some of his favorites like Macross or Gundam Wing. Managing to do so even as they gathered the next round of food and materials. Cold stuff in the duffle bags, non-perishables into their backpacks.
But the conversation did trail off eventually, Jacob grabbing another set of drinks. One of the perks of a tourist trap is that there were many chances to be trapped and top off the teetotallers. Handing the younger man his own refilled drink, Jacob popped the cherries into his mouth as they began walking down the street.
Humming quietly, Ritsuka asked, "What's something you dislike?"
Jacob made a little thoughtful noise, jaw working around the cherries and stems, "Mm." Taking a moment, he pulled the stem out, sadly un-tied. It'd been too long since he'd learned to do that and he wanted to get back into practice.
The younger of the pair waited patiently for him to flick away the stem into a bush.
"Well. Cruelty. Mostly. Racism and similar drives me up a wall." Jacob tilted his head to the side consideringly. "I try pretty hard not to hate things much so it's mostly little irritations. You?"
"I feel pretty positive about life." When his companion raised his eyebrows at him, Ritsuka reluctantly added, "I guess I never want to work in retail again…"
"Oh god yeah." A pained laugh-shudder went through Jacob. "Interacting with The Public day in and day out. Ew."
Ritsuka's shoulders sagged in visible relief. "Oh thank goodness someone understands. So many of the staff are magi, even the lower income ones don't know what it's like."
"I want to see the manager." Jacob said with a perfect huff, one hand waving dismissively.
"Ma'am, I am the manager." Ritsuka answered instantly, his accent somewhere closer to British than his usual Japanese, voice an exhausted baritone.
Jacob giggled, even if this had confirmed something he'd suspected, given how good at small talk the kid was, "Oh it pains my soul. Okay. Lay it on me. Worst customer."
"An entire twenty-strong tour group from Shanghai came in fifteen minutes before closing." Ritsuka had on a thousand-yard stare, but it seemed a little forced. "All of them thought pantomime was a universal language, and none of them wanted to pay sticker price."
"Oh, oh man. You might have me beat then. Mine's a smaller group, restaurant rather than retail, but they were the worst. Two adults, maybe a bit older than me, and two little toddlers in a booth. Kids towards the wall, parents out. Middle of after-church rush in a breakfast place."
"Pardon me," Ritsuka interrupted, "'after-church' rush?"
Jacob nodded, having realized it just as he said it. "Basically a line out the door and every seat filled. They ran me ragged. Back and forth from the stations and that table eight or nine times in a minute. Every time asking if there was anything else I could get them, nothin'. Bring them the thing, all of a sudden 'We need this.' They were rude. Mean. Interrupted me running other food. Actively grabbed my arm to stop me to get refills. And at the end? The toddlers' seats? Basically spotless. Parents? I didn't get that booth cleaned until after lunch."
Ritsuka winced audibly. "Is that right?"
"Jam on the carpet, honey on the seats, eggs and pancake and syrup basically everywhere." The older of the pair ticked things off on his fingers as they entered the next store on their list, "They were so bad, other tables that weren't mine stopped me to tip me for having to handle them."
"Wait, is that why Americans give tips?" Ritsuka asked in surprise.
And so they continued, Ritsuka and him exchanging horror stories of terrible customers, but also the gems, the little delights like a man Jacob had served that had just given him a nice hat he'd complimented him on honestly, or the backpacking friendgroup of Kiwis who'd been so eager to practice their Japanese with a fellow otaku they'd bought him lunch when his shift ended. Soon enough another stop was knocked off the list, even the da Vinci originals starting to have some actual weight to them.
The kid adjusted his duffel bag with a practiced motion in one of the quiet moments, letting it settle under his backpack for extended carry. A trick Jacob had yet to master, though the weight didn't particularly bother him.
Jacob tossed some of the remaining ice into his mouth from his cup as the teen prompted into the comfortable silence, "What would you do with a Holy Grail?"
"Mm. Haven't thought on it much yet. Usually not big on wishes." He shrugged. "Paranoia always has me worried that there's gonna be a caveat or a catch or some shit. I'll figure it out. I mean… we're gonna have a lot of them, as well as fragments and pieces of them for smaller forms of wishcraft… you have any fun ideas?" He looked to Ritsuka questioningly.
"I… I don't know," the kid admitted. "Roman and da Vinci are the ones actually in charge of their use…"
"That's entirely fair." They'd have to figure out what to do with them anyways though.
Soon enough, Jacob had stopped at another refill spot. "Would you like another?"
Having been dragged into the building by social mores, the dark-haired teen shuffled in place. "Ano, what is a Hurricane…?"
"Rum drink I believe?" Jacob asked the bartender.
"Rum, passion fruit and orange juice with a bit of lime."
"Thanks. That. One for me though, definitely."
Ritsuka hesitated, fiddling with his empty glass.
"You do not have to," Jacob said gently. "If you don't like how it makes you feel after a point or are at all concerned, just stop. Hell, this is gonna be the last for me today."
"I just don't want Mashu to hate me," the kid said, hunching his shoulders self-consciously.
Jacob couldn't help himself; he snorted, before immediately waving to banish it. "Sorry, sorry, that probably came across bad. Just… trust me. This is one of those 'obvious from the outside' things." He paused, thinking on how to put it. "I don't want to put words in her mouth, but honestly? She's probably got a huge crush on you. Worth asking her out."
The older man was treated to the sight of the teen lighting up like a christmas tree, and then shuffling in place. "I- I don't know."
"It's something to think on, at least."
Adam | Indy
"What do you think?"
Ko thrust out a pair of off-white lace swatches that, at least to his eyes, were identical. One of them had a slightly different pattern to it than the other, but he wasn't sure if the vaguely-floral clusters of two-inch fractals were fundamentally different from the three-inch.
"Uh…."
He was not trying to channel Sitcom Dad energy, but the differences were very slight. Adam was absolutely certain that either one would look fantastic on her; that was the fundamental issue. His fiancée's wedding dress needed to be perfect for her, and only "not god-awful" in his eyes.
But she was still looking at him though as if his preference existed, so he had to come up with something to say that wouldn't turn him into Homer Simpson.
"Too 'grandma's tablecloth'?" she asked, the wind going out of her sails a little bit.
"No," he said slowly. "Just… ah… what happened to black?"
When they'd been planning for a more traditional ceremony - or rather, a ceremony that would not be attended by the Ghosts of Heroes Past - she'd talked up the idea of having a black wedding dress. Adam had been strongly in favor of that idea - not only was Ko more comfortable in black, but it also meant that they didn't need to buy another dress for formal occasions when she wasn't the star of the show.
His tuxedo - sadly, lost in the next universe over - had been able to do that. Hers should too, dammit. What was the point of spending money for quality formalwear if you could only wear the thing once?
"... it's a little grim, under the circumstances, don't you think?" she asked rhetorically, wincing just a bit. "It's like with the lighting."
She had been very into lamps recently - Smith had even had to ask him what a 'color-changing El-E-Dee' was. Apparently Chaldea looked too 'sterile' for Ko's tastes - honestly, he didn't think it was that bad. A pair of good, bright rugs had done wonders for their room. There was no need to get all cinematographic with it - especially since his lady had cheered upon realizing there was no way this wedding was getting filmed. Chaldea had lost many people in the attack, but they'd never had a cameraman to begin with.
"I want…" she trailed off, before finally admitting: "I kind of want to pull off a con, here."
One of the fabric shop's attendants looked up from her work and then went right back to it very quickly.
"I want everyone to have a good time and forget where we are," she clarified, "and why. That's why I kicked up such a fuss about the bamboo folding screens, earlier; I'm trying to redefine a utilitarian space for frivolous purposes. I don't want this to be 'oh, the poor dears, they couldn't have a real wedding', I want this to be 'ha! remember the Zieglers' wedding? That was crazy.'"
"I get that," Adam acknowledged, because he knew the importance of a good distraction in the face of impending doom. "At the same time… I think everybody already wants to be conned. So to speak. This is our wedding - they're just invited." He decided to go for a joke. "Mostly because it's their base and we're outnumbered. But dear - just get the things you want to get and let everyone else - besides me - deal with it."
"Including your new Warhams buddy?" she asked drolly. "I mean, she's the reason we're here instead of at a dress shop, after all."
Adam blinked. "Are… are you... jealous?" he furrowed his brow, knowing that wasn't the right descriptor at all. "Because-"
"Do you not remember what happened to the last woman Medea made a dress for?" Ko asked, eyes wide in sudden alarm.
He was not going to admit that his knowledge of that particular Greek myth was extremely vague and hazy. "Are we also going to be concerned that the Betrayer of Camelot is going to lead all of our Servants in a revolutionary uprising and put Dory's head on a spike? Ritz vouches for her, you people didn't blink about any of the other doers of terrible deeds - like the multiple pirates or Vlad the Goddamn Fucking Fuck You the Impaler - being around."
"I didn't shoot any of their exes-that-they-have-lingering-yandere-impulses-toward-because-Aphrodite-always-gets-her-cut in the head," Ko rattled off in a single breath.
"... fair," he conceded, because, well, Ko did do that. "But she made it very clear to me that she doesn't take what happened in Okeanos as having happened to her. And from all the projects she had in her room… she needed to make something meaningful."
Ko didn't say anything to that, just stared at him with a small smile on her face.
"What?" He might have sounded just a little indignant.
She hugged his arm.
"Oooh," he said, skin pleasantly abuzz with the sensation. Surreptitiously, he flipped one of the bundles in Ko's arms so that it wasn't in danger of touching the floor.
"You're a good friend," she said, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder.
She made such a big deal about the things he did. Adam knew that he was pretty oblivious, socially; there was a lot that went over his head when he wasn't paying attention. That made it all the more important to note the things he did notice.
"It was purely selfish," he insisted. "You get a made-to-measure dress, and I get a tuxedo even nicer than the one I left behind. Win-win-win for everyone. That's it."
"I reserve the right to have Finn on hand as in-house poison control for the first fitting," Ko mumbled into his shirt.
"Only until he makes an inappropriate comment," he responded instantly.
"Agreed," she said, pulling away again. "For the record, I had a chat with him about this whole 'trying to befriend you' thing and-"
Adam blinked. "Is that what he's been doing?"
"I still can't tell if it's a scam or not," she warned. "Like, I think he's being sincere, but that's kind of how gaslighting works, isn't it."
Adam didn't have a response to that.
"Look, man," she said with a sigh, "you're the one who told me standard male friendship involves ribbing and invitations to do stupid shit together, I'm working off half a playbook at best, here."
Adam threw his hands up helplessly. "He invited me to sack! Rome!"
He realized, belatedly, that he'd shouted that. The store clerk from earlier was staring, and probably wondering whether to start livetweeting.
"And you said no?!" Ko hissed incredulously. "Dude!"
"Dear we are not sacking Rome on our honeymoon." Adam felt compelled to put his foot down. "Do you know how much energy it takes to Rayshift? You can't just… go into a Singularity for frivolous reasons."
She pouted, and went back to comparing lace samples.
"... maybe I'll wear red," she said after a moment, setting down both of the off-white. "It's good luck, after all."
"Ching Shih would approve," Adam said, nodding. He could see his own bundle of navy and black sitting neatly wrapped behind the counter. "...she isn't marrying us, right?"
There were only so many people with marrying authority in Chaldea. No clergy - and even if Jeanne had considered herself a saint, neither of them were Catholic. So that left ship captains; Spencer - whose pursuit of useless qualifications had gotten him ordained in the 'Universal Life Church'; and kings, which -
If she even hinted at Finn-
"Oh, I asked Dr Roman. He's still thinking about it, but I'm cautiously optimistic."
"Huh." That made sense, kind of. Given that all that was left of humanity outside the Singularities was Chaldea, and Roman was in charge of Chaldea, by the transitive property, that meant that the doctor was, technically, the ruler of all humanity.
Adam resolved not to bring this up to the beleaguered redhead. The man wasn't the type who took to authority well.
"Yeah, we really shouldn't have let Spence go off alone," Ko said abruptly, for what felt like the tenth time since they left the rendez-vous. "It's too much money for one person to be carrying around, especially from bank to bank without a car."
Adam sighed, and kissed her nose. "Spencer is the only one of us who's even started on hypnosis. He's probably safer than we are."
"I mean, I guess it could be worse," she said, pulling him back up the aisle toward the silk samples. "We could've sent Xiang Yu with him."
Bennett
"Fine music, good sir!" Xiang Yu boomed, drawing the eyes of many a passer-by and an almost full-body cringe from Bennett. "It truly awakens the soul!"
"Yes yes you've said that to all five of the corner jazz routines can we just move?" Bennett knew it was fairly futile to try and get an absolute behemoth like Xiang Yu to move by shoving him, but that didn't stop him from nudging the man towards the curb with his free elbow, since tapping on the sidewalk with his cane had already failed. Lookie-loos in New Orleans were a fright to deal with, because there may as well have been a street performer on every single damn corner.
In fact, there had been a street performer on every corner so far. And on several of these streets? More than one.
"Ah, Bennett, am I not to enjoy all of the splendor that life offers?" The Rider spread his arms and motioned at the city around them, abuzz with noise, music, life, people.
"You are," Bennett hedged. "But you can do it quietly, I'd hope? You stand out enough already without yelling about this and that on every street corner. And? I think you're scaring the locals."
Xiang Yu paused briefly, considering what he'd been told. Bennett, meanwhile, took the chance to start moving north across Canal Street and towards the French Quarter. He didn't get very far ahead of the Rider, who caught up to him in the middle of the crosswalk.
"You move as though you know the lay of the land," Xiang Yu said to him, though thankfully at a more reasonable volume. "You have barely glanced upon the maps we were given."
"You missed when I said it, but I lived here for four years," Bennett explained as the two of them followed Decatur into the French Quarter proper. And beyond just explaining that he'd lived here, he lookedthe part too, with a 2010 Saint's t-shirt, exercise shorts, and tennis shoes. "Went to Tulane University. You saw the tracks where we crossed Canal Street?"
"Indeed," Xiang Yu said. "For a… train, they were called?"
"Normally yes, but this is for a trolley car," Bennett said. He pointed with his cane off to their left. "Follow the tracks thattaway a couple miles, you'd get to my alma mater. Decent enough school, but the social life revolved around the party scene far too much - when some people make a game of parking lawn chairs on the quad to count the people coming back from one-night-stands every day of the week, you know it's a little out of hand."
"And yet despite this, you hold fond feelings for this city," Xiang Yu observed as they crossed another street. The Servant paused in his step as they passed yet another jazz musician, this one playing the flute, but Bennett inwardly cheered when he simply dropped some coin or another into the man's open music case and continued on.
"Part of it, I suppose." Bennett offered a shrug. "New Orleans is a foodie's paradise. Some of the stuff you get here? You will never find its like anywhere else, at all. Speaking of!" He stopped in front of a store, and pulled the door open for himself and Xiang Yu. "Here's our first stop."
Twenty minutes (and a sated Xiang Yu) later the two of them left the Southern Candymakers store at Decatur and Conti, laden with the first major request on multiple staff members' lists: pralines. Tons, and tons, of pralines. While they weren't as good as the French variety (if you asked Bernadotte at least, and though Yolande had agreed, the other Boisbleu twin held the opposite opinion), they were still in high demand by Chaldea's staff. Bennett couldn't really see it, but he also just wasn't a fan of nut products. To each their own, he supposed.
The point was, they walked out of the store with nearly ten pounds of pralines, and as Bennett perused the rest of the list, he prayed that whatever magecraft they'd come up with to preserve this stuff worked as advertised.
… this was a concern he would not be voicing, because he wasn't going to risk getting a thumping from da Vinci for questioning her work. Nope, absolutely not.
"So based on what else we have on the list…" Bennett finally pulled out the map printout he'd been given, and scanned both it and the shopping list at the same time. "It would actually be better if we loop around the French Quarter and hook back down this same street on our way back."
"How so?" Xiang Yu extended a hand, and Bennett handed over the map and list. "That would complicate the route, would it not?"
"It would, yes. But it also gives us a chance to get off our feet and treat ourselves to something on the way back." He offered Xiang Yu a conspiratorial grin. "If we're in the French Quarter, we are getting Cafe du Monde for ourselves too, and we're getting it fresh."
"Fascinating." Xiang Yu gestured forwards. "And your proposed gift that I bring back for my wife is…"
"Foodstuffs, yes," Bennett muttered, then sighed. "Look. Your wife has been around for literally thousands of years. She doesn't need money, she doesn't want for necessities, and she probably couldn't care less about random tchotchkes. But all the money and Adam Smiths in the world can't get her something that can only be found in one place, and isn't purely a consumer good. So we're bringing her back things that you can only get if you actually come down here to New Orleans."
"A wise choice," Xiang Yu agreed affably. "And… you did not insult my wife with that answer."
Bennett opened his mouth to respond, but immediately thought better of it. Instead, he composed his thoughts for a second before finally saying something. "I'm… gonna go out on a limb and say you were expecting me to."
"There was a 91.43 percent chance of your doing so, yes. Naturally, I would be obligated to inform you of the consequences of doing so again. Should I inform you anyway?"
The Rider had not changed his tone or body language at all; he still seemed genuinely friendly, his question as if to clarify some past point of confusion.
Of course, this was also the man who massacred his way through ancient China for the sole purpose of making himself The Bad Guy, because his supercomputer brain said it was the most reasonable course of action.
"Uh… yeah, no thank you I'd rather you not," Bennett said as quickly as possible. "In fact, how about we either skip right past that point or change topics to something—"
"—Bennett!" Roman's voice was practically shouting in his ear, despite coming from the band on his wrist. One of the passersby flipped him off, shooting Bennett a dirty look. "We're reading a Spirit Origin in your vicinity!"
Beside him, Xiang Yu shifted, his entire bearing changing in a fraction of an instant. Before, he had been menacing behind a thick veneer of friendliness. But now, all of that amiability melted away to show the truly vicious side of the Servant, ready for blood and madness at a moment's notice.
At the same time, Bennett's thoughts started to race. A Spirit Origin showing up in a location that, to the best of anyone's knowledge, hadn't had one yet. He looked to the Servant beside him, and wondered for a moment if perhaps he was to blame for this sudden appearance.
"What can you tell me?" Bennett asked, holding his hand as though there was a phone in it, even as he spoke into his wrist.
"It's definitely not a group of enemy wyverns," Roman conceded. "It resembles a Servant, but it's not… dense enough, I'd say. We also picked up a weird fluctuation on the signal; I'm not sure if it was a one-off, or an inherent property thereof."
"What of Class container?" Xiang Yu asked. "What is the nature of our foe?"
"I wish I could tell you, but it's uncertain." Bennett could almost see the apologetic expression he knew was probably on Roman's face right now. "It's difficult to tell, but it appears most similar to one of the Knight classes."
Bennett's hunch had been growing as Roman spoke, but that last little bit of information clinched it.
"How far are we from the Spirit Origin?"
"Approximately five hundred meters straight ahead of you," Roman said. Bennett looked up the street, frowning as he thought to himself.
"... Doc, are you telling me the Spirit Origin is at Cafe du Monde?"
"I, uh, don't know?" Roman's tone was apologetic, "I've never been there."
Bennett looked up at Xiang Yu. "Alright, we'll go check it out. Keep you posted."
"You had best make sure my beloved is safe!" Bennett tilted far away from his comm bracelet as Hinako's voice screamed over the line to Chaldea. Xiang Yu, on the other hand, tilted in. "Do you understand me!?"
"Worry not, my dear!" Xiang Yu boomed out. "Should the battle turn against us, I shall retreat in good order."
"Alright, that's enough, you two can play kissy-face later, let's go." Bennett grabbed his cane by the shaft and gave Xiang Yu a couple small thwacks with the handle. "Well, we were headed there anyway. May as well check it out now and get back to business."
"Very well! Lead on, Bennett!"
Bennett needed no further prompting. He walked on along Decatur Street, cane clicking on the old sidewalks and roads, Xiang Yu hovering over him in what he could only hope was a protective manner. Given how everybody on the street stepped out of their way, though, he somehow doubted that was the actual effect the Servant's presence had.
Four blocks up, Bennett's eyes fell upon what was supposed to be their final stop before regrouping: Cafe du Monde. Tourist trap it may be, but it was the one tourist trap that Bennett would swear by to any god that cared to listen. Beignets—basically just a variety of doughnut—were their specialty. And having tried the beignets at many a location, he could safely say that Cafe du Monde had the best he'd eaten. Bennett had been to this place many times during his four years in New Orleans, and probably put on several pounds due to their fatty, doughy, sugary goodness alone.
What he saw, though, made him do a double-take. The covered outdoor pavilion, full of tables currently seating hungry and gluttonous tourists? That was the same. What wasn't the same was the absolutely massive indoor cafe. And this was properly indoors, as opposed to the always-open building he knew housed the kitchens. It was also at least three times larger than that building had been. But more than that?
"When the hell did Cafe du Monde get a wait staff?" Bennett murmured to himself. He'd always gone up to the counter, paid, received his beignets, and then gone to sit on the pavilion. But… there was a building, with an indoor cafe, and it was several times bigger than he'd expected it to be.
Right, this was fine, Bennett assured himself. He still knew what he was looking for, this didn't change anything. With that in mind, Bennett scanned everybody currently seated, and turned towards the indoor cafe when he failed to find what he was looking for.
"Looks like we're going inside," he told Xiang Yu. "I doubt there'll be any hostilities, but just be ready to catch somebody pulling a runner."
"Understood," Xiang Yu replied. "They shall not get past me." Bennett gave his companion a nod, and with that, the two approached the indoor half of Cafe du Monde.
The interior decor was, if Bennett was being honest, a bit lackluster. Simple black and white tiling covered the floor and walls, and all the signage and furniture was the same old-timey aesthetic as the outside of Cafe du Monde. But this wasn't his particular focus. Instead, Bennett scanned the crowd, looking at the smaller, individual tables… and found his target, looking shiftily at the back of the restaurant and the kitchens while inching out of the seat and angling towards the front, one hand hooked around the straps of both a backpack and an oblong carry case on the back of the other chair at the table, the other crumpling a used napkin up on the table.
She had long hair, an incredibly light pink so sun-bleached as to be almost silver, pulled up in a ponytail that fanned out behind her head, and held in place by an oddly elaborate hairpiece. A black t-shirt, emblazoned with "House of the Rising Sun Est. 1854" and a truly obnoxious number of fleurs-de-lis, just barely exposed her navel, and below that she had on worn, sun-faded jeans tucked into knee-high cowboy boots.
"Wait here at the front a moment," Bennett whispered to Xiang Yu, who simply nodded and adjusted his position into his attempt at a disinterested slouch, which… didn't quite work. Bennett ignored that, and started walking towards the table, pulling out his wallet as he did. A moment later, at some invisible signal, the woman stood up from her table, angling towards the door—
"Shinmen Musashi-no-Kami Fujiwara-no-Harunobu," Bennett said, raising his cane to block her path. "Sit your ass back down."
"So…"
A second round of beignets for Miyamoto Musashi herself, and initial servings for Bennett and Xiang Yu, arrived at the table. Along with the bill for both theirs, both of hers, and the twenty-odd takeaway orders that they'd put in for the folks at Chaldea. Bennett summarily dropped a Chaldea credit card onto the bill, which was taken away an instant later by the server, who gave the Japanese not-Servant the stink-eye as he left.
"...yeah, I can't believe this," Musashi said with a cheerful grin and a quick hand, and like that one of Bennett's beignets was gone. To which he responded by ever so slowly reaching out, grabbing one of the beignets on Musashi's own plate, and taking it back to even the score. "Hey!"
"I paid for both of our beignets," Bennett said, taking a bite of his pilfered pastry, very carefully not taking a breath so he didn't inhale copious amounts of powdered sugar. "You don't really have room to complain."
Xiang Yu took one bite, grimaced, and pushed his plate away. "They are much too sweet for my tastes," he murmured, quieter than Bennett had heard the man say anything thus far. An instant later, the contents of his plate wound up on Musashi's, including the beignet Xiang Yu'd already taken a bite out of.
"So." Bennett wiped the powdered sugar away from his mouth, knocking his cane over in the process, which he then leaned over to pick up before continuing. "What part of this, exactly, is unbelievable?"
"Where do you want me to start?" It was actually amazing how intelligible she was with that much sweetness stuffed into her mouth. She nodded at Xiang Yu. "He's a Servant, but not your Servant, and there's this Chaldea place filled with Servants, and you're all trying to keep this timeline from ending up like mine?"
"Mostly accurate," Bennett agreed, waggling his beignet. "It hasn't dead-ended or veered off too far and gotten pruned, no," and boy wasn't he glad Musashi knew all the terminology involved, so much less to have to explain. "Instead, some megalomaniacal fuckwad up and decided he could do it better, and burned it all down so he could start his own timeline, with blackjack and hookers."
"What's wrong with hookers?" Musashi's eyes narrowed. "You're not some kinda prude, are ya?"
"Absolutely nothing, except for the part where there are no hookers, there's just ash," he replied. "'Cause he's not just an asshole, he's also a dumbass."
"Then why did you even mention the hookers?" the pink-haired Saber threw her arms up.
"Musashi," Bennett said, looking at her over the top of his glasses. "You've wandered around the modern era enough times that you can actually blend in. You should know damn well what a meme is."
"... I knew that," Musashi said, clearly not knowing that, and disguising her ignorance with another Chubby Bunny of beignet. "What I don't know is what any of this has to do with li'l old me."
"Well that depends. Do you still wish for your sword to reach 'Zero'?"
That put a frown on her face, and an odd rage filled her shining eyes. She pointed a finger at him as if it were a katana. "Now that's just fighting dirty!"
"Fair is the advantage to him that possesses it," Xiang Yu rumbled, from the sidelines.
"What he said. Fact of the matter is?" Bennett picked up his next beignet, and gestured at Musashi. "A set of circumstances that I know, for a fact, lead to you reaching 'Zero' and then beyond it, can only come to pass if Chaldea succeeds. Yes, it could certainly happen differently, but that makes it from a relatively sure thing into a gamble. And while I personally would rather you only finish step one and not push past 'Zero', that's ultimately not my choice, it's yours. But it's also your choice to help us get you to the starting line in the first place."
"And you're some kind of prophet or seer," Musashi snorted, an action that somehow managed to still be cute to Bennett. "This vagabond's run enough con games to know it's never that good and true at the same time."
"Not a prophet, nor a seer, and never said it was good," he said. "I'm just someone from a different timeline to this one, like yourself."
"And I'm super-famous there or something?"
"Honey, you have no idea," Bennett said. "Heck, just come say hello to the rest of the group, and I can demonstrate right then and there."
Furiko
She was fresh off a Rayshift and the revelation that her husband-to-be had been hanging out with Medea of Colchis without the slightest understanding of exactly how terrifying that was, and only a little more than an hour removed from the Insta-ho in the cafe who'd tried to talk her (or rather, her new hand) into an unpaid inspiration-porn photo shoot.
She was not in any mood to be polite.
"Your book is terrible," she told the swordsman bluntly, "and you owe Sasaki Kojiro a proper fight."
Musashi blinked. "I wrote a book?"
"Hey, Ko? She's, uh… not the Musashi from this timeline," Toby said, in that herky-jerk you're-a-fucking-ditz voice he trotted out every now and then. "But yeah, she does owe him a fight."
"Well you could've led with that," Ko retorted, shucking her duffle bag off of her shoulder.
"Nice to meet you," Indy quickly interrupted before she could even apologize, sticking out a hand. "I have no idea who you are, but I assume you're important."
"Of course I'm important!" Musashi said, shaking it as she pushed her chest out and tilted her chin up.
"I have some idea, but if you're not from this timeline I question my specific knowledge. It's a pleasure to meet you…" Dory said, rolling his eyes at Indy's antics and starting to give a brief bow, only to hesitate as Ritsuka approached.
"I'm sorry," Ritsuka started as he walked up to the pinkette, something different in his tone. "But you are truly Miyamoto Musashi? The legendary swordsman?"
"That's me!" Musashi turned to face the kid proudly. "Shinmen Musashi-no-Kami Fujiwara-no-Harunobu, master of the Niten Ichiryu, at your service!"
Whatever Ritsuka's response, it was too rapid-fire and garbled for even da Vinci's translation talisman to truly catch; Ko heard pieces of sounds that might have been 'amazing' or 'my whole life', but if he was putting together real sentences, her Japanese wasn't good enough to parse them. Whatever it was he actually said, it left the woman blushing, flustered, and looking just a little uncomfortable.
"Told ya you'd be recognized," Toby said. "Alright Fujimaru, you can fanboy and drool over her later, I gotta show her around." With that, Toby stepped between Ritsuka and Musashi, guiding the latter away a lot more gently than he'd been with anybody other than Abigail.
"Toby's got a cru-ush," Indy whispered - as if he weren't also staring at the Saber's ass. Honestly, maybe it was just the brewing bridezilla in her, but Ko was getting pretty sick of being introduced to women thinner and prettier than her.
"Ah, Bennett!" The door out of the Rayshift chamber slid open to reveal Best Bridge Bunnies; da Vinci had a very wide, extremely strained smile on her face, and a small coffee stain on one of her gloves. "And who is this!"
"... iiiiiit's a Saber!" Toby said, waving a hand at Musashi, which made Dr Roman visibly double-take and give her a second once-over. "Kinda. Sorta. Well not yet, given she's still alive, but… yeah!"
"Hello, cutie!" Musashi beamed at - well, Ko didn't know which of them she was beaming at, exactly (a dilemma Ko was more than familiar with herself). "You were right," she added to Toby in a stage whisper, "this place is amazing!"
"Oh, dope," Spencer chirped, "another bisexual for the council."
Ritsuka twitched a little at that.
"Ah-" Roman let out a nervous chuckle. "Thank you, Miss-"
"You stand before! Shinmen Musashi-no-Kami Fujiwara-no-Harunobu!" Her hands went to her hips, before the smug look on her face broke into a teasing grin. "But you can call me-"
"Thank you, Musashi," da Vinci placed a finger on the rose-blonde's lips. "We need to ask you a few questions before you can explore. If you wouldn't mind following me?"
"Anywhere~"
"Ask her about pruned timelines," Toby supplied. "She has firsthand knowledge!"
"And while we're handling Bennett's new addition," she replied. "We need to get everything properly inventoried."
"All righty!" Spencer's new outer layer was practically swimming on him, so he had to lift the hem a fair ways to slip his hand into his pocket. "One sketchy black credit card looking thing, returned in full working order." He handed the ATM Dispensifier back to Dr Roman with one hand, and the briefcase he'd been carrying with the other. "And one sexy black briefcase containing… a shocking amount of cash, given how small it is."
"Hey, uh, Spencer?" Toby said from the door, one eyebrow raised even as his head canted to the side. "Where did you get the Saints jersey?"
Spence beamed, and reached into the back of his pants to pull out a 9mm. "A better question is, where did I get this gun?"
Adam | Indy
[TWO DAYS LATER]
The teacup smashed against the wall and promptly shattered.
"Fuck!" Adam swore. "This is bullshit!"
It'd been two days since the close of the Eleventh Hour, and while it was too early to call what they had a "routine," things were moving back towards a more regular rhythm. Lessons with Socrates, training time in the simulators, prep work for his wedding… just the usual.
"You okay man?"
Scowling, the least talented magus grabbed another teacup, and closed his eyes.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Continuing his regulated breath, he brought up the mental image he'd chosen to activate his Magic Circuits - a two part lock coupled with an activation phrase: The lights of a streetlamp across the bleached night sky, pulling up and reversing so that those same lights now illuminated the earth.
"Eureka," he breathed, and felt the magic flow through his body. It felt like he'd downed a steaming cup of tea too quickly, only the warmth spread out from his core to every extremity. His eyes burned; he'd sworn they were shining until he'd triggered an activation in front of a mirror.
"Eidos," Adam whispered, and traced the tip of his finger around its circumference, the heat - the magic - pouring into the cup. Making it more, making it better, aligning itself with the epitome of its very essence. Opening his eyes, the man hooked a careful finger around the handle -
- And like the previous five, hurled it into the wall. Whereupon it, like the previous five whose shards lay scattered along the floor, it too shattered.
"Okay," Dory hurriedly put on his own pair of safety glasses. Which, really, he should have the moment he stepped into their magecraft practice room. "Hold on. Before you go again. Let's try something else." Adam had already opened his mouth when the other man held up a hand. "Different items, not a different exercise."
"The test is for a teacup," Adam growled. "I hurled a brick at your teacup and it bounced off. I am four days behind."
"Indy, you're not behind, promise. But, I have a suspicion on what's going screwy. I want to test my guess before I throw stuff at you."
"Reinforcement is supposed to be the most basic magic," Adam drew another slow, shuddering breath.
"Yes, because on a fundamental level it's taking your magical oomph and putting it into a thing. It's an exercise in controlling your magical energy, same way Structural Grasping is sensing magical energy. You're obviously using energy, and not enough to make the thing explode or distort, so you're not using too much. Again, let's try something other than a teacup."
This wasn't the first time he'd heard this. The theory behind Reinforcement was written down in blue-black ink in his notebook. He'd spoken with his Ruler several times about this issue, but the man was being even more cagey and arcane - Adam allowed himself a quick smirk at that thought - than normal.
"...fine," Adam sighed, before resting his forehead against the cool metal of the table he was seated at.
"Just a sec to find a good thing… ah, also, we're trying to learn how to Reinforce, not just how to Reinforce a teacup. Got it." There was a soft click as the thing was set onto the table. "Paperclip."
This was going to be another exercise in frustration, he could tell. But what the hell, it wasn't exactly like he was going to be getting any calmer with teacups.
It took him a full minute of controlled breathing before he felt comfortable activating his Circuits. Finally, when he was ready, he touched the inner half-loop of the paperclip.
"Eidos."
The white coating of paint around the clip burned away, leaving only bare, matte steel behind.
"... yeah, you're not 'Reinforcing' it in the normal way." Dory muttered, taking a slow breath before picking up the paperclip and bending it once, brow furrowed. It snapped back into place after a full rotation, "... it's something close. But it's not the usual."
"I'm literally doing what we were told," Adam sighed. "Using magic to bring an object closer to its ideal self."
"Ah. Kay. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I know what's going on here. One sec, I need to get a thing from Smith for demonstration purposes." The bearded man stood, lightly touching Adam's shoulder, "Be right back. I think I can help you figure out what's going weird here."
It wasn't like the others didn't have their own stumbling blocks. Ko was still trying to untangle her first attempt at a light spell with Socrates' help - apparently "pulling out all the shadows" from one of the room's corners was not the stuff illumination was made of. Spencer, having finally manifested a small mandala the size of his palm, was currently napping under a shock blanket due to overexertion.
It was just Adam's luck that his deficiency seemed to be in the most fundamental of the fundamentals. Seeing Ko try and fail once again to revert the corner's lighting without the Ruler wiping the spell clean, Adam felt compelled to try his own variation.
"Fos," he breathed, cupping his left hand, and a small ball of warm yellow light, the exact shade and hue of his childhood nightlight, appeared above it. A close of his hand, and a modicum of effort, and the light vanished.
At least he wasn't completely useless at magic.
Toby's struggles, meanwhile, had seemingly come to a head. Quite an explosive one, as he threw a beaker of water at the wall, and it boiled away into vapor in an instant.
"Fuck!" Which, given the expletive, was not his intention.
"Okay, gonna see if I can try to help with that after this."
Adam did not jump into the air and yelp. His chair, unfortunately, had coincidentally slipped at the worst time, and he'd been forced to jump up to prevent landing on his rear. Obviously.
He silently dared the returning Dory to claim differently. The bearded man was treading the edge of a smile.
Dory had brought with him a box, tucked under his arm, and in the same hand two small balls. "So, I have our demonstration materials." Holding out one between two fingers, a little blue thing, he offered it to Adam, "Try this. We'll compare, and work from there, okay?"
"Alright," Adam sighed. "You first, oh Master of Reinforcement."
"Pff. Master. Right. But, control." Holding up his own ball at the level of the table, Dory dropped the thing straight down and let the thing bounce before he caught it just a bit lower, then holding the thing up and squeezing it between two fingers. "Now, these are bouncy balls, with tons of stupid superlatives as you know. But for actual 'Reinforcement'?"
A slow breath. "Safeties off. Transfer."
Rainbow light washed down his hand in lines before touching the ball between his fingers, making it glow briefly before it faded.
This time when he dropped the ball, from the same height, it bounced up nearly to their shoulders, and the bearded man had to lean out to catch the thing before it got too far away. This time when he squeezed it between his fingers, there was no give. "Now, a 'Reinforced ball', at least the way I'm doing it. Yourself, o' walker of strange ways?"
"Eidos."
Surprisingly enough, his ball performed just as well as Dory's, only it gave more when he squeezed it afterwards. Admittedly, he might have overdone it with his - the thing was now streaked with swirls of baby blue and turquoise, like some strange and distant planet.
"Yeah. I thought so. What you're doing? Isn't 'Reinforcement' in the 'basic bitch exercise' sense. You're technically doing what… well, I'm pretty sure it'd be called Transmutation, might be Alteration, but you're not 'just' moving your magical energy around. You're not just taking your energy and adding it to the thing, you're making it conceptually more that thing. Teacups are fragile. A paperclip keeps being a paperclip. Bouncy balls bounce."
"Yes," he said slowly. "I'm doing Reinforcement. Which when Socrates demonstrated, could make the teacup sturdier. And still be more of a teacup."
Another thought struck him. "Wait you just… poured your energy into that ball with no purpose? How would that even work? Like, if you wanted to do it physically, you'd have to imagine a million different tiny springs, or…."
Dory burst out laughing before covering his mouth and waving a hand, "Wha-hahaha-what? Ah, no, hah, one sec. Train of thought hit a cow there. What. Ha! Right. Mm. Okay, yes, I'm 'just' pouring my energy into it. That's what pure Reinforcement is-"
"That sounds highly unstable. Like making a bomb."
Dory sighed. "If you overcharge it or try to put energy in places that it shouldn't be, it can explode. But, Reinforcement is mostly an exercise in just moving your energy. You've bypassed that step. You're technically doing a more complex bit of magic. For more basic Reinforcement, when you add your energy into the system, you're not doing it without purpose, you're filling in the cracks, the little gaps and spaces, you're building a sort of scaffolding in the physical object to make it better at what it is."
"...Okay," Adam nodded. "I can see how that would make a teacup stronger, if you physics'd out the ideal scaffolding for the object. But for the ball, that still sounds like you need springs - or in general, some kind of physical mechanism for that approach."
"Not really but kinda? The visualization is important for higher levels. Speaking of which, what's your Element? That might make it easier to figure out a more 'default' Reinforcement rather than skipping over it like you are."
Adam shrugged. "Dunno."
Dory blinked, "Huh? Was it not on your sheet?"
"It was blacked out."
"I'm… surprised? Your Origin would've been, sure, but… why was your Element?"
"For the same reason?" Adam ventured. Origins were the fundamental basis of the soul; human nature being what it was, one could go against it. Actually learning about one's own Origin was dangerous because it made it far harder to do so. His fiancée knowing hers was apparently cause for major concern.
Dory shot a glance over at Toby's station, and immediately looked thankful that the Nasuverse nerd was out of the room getting more materials. "Not really? Elements aren't dangerous to know, they're more… a property of the circuits, how your soul interfaces with the world around you and all that. Knowing what that is, it's… on a certain level, you've got to visualize all of your magic through it."
Adam shrugged. "According to Socrates, I should try to approach magic naturally, and try to be free of any preconceptions during my visualizations-"
Dory choked a little.
"-and that any average magus should be able to do it."
"... Indy, that makes me want to punch Socrates." The other man's fists had briefly clenched into fists, "Because that's a good way to get yourself hurt or dead."
Right on cue, Adam could feel the Ruler's presence behind him.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, rhetorically.
"No," Dory snapped out. "Because you let him think something that could get him hurt."
"What was that delightful phrase that was quoted during our first dialogue?"
"Yeah. Bite me. Not playing that when you can give him better tools to not get hurt." Dory turned back to Indy, "Okay, magic beyond your means can kill you, or just hurt you real bad."
"I'm aware of that," Adam said, feeling a bit patronized. "Unlike some of us-" he flicked his eyes at Toby, who had returned with a fresh pair of beakers, thermometers, and an electric kettle. "I haven't gone experimenting. I've stuck very firmly to the curriculum and not tried to get ahead."
Dory paused, collecting himself, "Yes. And my point is that your Element–"
"-will currently only serve to limit him," Socrates stated. "You all think of me as a teacher, but I am more akin to a midwife, albeit one of the soul and not the body. The triumph of my art is in thoroughly examining whether the thought which the mind of the young man brings forth is a false idol, or a noble and true birth. The prescriptions given to one expecting twins differs from one expecting in the winter or one for whom no truly remarkable conditions are expected."
"... you're basically just saying to trust you and I really can't after a second instance of you pointing him in a blatantly dangerous direction." Dory threw up a hand. "What's next, telling him to go to the gym and just 'figure out' the machines? To go up to a-"
Adam cleared his throat. "Thank you. Both of you. I am right here."
"Sorry." Dory said immediately, contrite.
"Is Socrates doing cult shit?" Ko called from across the room. "Do we need to hit him with sticks?"
"Kinda maybe!" Dory called back.
"Well keep me posted!"
"Will do!"
As nice as it was that they cared, Adam was feeling highly condescended to at the moment.
"Socrates." Adam stated flatly. "Is what I'm doing - what I believe to be Reinforcement - the traditional art of it?"
The Ruler's answer was immediate. "No."
"How much trouble would I have had with the traditional way?"
That one took a bit longer. "I could not say," he admitted. "But given the course of your own natural aptitudes - and the objections you have raised to the approach your friend - whose concern for you is esteemable -"
Dory flipped him off.
"- I would venture a not inconsiderable amount."
"And my not knowing my Element?"
"...if I were to say that a man is quick to anger, before you were to meet him, you would approach him with this opinion in mind." The First Philosopher pursed his lips. "But perhaps he is quick to anger not because of an imbalance in humors, but out of a love of justice, and to treat him gingerly would be to do disservice to the both of you."
"And my problem with that, is that it's less a man he's not told you about, and more a mountain lion. Twice now." Dory gestured angrily at the older man even if his tone was more controlled now. "Even if the curriculum so far wouldn't have you provoking the cat. He has blatantly not mentioned the claws or teeth or even that it's a carnivore. That's why I'm mad."
"It is neither a man nor a mountain lion," Socrates countered. "But the nature of a soul-"
"You used a metaphor." This time Dory pointed at him angrily. "Do not give me crap for using one as well. Make your argument properly damnit."
"Then consider your own educations. Tell me: which subject were you most praised for?"
Dory's face twisted a bit before he threw up a hand in frustration. "Math and writing."
"Let us use math then. When you first began, were you taught the axioms of mathematics?"
Dory's confusion only deepened. "... kinda but not really?"
"Then perhaps the theorems and proofs which are derived from these axioms?"
"That's closer, sure?"
"Or perhaps some specific cases and peripheral rules - tools which could be manipulated within a closed setting? That is to say, arithmetic regarding certain numbers."
"Okay, I get more where you're going, but I still don't like it because I feel your metaphor breaks down," his hand shot up to forestall any comments, "But I'll need some time to think it through to figure out that point. But continue your metaphor, at very least for his understanding."
Adam groaned. "We start math with very simple, basic operations, restricted to a small subset of natural numbers," he said, cutting both of them off. "And from there build up to more complex sets using those operations, then different operations, and eventually we abandon numbers altogether. Eventually, we move into the manipulation of number-sets and build towards the core axioms of the subject, from which we can truly derive and understand why the fuck 1+1=2."
"Quite so!" Socrates nodded.
"My Element is therefore one of these axioms, or a theorem or property that the magical equivalent of arithmetic isn't well-equipped to understand," the man continued. "So it isn't one of the classical five. Not surprising, by the way - Dory's got the most typical Element and it's still atypical among mages."
An old memory resurfaced in his mind.
"...I was ten years old, and I'd just learned about decimals," Adam mused. "Thinking about it on the drive back, I told my dad that the distance between any two numbers was infinite. And therefore, that the distance between zero and one and one to infinity were the same." He chuckled. "I never formally learned about the magnitudes of infinity even as a graduate student. And he was an accountant, not a mathematician. We just pulled into the garage and that was that. If I'd said those words to a proper teacher, who knows what'd have happened."
"The metaphor misses out on the physicality of the process and the risk of physical harm. It also doesn't explain or excuse the Counter Force stuff." Dory said, glaring at Socrates, "Philosophical understandings of the stuff are great, and important for magic. But… I can't articulate it well, but this is the second time he's pointed you at a weight, told you to lift it, and gave you zero idea that trying to pick something too heavy up can permanently injure you."
"Hardly," Adam pointed out. "I was told to prove the Counter Force's existence - which is something all of you take for granted-"
"Indy!" Dory was exasperated with him, clearly, "I don't take it for granted. I just haven't put it on my priority list to understand, because it's dangerous."
"-As fact, then. You came to this universe and already knew for certain that it existed. I did not, and I was not going to take it on faith. I attempted to describe, precisely, what the Force would require as I understood them. Before I made any meaningful progress, the man you identified as an agent of the Counter Force destroyed my notes."
He had to chuckle again.
"Did you know that I sold my soul once?"
"That can actually happen here." Dory deadpanned.
"Not here - back home. In undergrad - it was a philosophical point. We even drew up a contract: my soul for a bottle of… fuck I can't remember the exact bottle, it was a 15 dollar white wine. I never got that wine - my friend's dog ate the contract, and he took that as a sign." He sighed nostalgically. "History doesn't repeat, but it does rhyme… my point is, I now understand the Counter Force exists and that it shouldn't be messed with. Which is where you lot started, but I had to get there my own way."
Dory did not appear any calmer, but instead of continuing to argue, the man merely sighed, shrugging, "... this feels like a second time of being told to fuck off for worrying about the risks he's thrown at you."
"Do you worry that Scathach is going to kill Ko?" Adam asked flatly.
"Kill? No. Hurt? Yes." There was more than a bit of heat to the last word before he caught himself. "I joined the training. And no, I doubt he'll get you killed. But I seriously worry about shit like this getting you permanently hurt."
There wasn't much to say after that. Sighing, Adam turned back to the teacups, his eyes passing over them as if he were seeing them for the first time. Dimly and far away, he could hear Dory and Socrates continue to bicker.
Teacups were fragile, delicate things - he'd never really felt comfortable using them. But because he was a self-admitted tea fanatic….
"Eidos!"
This time, the teacup bounced off the wall, rolling back to rest at Dory's feet. The man picked it up - the only sign of its abuse was a small dent in its side.
"...A teacup," Adam nodded sagely. "Is just a shitty travel mug."
Furiko
The first fitting had been about as tense as she'd expected. Fionn hadn't exactly helped the atmosphere with his constant opinions about her dress (more embroidery and lace), hair (more braids), jewelry (more more) and flowers (a lavender-wreath crown that reeked of old lady soap). They were lucky Medea hadn't thrown both of them out on their asses.
At least the dress was coming along nicely, and much quicker than anticipated - the Caster did good work, it was undeniable. It wasn't quite as reusable as Indy's ideal wedding dress for her would probably be, but he wasn't paying for it and he wasn't wearing it, so he had no room to complain.
… hm. Fionn may or may not be a bad influence on her.
And now her Lancer had taken his leave to resume the broffensive - apparently today he was going to suggest a Guitar Hero session with Dory and William Tell as a social buffer.
Half of Ko was starting to feel a little bad for Indy. The other half wanted pictures.
She was just debating whether to hit the Simulator or just go watch a movie in the rec room when she heard rapidly-approaching eurobeat music and the building thrum of an engine.
-gojuunen, geten no uchi wo kurabureba-
Newly-drilled instincts had her dive backward into a roll even as brakes screeched in front of her. Reaching behind her for a spear that wasn't there, Ko saw, crowded against the walls of Chaldea in the passageway ahead, the side of an eye-scorching pink party bus, black-bordered kanji emblazoned across it in a calligraphy-inspired font. No- kanji and katakana.
Otoyome-mo-bii-ru… Bridemobile?!
There was only a moment to take all that in before one of its windows opened, and Spencer leaned out.
"Ko help!" he yelped over the pulsing beat and the chatter of whoever else was on the bus. "They want me to sing and the karaoke machine is in Japanes-!"
A slim hand caught her friend around the mouth and effortlessly yanked him back inside. A delighted peal of laughter rang out, like a sudden rainfall on a hot day, and the doors of the bus unshuttered to reveal a petite Japanese woman wearing a warm smile, a flowing red cape, and a strangely familiar peaked cap.
"Get in, bitch!" she exclaimed, still laughing and reaching out with a white-gloved hand. "We're sacking Rome!"
Andoriol | Jacob
New Orleans looked like a tourist trap, sounded like a tourist trap, and smelled like a swamp-based tourist trap.
Bright, almost garish colors made up a lot of the buildings, well placed plants or food carts or similar, tons of small opportunities to spend frivolous amounts of money on overcosted trinkets or souvenirs, the chatter of various languages and accents and clearly out of place people among service members, overly cleaned streets where the only detritus were leaves and confetti and similar.
And beer cups that missed the trash can at the late, late hour of one in the afternoon.
It clearly had history to it, layers of architectural design and care that weren't as constructed or deliberately slapped together the way artificial 'history' was made in places like Disney. People in blatantly out of place outfits, obvious sunblock, 'Nawlins' merchandise, and overly loud people, tourists were everywhere. Various spices and scents of various maillard reactions danced through the air, fried foods, cayenne peppers and chilis roasting or boiling, breads and pastries baking, lemon on shellfish, sugars caramelizing… it was all over an undercurrent of good ole' hydrogen sulfide from the swamp, but it was a subtler, familiar smell for the Floridian.
"Where do you think we should go first?" Ritsuka asked his current partner.
Glancing down at the printed mapquest directions and at the actual map, Jacob could only grin at Ritsuka. "Well I know what we're getting first."
"What?"
"Hurricanes~" the older man said in a sing-song tone, heading towards the most garish tiki bar in sight - not that he'd expected to see any of them in New Orleans.
Leaning up against the counter, he pointed at the bartender with a cheerful smile, "Could I get a hurricane please?"
"Any glass in particular?"
"The ridiculous pink one with the fleur de lis on it, please." Looking back over his shoulder, he asked, "Anything you want in particular?"
"Ah, it's alcohol?" Ritsuka asked.
"Hurricanes are, as is most of what they sell, yes."
"Ah, I shouldn't drink again," The teen said sheepishly. "I'm underage."
"I believe you're overreacting, but I respect it and wasn't referring to that overall. If we're walking all day you're going to want something cold to stay hydrated in this humidity." Gesturing at the rack of variously colored glasses behind the bar. "Also? Fancy glasses you get to keep!" A glance back to the bartender, "I'm covering his glass."
"Ah. Well, um… a, ano… strawberry daiquiri? The no-alcohol version?"
"Virgin-" Dory noticed a slight flinch on Ritsuka's part. "-daiquiri for my friend please." He turned back to the aforementioned teen. "Which glass?"
"Um, that one, please?" Ritsuka pointed at a milder glass somewhere between purple and bubblegum pink.
The bartender nodded with a smile, grabbing the drinks and mixers and getting to work.
While the caucasian man hadn't gone for an outfit quite as loud as Ritsuka's hawaiian shirt, he'd admittedly gone full tourist as well. Big straw hat to protect against the sun, loose button up T-shirt, cargo pants, sandals and socks. A crime against fashion for the ages, but there was no way he'd be able to come across as native, especially working with Ritsuka, so might as well go hard into the equally invisible 'actually polite tourist'.
"To answer your original question, we do have Mapquest directions, even if they're focused on vehicle traffic rather than foot traffic." Holding up the sheet of paper in a hand he glanced over it again, "I didn't see any obvious opportunities to cut through alleys on purpose. So absent anything that catches our eyes, I think we just follow the directions."
"Card?" The request came from the bar, and the man had to fumble with his fold out wallet to pass the pieces of plastic across the counter to be run.
Blue eyes glared at the boy's own copy of the directions. "I agree. I'm just glad the streets are labeled."
Jacob's own green eyes blinked before he nodded thoughtfully. "Huh, yeah, what with Rome and all that stuff. Yeah, makes sense to me."
A soft clink was the indicator that the glasses had been finished and set out for them alongside his cards. Both of them with a long straw and a pair of cherries, with the same color of drink inside.
"Uh…?"
The bartender waved it off with a smile, her teeth gleaming. "Hey don't worry, I didn't charge you for it and did a light pour for his. Just tell your bud to live a little! Laissez les bons temps rouler!"
Laughter bubbled up in his throat as he picked up his drink. "Alright. Fine."
Ritsuka wasn't as enthused, letting out a nervous chuckle, but ultimately accepted it.
"Mashu is going to be mad at me again…"
"You're not going to get drunk from one of these," the older yet slightly shorter of the pair said gently before leaning in conspiratorially, "That, and you can blame it on me."
An honest if little amused snort escaped the japanese teen as the pair continued on their way, following the printed directions.
He'd forgotten how nice hurricanes were, little bit of fire with the fruit and sweetness. Jacob hummed happily to himself, keeping an eye on the street names and enjoying the sights and sound of humanity around them. The various masters had been split up to better grab as many things as they could. Ritsuka and Jacob had volunteered for the big, general food and supply runs, to make passes through various restaurant stores.
Jacob hefted the stack of five-pound boxes of crawfish. "Ten right?"
A quick glance over it from his companion got a nod, "Looks right."
"Who even ordered this many?" He asked, putting them into the basket. Crawfish were nice, but not something he expected to need fifty pounds of.
"Doctor Roman, actually."
"Huh."
Toby knew the local specialties the best, which meant he was best suited to search for specific stuff, accompanied by Xiang Yu both to keep him safe, as well as for Toby to wrangle the ancient warlord. While that happened, Indy and Ko had gone out for more general stuff as well as taking the chance to go shopping for the upcoming wedding. Spence, knowing nothing about 'foreign cities', had been sent on an ATM run with the company black card. Smith made hard currency rather useful to the organization now.
While the pair were meandering their way towards their second stop, Ritsuka spoke up, "Ano, Jacob-san?"
"Mm?" Jacob paused, lowering his drink.
"What's something you like?"
"You mean aside from just how ridiculously convenient these bags are?" Jacob grinned at Ritsuka, bouncing the standard-issue da Vinci-approved duffle bag of holding on his shoulder. "Do you want me to try and narrow it down or should I get an itemized list?"
Ritsuka smiled back. "A rough idea would be nice."
"Cooking, eating, exercising, writing, theorizing about weird stuff." The paler man ticked off on his fingers of his free hand before turning back. "Could probably come up with more stuff, given some time."
"I see," Ritsuka said after taking another sip. "And what about your-"
"Hold up," Jacob cut him off, pointing at his companion, "Your turn."
"Ah, well…" he hesitated in his steps before smiling, "It's nice to have someone else to carry this stuff?"
"Hah! Touché. But seriously."
"Eto…" Ritsuka took a sip of his drink. "Promise to not laugh?"
"I promise to not make you feel bad about liking something."
"W-well… I really like ma- mecha anime."
Jacob's face lit up. "Always a good option! I haven't been able to keep up to date at all. The last ones I got to see properly were G-Gundam and Gundam Wing. What's been the big ones recently?"
Ritsuka brightened up considerably. "Wow, you are old! Ah, wait, I mean -"
"Hah! Not incorrect." Jacob gestured for the teen to continue in spite of the interruption.
"The latest one is a spinoff of SSSSyberforge...."
The two of them continued in that vein for a while, Jacob learning about new or maybe timeline specific mecha anime. Super, Real, and Otherwise Robots, while the older man gushed about some of his favorites like Macross or Gundam Wing. Managing to do so even as they gathered the next round of food and materials. Cold stuff in the duffle bags, non-perishables into their backpacks.
But the conversation did trail off eventually, Jacob grabbing another set of drinks. One of the perks of a tourist trap is that there were many chances to be trapped and top off the teetotallers. Handing the younger man his own refilled drink, Jacob popped the cherries into his mouth as they began walking down the street.
Humming quietly, Ritsuka asked, "What's something you dislike?"
Jacob made a little thoughtful noise, jaw working around the cherries and stems, "Mm." Taking a moment, he pulled the stem out, sadly un-tied. It'd been too long since he'd learned to do that and he wanted to get back into practice.
The younger of the pair waited patiently for him to flick away the stem into a bush.
"Well. Cruelty. Mostly. Racism and similar drives me up a wall." Jacob tilted his head to the side consideringly. "I try pretty hard not to hate things much so it's mostly little irritations. You?"
"I feel pretty positive about life." When his companion raised his eyebrows at him, Ritsuka reluctantly added, "I guess I never want to work in retail again…"
"Oh god yeah." A pained laugh-shudder went through Jacob. "Interacting with The Public day in and day out. Ew."
Ritsuka's shoulders sagged in visible relief. "Oh thank goodness someone understands. So many of the staff are magi, even the lower income ones don't know what it's like."
"I want to see the manager." Jacob said with a perfect huff, one hand waving dismissively.
"Ma'am, I am the manager." Ritsuka answered instantly, his accent somewhere closer to British than his usual Japanese, voice an exhausted baritone.
Jacob giggled, even if this had confirmed something he'd suspected, given how good at small talk the kid was, "Oh it pains my soul. Okay. Lay it on me. Worst customer."
"An entire twenty-strong tour group from Shanghai came in fifteen minutes before closing." Ritsuka had on a thousand-yard stare, but it seemed a little forced. "All of them thought pantomime was a universal language, and none of them wanted to pay sticker price."
"Oh, oh man. You might have me beat then. Mine's a smaller group, restaurant rather than retail, but they were the worst. Two adults, maybe a bit older than me, and two little toddlers in a booth. Kids towards the wall, parents out. Middle of after-church rush in a breakfast place."
"Pardon me," Ritsuka interrupted, "'after-church' rush?"
Jacob nodded, having realized it just as he said it. "Basically a line out the door and every seat filled. They ran me ragged. Back and forth from the stations and that table eight or nine times in a minute. Every time asking if there was anything else I could get them, nothin'. Bring them the thing, all of a sudden 'We need this.' They were rude. Mean. Interrupted me running other food. Actively grabbed my arm to stop me to get refills. And at the end? The toddlers' seats? Basically spotless. Parents? I didn't get that booth cleaned until after lunch."
Ritsuka winced audibly. "Is that right?"
"Jam on the carpet, honey on the seats, eggs and pancake and syrup basically everywhere." The older of the pair ticked things off on his fingers as they entered the next store on their list, "They were so bad, other tables that weren't mine stopped me to tip me for having to handle them."
"Wait, is that why Americans give tips?" Ritsuka asked in surprise.
And so they continued, Ritsuka and him exchanging horror stories of terrible customers, but also the gems, the little delights like a man Jacob had served that had just given him a nice hat he'd complimented him on honestly, or the backpacking friendgroup of Kiwis who'd been so eager to practice their Japanese with a fellow otaku they'd bought him lunch when his shift ended. Soon enough another stop was knocked off the list, even the da Vinci originals starting to have some actual weight to them.
The kid adjusted his duffel bag with a practiced motion in one of the quiet moments, letting it settle under his backpack for extended carry. A trick Jacob had yet to master, though the weight didn't particularly bother him.
Jacob tossed some of the remaining ice into his mouth from his cup as the teen prompted into the comfortable silence, "What would you do with a Holy Grail?"
"Mm. Haven't thought on it much yet. Usually not big on wishes." He shrugged. "Paranoia always has me worried that there's gonna be a caveat or a catch or some shit. I'll figure it out. I mean… we're gonna have a lot of them, as well as fragments and pieces of them for smaller forms of wishcraft… you have any fun ideas?" He looked to Ritsuka questioningly.
"I… I don't know," the kid admitted. "Roman and da Vinci are the ones actually in charge of their use…"
"That's entirely fair." They'd have to figure out what to do with them anyways though.
Soon enough, Jacob had stopped at another refill spot. "Would you like another?"
Having been dragged into the building by social mores, the dark-haired teen shuffled in place. "Ano, what is a Hurricane…?"
"Rum drink I believe?" Jacob asked the bartender.
"Rum, passion fruit and orange juice with a bit of lime."
"Thanks. That. One for me though, definitely."
Ritsuka hesitated, fiddling with his empty glass.
"You do not have to," Jacob said gently. "If you don't like how it makes you feel after a point or are at all concerned, just stop. Hell, this is gonna be the last for me today."
"I just don't want Mashu to hate me," the kid said, hunching his shoulders self-consciously.
Jacob couldn't help himself; he snorted, before immediately waving to banish it. "Sorry, sorry, that probably came across bad. Just… trust me. This is one of those 'obvious from the outside' things." He paused, thinking on how to put it. "I don't want to put words in her mouth, but honestly? She's probably got a huge crush on you. Worth asking her out."
The older man was treated to the sight of the teen lighting up like a christmas tree, and then shuffling in place. "I- I don't know."
"It's something to think on, at least."
Adam | Indy
"What do you think?"
Ko thrust out a pair of off-white lace swatches that, at least to his eyes, were identical. One of them had a slightly different pattern to it than the other, but he wasn't sure if the vaguely-floral clusters of two-inch fractals were fundamentally different from the three-inch.
"Uh…."
He was not trying to channel Sitcom Dad energy, but the differences were very slight. Adam was absolutely certain that either one would look fantastic on her; that was the fundamental issue. His fiancée's wedding dress needed to be perfect for her, and only "not god-awful" in his eyes.
But she was still looking at him though as if his preference existed, so he had to come up with something to say that wouldn't turn him into Homer Simpson.
"Too 'grandma's tablecloth'?" she asked, the wind going out of her sails a little bit.
"No," he said slowly. "Just… ah… what happened to black?"
When they'd been planning for a more traditional ceremony - or rather, a ceremony that would not be attended by the Ghosts of Heroes Past - she'd talked up the idea of having a black wedding dress. Adam had been strongly in favor of that idea - not only was Ko more comfortable in black, but it also meant that they didn't need to buy another dress for formal occasions when she wasn't the star of the show.
His tuxedo - sadly, lost in the next universe over - had been able to do that. Hers should too, dammit. What was the point of spending money for quality formalwear if you could only wear the thing once?
"... it's a little grim, under the circumstances, don't you think?" she asked rhetorically, wincing just a bit. "It's like with the lighting."
She had been very into lamps recently - Smith had even had to ask him what a 'color-changing El-E-Dee' was. Apparently Chaldea looked too 'sterile' for Ko's tastes - honestly, he didn't think it was that bad. A pair of good, bright rugs had done wonders for their room. There was no need to get all cinematographic with it - especially since his lady had cheered upon realizing there was no way this wedding was getting filmed. Chaldea had lost many people in the attack, but they'd never had a cameraman to begin with.
"I want…" she trailed off, before finally admitting: "I kind of want to pull off a con, here."
One of the fabric shop's attendants looked up from her work and then went right back to it very quickly.
"I want everyone to have a good time and forget where we are," she clarified, "and why. That's why I kicked up such a fuss about the bamboo folding screens, earlier; I'm trying to redefine a utilitarian space for frivolous purposes. I don't want this to be 'oh, the poor dears, they couldn't have a real wedding', I want this to be 'ha! remember the Zieglers' wedding? That was crazy.'"
"I get that," Adam acknowledged, because he knew the importance of a good distraction in the face of impending doom. "At the same time… I think everybody already wants to be conned. So to speak. This is our wedding - they're just invited." He decided to go for a joke. "Mostly because it's their base and we're outnumbered. But dear - just get the things you want to get and let everyone else - besides me - deal with it."
"Including your new Warhams buddy?" she asked drolly. "I mean, she's the reason we're here instead of at a dress shop, after all."
Adam blinked. "Are… are you... jealous?" he furrowed his brow, knowing that wasn't the right descriptor at all. "Because-"
"Do you not remember what happened to the last woman Medea made a dress for?" Ko asked, eyes wide in sudden alarm.
He was not going to admit that his knowledge of that particular Greek myth was extremely vague and hazy. "Are we also going to be concerned that the Betrayer of Camelot is going to lead all of our Servants in a revolutionary uprising and put Dory's head on a spike? Ritz vouches for her, you people didn't blink about any of the other doers of terrible deeds - like the multiple pirates or Vlad the Goddamn Fucking Fuck You the Impaler - being around."
"I didn't shoot any of their exes-that-they-have-lingering-yandere-impulses-toward-because-Aphrodite-always-gets-her-cut in the head," Ko rattled off in a single breath.
"... fair," he conceded, because, well, Ko did do that. "But she made it very clear to me that she doesn't take what happened in Okeanos as having happened to her. And from all the projects she had in her room… she needed to make something meaningful."
Ko didn't say anything to that, just stared at him with a small smile on her face.
"What?" He might have sounded just a little indignant.
She hugged his arm.
"Oooh," he said, skin pleasantly abuzz with the sensation. Surreptitiously, he flipped one of the bundles in Ko's arms so that it wasn't in danger of touching the floor.
"You're a good friend," she said, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder.
She made such a big deal about the things he did. Adam knew that he was pretty oblivious, socially; there was a lot that went over his head when he wasn't paying attention. That made it all the more important to note the things he did notice.
"It was purely selfish," he insisted. "You get a made-to-measure dress, and I get a tuxedo even nicer than the one I left behind. Win-win-win for everyone. That's it."
"I reserve the right to have Finn on hand as in-house poison control for the first fitting," Ko mumbled into his shirt.
"Only until he makes an inappropriate comment," he responded instantly.
"Agreed," she said, pulling away again. "For the record, I had a chat with him about this whole 'trying to befriend you' thing and-"
Adam blinked. "Is that what he's been doing?"
"I still can't tell if it's a scam or not," she warned. "Like, I think he's being sincere, but that's kind of how gaslighting works, isn't it."
Adam didn't have a response to that.
"Look, man," she said with a sigh, "you're the one who told me standard male friendship involves ribbing and invitations to do stupid shit together, I'm working off half a playbook at best, here."
Adam threw his hands up helplessly. "He invited me to sack! Rome!"
He realized, belatedly, that he'd shouted that. The store clerk from earlier was staring, and probably wondering whether to start livetweeting.
"And you said no?!" Ko hissed incredulously. "Dude!"
"Dear we are not sacking Rome on our honeymoon." Adam felt compelled to put his foot down. "Do you know how much energy it takes to Rayshift? You can't just… go into a Singularity for frivolous reasons."
She pouted, and went back to comparing lace samples.
"... maybe I'll wear red," she said after a moment, setting down both of the off-white. "It's good luck, after all."
"Ching Shih would approve," Adam said, nodding. He could see his own bundle of navy and black sitting neatly wrapped behind the counter. "...she isn't marrying us, right?"
There were only so many people with marrying authority in Chaldea. No clergy - and even if Jeanne had considered herself a saint, neither of them were Catholic. So that left ship captains; Spencer - whose pursuit of useless qualifications had gotten him ordained in the 'Universal Life Church'; and kings, which -
If she even hinted at Finn-
"Oh, I asked Dr Roman. He's still thinking about it, but I'm cautiously optimistic."
"Huh." That made sense, kind of. Given that all that was left of humanity outside the Singularities was Chaldea, and Roman was in charge of Chaldea, by the transitive property, that meant that the doctor was, technically, the ruler of all humanity.
Adam resolved not to bring this up to the beleaguered redhead. The man wasn't the type who took to authority well.
"Yeah, we really shouldn't have let Spence go off alone," Ko said abruptly, for what felt like the tenth time since they left the rendez-vous. "It's too much money for one person to be carrying around, especially from bank to bank without a car."
Adam sighed, and kissed her nose. "Spencer is the only one of us who's even started on hypnosis. He's probably safer than we are."
"I mean, I guess it could be worse," she said, pulling him back up the aisle toward the silk samples. "We could've sent Xiang Yu with him."
Bennett
"Fine music, good sir!" Xiang Yu boomed, drawing the eyes of many a passer-by and an almost full-body cringe from Bennett. "It truly awakens the soul!"
"Yes yes you've said that to all five of the corner jazz routines can we just move?" Bennett knew it was fairly futile to try and get an absolute behemoth like Xiang Yu to move by shoving him, but that didn't stop him from nudging the man towards the curb with his free elbow, since tapping on the sidewalk with his cane had already failed. Lookie-loos in New Orleans were a fright to deal with, because there may as well have been a street performer on every single damn corner.
In fact, there had been a street performer on every corner so far. And on several of these streets? More than one.
"Ah, Bennett, am I not to enjoy all of the splendor that life offers?" The Rider spread his arms and motioned at the city around them, abuzz with noise, music, life, people.
"You are," Bennett hedged. "But you can do it quietly, I'd hope? You stand out enough already without yelling about this and that on every street corner. And? I think you're scaring the locals."
Xiang Yu paused briefly, considering what he'd been told. Bennett, meanwhile, took the chance to start moving north across Canal Street and towards the French Quarter. He didn't get very far ahead of the Rider, who caught up to him in the middle of the crosswalk.
"You move as though you know the lay of the land," Xiang Yu said to him, though thankfully at a more reasonable volume. "You have barely glanced upon the maps we were given."
"You missed when I said it, but I lived here for four years," Bennett explained as the two of them followed Decatur into the French Quarter proper. And beyond just explaining that he'd lived here, he lookedthe part too, with a 2010 Saint's t-shirt, exercise shorts, and tennis shoes. "Went to Tulane University. You saw the tracks where we crossed Canal Street?"
"Indeed," Xiang Yu said. "For a… train, they were called?"
"Normally yes, but this is for a trolley car," Bennett said. He pointed with his cane off to their left. "Follow the tracks thattaway a couple miles, you'd get to my alma mater. Decent enough school, but the social life revolved around the party scene far too much - when some people make a game of parking lawn chairs on the quad to count the people coming back from one-night-stands every day of the week, you know it's a little out of hand."
"And yet despite this, you hold fond feelings for this city," Xiang Yu observed as they crossed another street. The Servant paused in his step as they passed yet another jazz musician, this one playing the flute, but Bennett inwardly cheered when he simply dropped some coin or another into the man's open music case and continued on.
"Part of it, I suppose." Bennett offered a shrug. "New Orleans is a foodie's paradise. Some of the stuff you get here? You will never find its like anywhere else, at all. Speaking of!" He stopped in front of a store, and pulled the door open for himself and Xiang Yu. "Here's our first stop."
Twenty minutes (and a sated Xiang Yu) later the two of them left the Southern Candymakers store at Decatur and Conti, laden with the first major request on multiple staff members' lists: pralines. Tons, and tons, of pralines. While they weren't as good as the French variety (if you asked Bernadotte at least, and though Yolande had agreed, the other Boisbleu twin held the opposite opinion), they were still in high demand by Chaldea's staff. Bennett couldn't really see it, but he also just wasn't a fan of nut products. To each their own, he supposed.
The point was, they walked out of the store with nearly ten pounds of pralines, and as Bennett perused the rest of the list, he prayed that whatever magecraft they'd come up with to preserve this stuff worked as advertised.
… this was a concern he would not be voicing, because he wasn't going to risk getting a thumping from da Vinci for questioning her work. Nope, absolutely not.
"So based on what else we have on the list…" Bennett finally pulled out the map printout he'd been given, and scanned both it and the shopping list at the same time. "It would actually be better if we loop around the French Quarter and hook back down this same street on our way back."
"How so?" Xiang Yu extended a hand, and Bennett handed over the map and list. "That would complicate the route, would it not?"
"It would, yes. But it also gives us a chance to get off our feet and treat ourselves to something on the way back." He offered Xiang Yu a conspiratorial grin. "If we're in the French Quarter, we are getting Cafe du Monde for ourselves too, and we're getting it fresh."
"Fascinating." Xiang Yu gestured forwards. "And your proposed gift that I bring back for my wife is…"
"Foodstuffs, yes," Bennett muttered, then sighed. "Look. Your wife has been around for literally thousands of years. She doesn't need money, she doesn't want for necessities, and she probably couldn't care less about random tchotchkes. But all the money and Adam Smiths in the world can't get her something that can only be found in one place, and isn't purely a consumer good. So we're bringing her back things that you can only get if you actually come down here to New Orleans."
"A wise choice," Xiang Yu agreed affably. "And… you did not insult my wife with that answer."
Bennett opened his mouth to respond, but immediately thought better of it. Instead, he composed his thoughts for a second before finally saying something. "I'm… gonna go out on a limb and say you were expecting me to."
"There was a 91.43 percent chance of your doing so, yes. Naturally, I would be obligated to inform you of the consequences of doing so again. Should I inform you anyway?"
The Rider had not changed his tone or body language at all; he still seemed genuinely friendly, his question as if to clarify some past point of confusion.
Of course, this was also the man who massacred his way through ancient China for the sole purpose of making himself The Bad Guy, because his supercomputer brain said it was the most reasonable course of action.
"Uh… yeah, no thank you I'd rather you not," Bennett said as quickly as possible. "In fact, how about we either skip right past that point or change topics to something—"
"—Bennett!" Roman's voice was practically shouting in his ear, despite coming from the band on his wrist. One of the passersby flipped him off, shooting Bennett a dirty look. "We're reading a Spirit Origin in your vicinity!"
Beside him, Xiang Yu shifted, his entire bearing changing in a fraction of an instant. Before, he had been menacing behind a thick veneer of friendliness. But now, all of that amiability melted away to show the truly vicious side of the Servant, ready for blood and madness at a moment's notice.
At the same time, Bennett's thoughts started to race. A Spirit Origin showing up in a location that, to the best of anyone's knowledge, hadn't had one yet. He looked to the Servant beside him, and wondered for a moment if perhaps he was to blame for this sudden appearance.
"What can you tell me?" Bennett asked, holding his hand as though there was a phone in it, even as he spoke into his wrist.
"It's definitely not a group of enemy wyverns," Roman conceded. "It resembles a Servant, but it's not… dense enough, I'd say. We also picked up a weird fluctuation on the signal; I'm not sure if it was a one-off, or an inherent property thereof."
"What of Class container?" Xiang Yu asked. "What is the nature of our foe?"
"I wish I could tell you, but it's uncertain." Bennett could almost see the apologetic expression he knew was probably on Roman's face right now. "It's difficult to tell, but it appears most similar to one of the Knight classes."
Bennett's hunch had been growing as Roman spoke, but that last little bit of information clinched it.
"How far are we from the Spirit Origin?"
"Approximately five hundred meters straight ahead of you," Roman said. Bennett looked up the street, frowning as he thought to himself.
"... Doc, are you telling me the Spirit Origin is at Cafe du Monde?"
"I, uh, don't know?" Roman's tone was apologetic, "I've never been there."
Bennett looked up at Xiang Yu. "Alright, we'll go check it out. Keep you posted."
"You had best make sure my beloved is safe!" Bennett tilted far away from his comm bracelet as Hinako's voice screamed over the line to Chaldea. Xiang Yu, on the other hand, tilted in. "Do you understand me!?"
"Worry not, my dear!" Xiang Yu boomed out. "Should the battle turn against us, I shall retreat in good order."
"Alright, that's enough, you two can play kissy-face later, let's go." Bennett grabbed his cane by the shaft and gave Xiang Yu a couple small thwacks with the handle. "Well, we were headed there anyway. May as well check it out now and get back to business."
"Very well! Lead on, Bennett!"
Bennett needed no further prompting. He walked on along Decatur Street, cane clicking on the old sidewalks and roads, Xiang Yu hovering over him in what he could only hope was a protective manner. Given how everybody on the street stepped out of their way, though, he somehow doubted that was the actual effect the Servant's presence had.
Four blocks up, Bennett's eyes fell upon what was supposed to be their final stop before regrouping: Cafe du Monde. Tourist trap it may be, but it was the one tourist trap that Bennett would swear by to any god that cared to listen. Beignets—basically just a variety of doughnut—were their specialty. And having tried the beignets at many a location, he could safely say that Cafe du Monde had the best he'd eaten. Bennett had been to this place many times during his four years in New Orleans, and probably put on several pounds due to their fatty, doughy, sugary goodness alone.
What he saw, though, made him do a double-take. The covered outdoor pavilion, full of tables currently seating hungry and gluttonous tourists? That was the same. What wasn't the same was the absolutely massive indoor cafe. And this was properly indoors, as opposed to the always-open building he knew housed the kitchens. It was also at least three times larger than that building had been. But more than that?
"When the hell did Cafe du Monde get a wait staff?" Bennett murmured to himself. He'd always gone up to the counter, paid, received his beignets, and then gone to sit on the pavilion. But… there was a building, with an indoor cafe, and it was several times bigger than he'd expected it to be.
Right, this was fine, Bennett assured himself. He still knew what he was looking for, this didn't change anything. With that in mind, Bennett scanned everybody currently seated, and turned towards the indoor cafe when he failed to find what he was looking for.
"Looks like we're going inside," he told Xiang Yu. "I doubt there'll be any hostilities, but just be ready to catch somebody pulling a runner."
"Understood," Xiang Yu replied. "They shall not get past me." Bennett gave his companion a nod, and with that, the two approached the indoor half of Cafe du Monde.
The interior decor was, if Bennett was being honest, a bit lackluster. Simple black and white tiling covered the floor and walls, and all the signage and furniture was the same old-timey aesthetic as the outside of Cafe du Monde. But this wasn't his particular focus. Instead, Bennett scanned the crowd, looking at the smaller, individual tables… and found his target, looking shiftily at the back of the restaurant and the kitchens while inching out of the seat and angling towards the front, one hand hooked around the straps of both a backpack and an oblong carry case on the back of the other chair at the table, the other crumpling a used napkin up on the table.
She had long hair, an incredibly light pink so sun-bleached as to be almost silver, pulled up in a ponytail that fanned out behind her head, and held in place by an oddly elaborate hairpiece. A black t-shirt, emblazoned with "House of the Rising Sun Est. 1854" and a truly obnoxious number of fleurs-de-lis, just barely exposed her navel, and below that she had on worn, sun-faded jeans tucked into knee-high cowboy boots.
"Wait here at the front a moment," Bennett whispered to Xiang Yu, who simply nodded and adjusted his position into his attempt at a disinterested slouch, which… didn't quite work. Bennett ignored that, and started walking towards the table, pulling out his wallet as he did. A moment later, at some invisible signal, the woman stood up from her table, angling towards the door—
"Shinmen Musashi-no-Kami Fujiwara-no-Harunobu," Bennett said, raising his cane to block her path. "Sit your ass back down."
"So…"
A second round of beignets for Miyamoto Musashi herself, and initial servings for Bennett and Xiang Yu, arrived at the table. Along with the bill for both theirs, both of hers, and the twenty-odd takeaway orders that they'd put in for the folks at Chaldea. Bennett summarily dropped a Chaldea credit card onto the bill, which was taken away an instant later by the server, who gave the Japanese not-Servant the stink-eye as he left.
"...yeah, I can't believe this," Musashi said with a cheerful grin and a quick hand, and like that one of Bennett's beignets was gone. To which he responded by ever so slowly reaching out, grabbing one of the beignets on Musashi's own plate, and taking it back to even the score. "Hey!"
"I paid for both of our beignets," Bennett said, taking a bite of his pilfered pastry, very carefully not taking a breath so he didn't inhale copious amounts of powdered sugar. "You don't really have room to complain."
Xiang Yu took one bite, grimaced, and pushed his plate away. "They are much too sweet for my tastes," he murmured, quieter than Bennett had heard the man say anything thus far. An instant later, the contents of his plate wound up on Musashi's, including the beignet Xiang Yu'd already taken a bite out of.
"So." Bennett wiped the powdered sugar away from his mouth, knocking his cane over in the process, which he then leaned over to pick up before continuing. "What part of this, exactly, is unbelievable?"
"Where do you want me to start?" It was actually amazing how intelligible she was with that much sweetness stuffed into her mouth. She nodded at Xiang Yu. "He's a Servant, but not your Servant, and there's this Chaldea place filled with Servants, and you're all trying to keep this timeline from ending up like mine?"
"Mostly accurate," Bennett agreed, waggling his beignet. "It hasn't dead-ended or veered off too far and gotten pruned, no," and boy wasn't he glad Musashi knew all the terminology involved, so much less to have to explain. "Instead, some megalomaniacal fuckwad up and decided he could do it better, and burned it all down so he could start his own timeline, with blackjack and hookers."
"What's wrong with hookers?" Musashi's eyes narrowed. "You're not some kinda prude, are ya?"
"Absolutely nothing, except for the part where there are no hookers, there's just ash," he replied. "'Cause he's not just an asshole, he's also a dumbass."
"Then why did you even mention the hookers?" the pink-haired Saber threw her arms up.
"Musashi," Bennett said, looking at her over the top of his glasses. "You've wandered around the modern era enough times that you can actually blend in. You should know damn well what a meme is."
"... I knew that," Musashi said, clearly not knowing that, and disguising her ignorance with another Chubby Bunny of beignet. "What I don't know is what any of this has to do with li'l old me."
"Well that depends. Do you still wish for your sword to reach 'Zero'?"
That put a frown on her face, and an odd rage filled her shining eyes. She pointed a finger at him as if it were a katana. "Now that's just fighting dirty!"
"Fair is the advantage to him that possesses it," Xiang Yu rumbled, from the sidelines.
"What he said. Fact of the matter is?" Bennett picked up his next beignet, and gestured at Musashi. "A set of circumstances that I know, for a fact, lead to you reaching 'Zero' and then beyond it, can only come to pass if Chaldea succeeds. Yes, it could certainly happen differently, but that makes it from a relatively sure thing into a gamble. And while I personally would rather you only finish step one and not push past 'Zero', that's ultimately not my choice, it's yours. But it's also your choice to help us get you to the starting line in the first place."
"And you're some kind of prophet or seer," Musashi snorted, an action that somehow managed to still be cute to Bennett. "This vagabond's run enough con games to know it's never that good and true at the same time."
"Not a prophet, nor a seer, and never said it was good," he said. "I'm just someone from a different timeline to this one, like yourself."
"And I'm super-famous there or something?"
"Honey, you have no idea," Bennett said. "Heck, just come say hello to the rest of the group, and I can demonstrate right then and there."
Furiko
She was fresh off a Rayshift and the revelation that her husband-to-be had been hanging out with Medea of Colchis without the slightest understanding of exactly how terrifying that was, and only a little more than an hour removed from the Insta-ho in the cafe who'd tried to talk her (or rather, her new hand) into an unpaid inspiration-porn photo shoot.
She was not in any mood to be polite.
"Your book is terrible," she told the swordsman bluntly, "and you owe Sasaki Kojiro a proper fight."
Musashi blinked. "I wrote a book?"
"Hey, Ko? She's, uh… not the Musashi from this timeline," Toby said, in that herky-jerk you're-a-fucking-ditz voice he trotted out every now and then. "But yeah, she does owe him a fight."
"Well you could've led with that," Ko retorted, shucking her duffle bag off of her shoulder.
"Nice to meet you," Indy quickly interrupted before she could even apologize, sticking out a hand. "I have no idea who you are, but I assume you're important."
"Of course I'm important!" Musashi said, shaking it as she pushed her chest out and tilted her chin up.
"I have some idea, but if you're not from this timeline I question my specific knowledge. It's a pleasure to meet you…" Dory said, rolling his eyes at Indy's antics and starting to give a brief bow, only to hesitate as Ritsuka approached.
"I'm sorry," Ritsuka started as he walked up to the pinkette, something different in his tone. "But you are truly Miyamoto Musashi? The legendary swordsman?"
"That's me!" Musashi turned to face the kid proudly. "Shinmen Musashi-no-Kami Fujiwara-no-Harunobu, master of the Niten Ichiryu, at your service!"
Whatever Ritsuka's response, it was too rapid-fire and garbled for even da Vinci's translation talisman to truly catch; Ko heard pieces of sounds that might have been 'amazing' or 'my whole life', but if he was putting together real sentences, her Japanese wasn't good enough to parse them. Whatever it was he actually said, it left the woman blushing, flustered, and looking just a little uncomfortable.
"Told ya you'd be recognized," Toby said. "Alright Fujimaru, you can fanboy and drool over her later, I gotta show her around." With that, Toby stepped between Ritsuka and Musashi, guiding the latter away a lot more gently than he'd been with anybody other than Abigail.
"Toby's got a cru-ush," Indy whispered - as if he weren't also staring at the Saber's ass. Honestly, maybe it was just the brewing bridezilla in her, but Ko was getting pretty sick of being introduced to women thinner and prettier than her.
"Ah, Bennett!" The door out of the Rayshift chamber slid open to reveal Best Bridge Bunnies; da Vinci had a very wide, extremely strained smile on her face, and a small coffee stain on one of her gloves. "And who is this!"
"... iiiiiit's a Saber!" Toby said, waving a hand at Musashi, which made Dr Roman visibly double-take and give her a second once-over. "Kinda. Sorta. Well not yet, given she's still alive, but… yeah!"
"Hello, cutie!" Musashi beamed at - well, Ko didn't know which of them she was beaming at, exactly (a dilemma Ko was more than familiar with herself). "You were right," she added to Toby in a stage whisper, "this place is amazing!"
"Oh, dope," Spencer chirped, "another bisexual for the council."
Ritsuka twitched a little at that.
"Ah-" Roman let out a nervous chuckle. "Thank you, Miss-"
"You stand before! Shinmen Musashi-no-Kami Fujiwara-no-Harunobu!" Her hands went to her hips, before the smug look on her face broke into a teasing grin. "But you can call me-"
"Thank you, Musashi," da Vinci placed a finger on the rose-blonde's lips. "We need to ask you a few questions before you can explore. If you wouldn't mind following me?"
"Anywhere~"
"Ask her about pruned timelines," Toby supplied. "She has firsthand knowledge!"
"And while we're handling Bennett's new addition," she replied. "We need to get everything properly inventoried."
"All righty!" Spencer's new outer layer was practically swimming on him, so he had to lift the hem a fair ways to slip his hand into his pocket. "One sketchy black credit card looking thing, returned in full working order." He handed the ATM Dispensifier back to Dr Roman with one hand, and the briefcase he'd been carrying with the other. "And one sexy black briefcase containing… a shocking amount of cash, given how small it is."
"Hey, uh, Spencer?" Toby said from the door, one eyebrow raised even as his head canted to the side. "Where did you get the Saints jersey?"
Spence beamed, and reached into the back of his pants to pull out a 9mm. "A better question is, where did I get this gun?"
Adam | Indy
[TWO DAYS LATER]
The teacup smashed against the wall and promptly shattered.
"Fuck!" Adam swore. "This is bullshit!"
It'd been two days since the close of the Eleventh Hour, and while it was too early to call what they had a "routine," things were moving back towards a more regular rhythm. Lessons with Socrates, training time in the simulators, prep work for his wedding… just the usual.
"You okay man?"
Scowling, the least talented magus grabbed another teacup, and closed his eyes.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Continuing his regulated breath, he brought up the mental image he'd chosen to activate his Magic Circuits - a two part lock coupled with an activation phrase: The lights of a streetlamp across the bleached night sky, pulling up and reversing so that those same lights now illuminated the earth.
"Eureka," he breathed, and felt the magic flow through his body. It felt like he'd downed a steaming cup of tea too quickly, only the warmth spread out from his core to every extremity. His eyes burned; he'd sworn they were shining until he'd triggered an activation in front of a mirror.
"Eidos," Adam whispered, and traced the tip of his finger around its circumference, the heat - the magic - pouring into the cup. Making it more, making it better, aligning itself with the epitome of its very essence. Opening his eyes, the man hooked a careful finger around the handle -
- And like the previous five, hurled it into the wall. Whereupon it, like the previous five whose shards lay scattered along the floor, it too shattered.
"Okay," Dory hurriedly put on his own pair of safety glasses. Which, really, he should have the moment he stepped into their magecraft practice room. "Hold on. Before you go again. Let's try something else." Adam had already opened his mouth when the other man held up a hand. "Different items, not a different exercise."
"The test is for a teacup," Adam growled. "I hurled a brick at your teacup and it bounced off. I am four days behind."
"Indy, you're not behind, promise. But, I have a suspicion on what's going screwy. I want to test my guess before I throw stuff at you."
"Reinforcement is supposed to be the most basic magic," Adam drew another slow, shuddering breath.
"Yes, because on a fundamental level it's taking your magical oomph and putting it into a thing. It's an exercise in controlling your magical energy, same way Structural Grasping is sensing magical energy. You're obviously using energy, and not enough to make the thing explode or distort, so you're not using too much. Again, let's try something other than a teacup."
This wasn't the first time he'd heard this. The theory behind Reinforcement was written down in blue-black ink in his notebook. He'd spoken with his Ruler several times about this issue, but the man was being even more cagey and arcane - Adam allowed himself a quick smirk at that thought - than normal.
"...fine," Adam sighed, before resting his forehead against the cool metal of the table he was seated at.
"Just a sec to find a good thing… ah, also, we're trying to learn how to Reinforce, not just how to Reinforce a teacup. Got it." There was a soft click as the thing was set onto the table. "Paperclip."
This was going to be another exercise in frustration, he could tell. But what the hell, it wasn't exactly like he was going to be getting any calmer with teacups.
It took him a full minute of controlled breathing before he felt comfortable activating his Circuits. Finally, when he was ready, he touched the inner half-loop of the paperclip.
"Eidos."
The white coating of paint around the clip burned away, leaving only bare, matte steel behind.
"... yeah, you're not 'Reinforcing' it in the normal way." Dory muttered, taking a slow breath before picking up the paperclip and bending it once, brow furrowed. It snapped back into place after a full rotation, "... it's something close. But it's not the usual."
"I'm literally doing what we were told," Adam sighed. "Using magic to bring an object closer to its ideal self."
"Ah. Kay. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I know what's going on here. One sec, I need to get a thing from Smith for demonstration purposes." The bearded man stood, lightly touching Adam's shoulder, "Be right back. I think I can help you figure out what's going weird here."
It wasn't like the others didn't have their own stumbling blocks. Ko was still trying to untangle her first attempt at a light spell with Socrates' help - apparently "pulling out all the shadows" from one of the room's corners was not the stuff illumination was made of. Spencer, having finally manifested a small mandala the size of his palm, was currently napping under a shock blanket due to overexertion.
It was just Adam's luck that his deficiency seemed to be in the most fundamental of the fundamentals. Seeing Ko try and fail once again to revert the corner's lighting without the Ruler wiping the spell clean, Adam felt compelled to try his own variation.
"Fos," he breathed, cupping his left hand, and a small ball of warm yellow light, the exact shade and hue of his childhood nightlight, appeared above it. A close of his hand, and a modicum of effort, and the light vanished.
At least he wasn't completely useless at magic.
Toby's struggles, meanwhile, had seemingly come to a head. Quite an explosive one, as he threw a beaker of water at the wall, and it boiled away into vapor in an instant.
"Fuck!" Which, given the expletive, was not his intention.
"Okay, gonna see if I can try to help with that after this."
Adam did not jump into the air and yelp. His chair, unfortunately, had coincidentally slipped at the worst time, and he'd been forced to jump up to prevent landing on his rear. Obviously.
He silently dared the returning Dory to claim differently. The bearded man was treading the edge of a smile.
Dory had brought with him a box, tucked under his arm, and in the same hand two small balls. "So, I have our demonstration materials." Holding out one between two fingers, a little blue thing, he offered it to Adam, "Try this. We'll compare, and work from there, okay?"
"Alright," Adam sighed. "You first, oh Master of Reinforcement."
"Pff. Master. Right. But, control." Holding up his own ball at the level of the table, Dory dropped the thing straight down and let the thing bounce before he caught it just a bit lower, then holding the thing up and squeezing it between two fingers. "Now, these are bouncy balls, with tons of stupid superlatives as you know. But for actual 'Reinforcement'?"
A slow breath. "Safeties off. Transfer."
Rainbow light washed down his hand in lines before touching the ball between his fingers, making it glow briefly before it faded.
This time when he dropped the ball, from the same height, it bounced up nearly to their shoulders, and the bearded man had to lean out to catch the thing before it got too far away. This time when he squeezed it between his fingers, there was no give. "Now, a 'Reinforced ball', at least the way I'm doing it. Yourself, o' walker of strange ways?"
"Eidos."
Surprisingly enough, his ball performed just as well as Dory's, only it gave more when he squeezed it afterwards. Admittedly, he might have overdone it with his - the thing was now streaked with swirls of baby blue and turquoise, like some strange and distant planet.
"Yeah. I thought so. What you're doing? Isn't 'Reinforcement' in the 'basic bitch exercise' sense. You're technically doing what… well, I'm pretty sure it'd be called Transmutation, might be Alteration, but you're not 'just' moving your magical energy around. You're not just taking your energy and adding it to the thing, you're making it conceptually more that thing. Teacups are fragile. A paperclip keeps being a paperclip. Bouncy balls bounce."
"Yes," he said slowly. "I'm doing Reinforcement. Which when Socrates demonstrated, could make the teacup sturdier. And still be more of a teacup."
Another thought struck him. "Wait you just… poured your energy into that ball with no purpose? How would that even work? Like, if you wanted to do it physically, you'd have to imagine a million different tiny springs, or…."
Dory burst out laughing before covering his mouth and waving a hand, "Wha-hahaha-what? Ah, no, hah, one sec. Train of thought hit a cow there. What. Ha! Right. Mm. Okay, yes, I'm 'just' pouring my energy into it. That's what pure Reinforcement is-"
"That sounds highly unstable. Like making a bomb."
Dory sighed. "If you overcharge it or try to put energy in places that it shouldn't be, it can explode. But, Reinforcement is mostly an exercise in just moving your energy. You've bypassed that step. You're technically doing a more complex bit of magic. For more basic Reinforcement, when you add your energy into the system, you're not doing it without purpose, you're filling in the cracks, the little gaps and spaces, you're building a sort of scaffolding in the physical object to make it better at what it is."
"...Okay," Adam nodded. "I can see how that would make a teacup stronger, if you physics'd out the ideal scaffolding for the object. But for the ball, that still sounds like you need springs - or in general, some kind of physical mechanism for that approach."
"Not really but kinda? The visualization is important for higher levels. Speaking of which, what's your Element? That might make it easier to figure out a more 'default' Reinforcement rather than skipping over it like you are."
Adam shrugged. "Dunno."
Dory blinked, "Huh? Was it not on your sheet?"
"It was blacked out."
"I'm… surprised? Your Origin would've been, sure, but… why was your Element?"
"For the same reason?" Adam ventured. Origins were the fundamental basis of the soul; human nature being what it was, one could go against it. Actually learning about one's own Origin was dangerous because it made it far harder to do so. His fiancée knowing hers was apparently cause for major concern.
Dory shot a glance over at Toby's station, and immediately looked thankful that the Nasuverse nerd was out of the room getting more materials. "Not really? Elements aren't dangerous to know, they're more… a property of the circuits, how your soul interfaces with the world around you and all that. Knowing what that is, it's… on a certain level, you've got to visualize all of your magic through it."
Adam shrugged. "According to Socrates, I should try to approach magic naturally, and try to be free of any preconceptions during my visualizations-"
Dory choked a little.
"-and that any average magus should be able to do it."
"... Indy, that makes me want to punch Socrates." The other man's fists had briefly clenched into fists, "Because that's a good way to get yourself hurt or dead."
Right on cue, Adam could feel the Ruler's presence behind him.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, rhetorically.
"No," Dory snapped out. "Because you let him think something that could get him hurt."
"What was that delightful phrase that was quoted during our first dialogue?"
"Yeah. Bite me. Not playing that when you can give him better tools to not get hurt." Dory turned back to Indy, "Okay, magic beyond your means can kill you, or just hurt you real bad."
"I'm aware of that," Adam said, feeling a bit patronized. "Unlike some of us-" he flicked his eyes at Toby, who had returned with a fresh pair of beakers, thermometers, and an electric kettle. "I haven't gone experimenting. I've stuck very firmly to the curriculum and not tried to get ahead."
Dory paused, collecting himself, "Yes. And my point is that your Element–"
"-will currently only serve to limit him," Socrates stated. "You all think of me as a teacher, but I am more akin to a midwife, albeit one of the soul and not the body. The triumph of my art is in thoroughly examining whether the thought which the mind of the young man brings forth is a false idol, or a noble and true birth. The prescriptions given to one expecting twins differs from one expecting in the winter or one for whom no truly remarkable conditions are expected."
"... you're basically just saying to trust you and I really can't after a second instance of you pointing him in a blatantly dangerous direction." Dory threw up a hand. "What's next, telling him to go to the gym and just 'figure out' the machines? To go up to a-"
Adam cleared his throat. "Thank you. Both of you. I am right here."
"Sorry." Dory said immediately, contrite.
"Is Socrates doing cult shit?" Ko called from across the room. "Do we need to hit him with sticks?"
"Kinda maybe!" Dory called back.
"Well keep me posted!"
"Will do!"
As nice as it was that they cared, Adam was feeling highly condescended to at the moment.
"Socrates." Adam stated flatly. "Is what I'm doing - what I believe to be Reinforcement - the traditional art of it?"
The Ruler's answer was immediate. "No."
"How much trouble would I have had with the traditional way?"
That one took a bit longer. "I could not say," he admitted. "But given the course of your own natural aptitudes - and the objections you have raised to the approach your friend - whose concern for you is esteemable -"
Dory flipped him off.
"- I would venture a not inconsiderable amount."
"And my not knowing my Element?"
"...if I were to say that a man is quick to anger, before you were to meet him, you would approach him with this opinion in mind." The First Philosopher pursed his lips. "But perhaps he is quick to anger not because of an imbalance in humors, but out of a love of justice, and to treat him gingerly would be to do disservice to the both of you."
"And my problem with that, is that it's less a man he's not told you about, and more a mountain lion. Twice now." Dory gestured angrily at the older man even if his tone was more controlled now. "Even if the curriculum so far wouldn't have you provoking the cat. He has blatantly not mentioned the claws or teeth or even that it's a carnivore. That's why I'm mad."
"It is neither a man nor a mountain lion," Socrates countered. "But the nature of a soul-"
"You used a metaphor." This time Dory pointed at him angrily. "Do not give me crap for using one as well. Make your argument properly damnit."
"Then consider your own educations. Tell me: which subject were you most praised for?"
Dory's face twisted a bit before he threw up a hand in frustration. "Math and writing."
"Let us use math then. When you first began, were you taught the axioms of mathematics?"
Dory's confusion only deepened. "... kinda but not really?"
"Then perhaps the theorems and proofs which are derived from these axioms?"
"That's closer, sure?"
"Or perhaps some specific cases and peripheral rules - tools which could be manipulated within a closed setting? That is to say, arithmetic regarding certain numbers."
"Okay, I get more where you're going, but I still don't like it because I feel your metaphor breaks down," his hand shot up to forestall any comments, "But I'll need some time to think it through to figure out that point. But continue your metaphor, at very least for his understanding."
Adam groaned. "We start math with very simple, basic operations, restricted to a small subset of natural numbers," he said, cutting both of them off. "And from there build up to more complex sets using those operations, then different operations, and eventually we abandon numbers altogether. Eventually, we move into the manipulation of number-sets and build towards the core axioms of the subject, from which we can truly derive and understand why the fuck 1+1=2."
"Quite so!" Socrates nodded.
"My Element is therefore one of these axioms, or a theorem or property that the magical equivalent of arithmetic isn't well-equipped to understand," the man continued. "So it isn't one of the classical five. Not surprising, by the way - Dory's got the most typical Element and it's still atypical among mages."
An old memory resurfaced in his mind.
"...I was ten years old, and I'd just learned about decimals," Adam mused. "Thinking about it on the drive back, I told my dad that the distance between any two numbers was infinite. And therefore, that the distance between zero and one and one to infinity were the same." He chuckled. "I never formally learned about the magnitudes of infinity even as a graduate student. And he was an accountant, not a mathematician. We just pulled into the garage and that was that. If I'd said those words to a proper teacher, who knows what'd have happened."
"The metaphor misses out on the physicality of the process and the risk of physical harm. It also doesn't explain or excuse the Counter Force stuff." Dory said, glaring at Socrates, "Philosophical understandings of the stuff are great, and important for magic. But… I can't articulate it well, but this is the second time he's pointed you at a weight, told you to lift it, and gave you zero idea that trying to pick something too heavy up can permanently injure you."
"Hardly," Adam pointed out. "I was told to prove the Counter Force's existence - which is something all of you take for granted-"
"Indy!" Dory was exasperated with him, clearly, "I don't take it for granted. I just haven't put it on my priority list to understand, because it's dangerous."
"-As fact, then. You came to this universe and already knew for certain that it existed. I did not, and I was not going to take it on faith. I attempted to describe, precisely, what the Force would require as I understood them. Before I made any meaningful progress, the man you identified as an agent of the Counter Force destroyed my notes."
He had to chuckle again.
"Did you know that I sold my soul once?"
"That can actually happen here." Dory deadpanned.
"Not here - back home. In undergrad - it was a philosophical point. We even drew up a contract: my soul for a bottle of… fuck I can't remember the exact bottle, it was a 15 dollar white wine. I never got that wine - my friend's dog ate the contract, and he took that as a sign." He sighed nostalgically. "History doesn't repeat, but it does rhyme… my point is, I now understand the Counter Force exists and that it shouldn't be messed with. Which is where you lot started, but I had to get there my own way."
Dory did not appear any calmer, but instead of continuing to argue, the man merely sighed, shrugging, "... this feels like a second time of being told to fuck off for worrying about the risks he's thrown at you."
"Do you worry that Scathach is going to kill Ko?" Adam asked flatly.
"Kill? No. Hurt? Yes." There was more than a bit of heat to the last word before he caught himself. "I joined the training. And no, I doubt he'll get you killed. But I seriously worry about shit like this getting you permanently hurt."
There wasn't much to say after that. Sighing, Adam turned back to the teacups, his eyes passing over them as if he were seeing them for the first time. Dimly and far away, he could hear Dory and Socrates continue to bicker.
Teacups were fragile, delicate things - he'd never really felt comfortable using them. But because he was a self-admitted tea fanatic….
"Eidos!"
This time, the teacup bounced off the wall, rolling back to rest at Dory's feet. The man picked it up - the only sign of its abuse was a small dent in its side.
"...A teacup," Adam nodded sagely. "Is just a shitty travel mug."
Furiko
The first fitting had been about as tense as she'd expected. Fionn hadn't exactly helped the atmosphere with his constant opinions about her dress (more embroidery and lace), hair (more braids), jewelry (more more) and flowers (a lavender-wreath crown that reeked of old lady soap). They were lucky Medea hadn't thrown both of them out on their asses.
At least the dress was coming along nicely, and much quicker than anticipated - the Caster did good work, it was undeniable. It wasn't quite as reusable as Indy's ideal wedding dress for her would probably be, but he wasn't paying for it and he wasn't wearing it, so he had no room to complain.
… hm. Fionn may or may not be a bad influence on her.
And now her Lancer had taken his leave to resume the broffensive - apparently today he was going to suggest a Guitar Hero session with Dory and William Tell as a social buffer.
Half of Ko was starting to feel a little bad for Indy. The other half wanted pictures.
She was just debating whether to hit the Simulator or just go watch a movie in the rec room when she heard rapidly-approaching eurobeat music and the building thrum of an engine.
-gojuunen, geten no uchi wo kurabureba-
Newly-drilled instincts had her dive backward into a roll even as brakes screeched in front of her. Reaching behind her for a spear that wasn't there, Ko saw, crowded against the walls of Chaldea in the passageway ahead, the side of an eye-scorching pink party bus, black-bordered kanji emblazoned across it in a calligraphy-inspired font. No- kanji and katakana.
Otoyome-mo-bii-ru… Bridemobile?!
There was only a moment to take all that in before one of its windows opened, and Spencer leaned out.
"Ko help!" he yelped over the pulsing beat and the chatter of whoever else was on the bus. "They want me to sing and the karaoke machine is in Japanes-!"
A slim hand caught her friend around the mouth and effortlessly yanked him back inside. A delighted peal of laughter rang out, like a sudden rainfall on a hot day, and the doors of the bus unshuttered to reveal a petite Japanese woman wearing a warm smile, a flowing red cape, and a strangely familiar peaked cap.
"Get in, bitch!" she exclaimed, still laughing and reaching out with a white-gloved hand. "We're sacking Rome!"
GUDAGUDA TIBER FEVER - BRIDAL SPQRAMPAGE
Nobu nobu, nobunonobunobu, nobu, nooooobu nobu nobuuuu nobunobu. Nobbu!
Crazy Noisy Bizarre Town | Canon Rating: C+
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Crazy Noisy Bizarre Town
Canon Rating: C+
Spencer
Spencer hefted the slowly-filling bag of cash over his shoulder as he pulled the black card da Vinci had given him out of the machine. Money always took up a lot less space than he expected, and he really should have been used to it by now. He'd been inside the counting rooms at the casino he worked at years ago. He knew, intellectually, that ten thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills was less than an inch high. And that the same amount in twenties was barely four inches.
He was grateful that the card had been designed to just work on its own. Stick the card in the machine, press the on screen prompts as the card told the machine that it's funds were yes through the power of wizardry and the arcane, and then collect the two to six thousand dollars deposited into the tray.
Pull the card, move on to the next site.
It was an elegant system. It didn't draw too much attention, either. It left the vast majority of the money in the machine. He could have been pulling a lot more. But instead it was just an amount that fit in the collection tray that he could grab, wrap two rubber bands around, and dump into the bag.
"Checking in," he said, tapping the device around his wrist, "site twenty-two clear, moving on to twenty three."
"You're a little ahead of schedule if you'd like to take a break," Dr. Roman said over the comms. "You've got about fifteen minutes of slack at this point."
He hadn't actually intended to do that. He'd just gotten into the rhythm of thievery.
"I'll never say no to not working," he said, before setting the bag down pretty much on the spot and sitting down on a wooden box poking out of the mouth of an alley.
He leaned his head back against the brickwork of the building…
And snapped awake as he felt the tug of the strap from the duffelbag he'd looped around his wrist.
"Drop the bag, dickhead," A voice snapped.
Spencer looked up and saw what appeared to be two teenagers trying to rob him. The only thing stopping them had been the fact that Spencer had thought far enough ahead to grab the strap before it could come off his arm.
"Or what," Spencer said, on instinct, "you'll beat me up?"
"Or I'll cap your ass!" the taller of the two said, reaching behind him.
Oh shit, Spencer thought, nearly letting go of the bag before he remembered something.
"Shazam," he said, as he focused on the image in his mind of a lone tree in an otherwise empty field being struck by lightning. A point in the center of his chest began to warm, and that warmth spread out to his limbs in short order.
Before the gun could clear the would-be robber's belt, Spencer had already managed to utter a one-line phrase. "Nayka Wawa."
The other one, the shorter boy in the jersey who had been trying to wrestle the bag from him, suddenly dropped it. "What the fuck!?" he yelled as he noticed the tall one go slack.
"Hey man," Spencer said. "Drop the gun and go for a walk, yeah? You'll feel way better."
"Yeah, that makes sense," he responded, before letting the gun clatter to the ground and walking down the alley.
"What the-"
"And you don't want to rob me," Spencer said as he made eye contact with the shorter robber. "You want to take a nap."
He had just put the jersey on and was picking up the gun when the police cruiser rolled up by the alley.
"Oh hell," he muttered, before deciding that fuck it, this might as well happen today. "Hey guys? I'm gonna be ditching the whole ATM route thing. 'Cause I've been made by the cops and I'm holding a gun in an alley over an unconscious teenager."
The wrist band crackled with a little static before Roman's voice echoed over it. "It hasn't even been five minutes! How did this happen!?"
"Uh, can't hear you, you're going through a tunnel…" Spencer mumbled before switching the band off.
When he'd tested his hypnosis against volunteers in Chaldea, he'd learned some annoying facts about his ability to mess with other people's brains. The first problem was that he was bad at it. Or, more accurately, he couldn't make people do anything particularly unreasonable. He could manage a decent imitation of the jedi mind trick.
The other problem is that it didn't usually last very long. Ten minutes, tops. 'You want to take a nap,' was the most effective hypnosis command he'd discovered so far.
Which meant he had ten minutes to ditch the cop car he'd stolen. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It would give him the ability to get more distance and make it harder for the cop to chase him when he woke up.
"Great, first time on a solo mission and the entire opp is shot. There's no way I'm going to be able to hit any more… A… T… Heh."
He chuckled to himself as the cruiser coasted by an unfamiliar familiar building.
Sure, he'd never been in this particular casino, but if you've been in one casino you've been in all of them. And if you've been in one counting room surrounded by stacks of cash you've fantasised about grabbing a fistful of stacks and making a break for it. And if you knew three magic spells, one of which was hypnosis…
Fantastic the black card worked at casino atms. And the casino atms were stocked.
He muttered the incantation under his breath, then made eye contact with the person that had just put half their chips into the pot, and no small number of them the fancy placard kinds that represented the big dollars.
"You really don't have a chance against me. You should just fold. These cards I'm holding are definitely a royal flush."
"Damn, I can't beat a royal flush… I fold..."
"What the shit, Jerry! You had three queens!"
Spencer shrugged as he slipped his still facedown hand of absolutely nothing to the dealer to be shuffled into the deck. He'd won enough to make this part of the trip worth it, to get a reason for security to need to go back into the count room. He'd only had to get a few hypnotized answers to completely innocent questions to determine what his route was going to be.
The plan was simple. He was going to hypnotize the security escort, slip into the count room through the man trap and hopefully grab and dash fast enough that surveillance wouldn't be able to stop him before he found an exit.
Easy.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck! SHIT!"
He bolted out of the side door, men in uniforms shouting behind him to stop.
To his dismay, the police cruiser he'd parked in the lot was surrounded by several other police cruisers and what he was pretty sure was a SWAT van.
It is shockingly easy to steal a SWAT van when you suggest that the cops are actually here to raid the casino and shut it down because you're a member of the mob and you're not going back to prison.
Sure, it meant a bunch of security guards got tackled by the police, but no one got shot so Spencer didn't feel all that guilty about it.
And after about a minute the suggestion wore off anyway so it's not like there was even room for anyone to escalate. Just a couple of seconds of confusion.
Spencer looked in the rearview mirror and frowned.
But how do I lose them? he wondered to himself.
The swat van was at the bottom of the river, and it turns out that what little self reinforcement he had gotten a handle on was just enough to get him far enough down river to get out of the water where no one would see him.
Spencer quickly opened the bag, a little afraid that he might have fucked up the stolen-
Nope, it was fine. The bag was completely dry on the inside.
"All hail the universal genius," he muttered, zipping the bag back up.
All he had to do now was make the rendezvous point a few hours from now and get out of this singularity so it could collapse in on itself, thus erasing all record and memory of anything he'd done here forever.
And no one had to know that he'd done anything more than rob a handful of ATMs.
...
He was keeping the gun. So he'd need to explain that.
And nothing else.
Canon Rating: C+
Spencer
Spencer hefted the slowly-filling bag of cash over his shoulder as he pulled the black card da Vinci had given him out of the machine. Money always took up a lot less space than he expected, and he really should have been used to it by now. He'd been inside the counting rooms at the casino he worked at years ago. He knew, intellectually, that ten thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills was less than an inch high. And that the same amount in twenties was barely four inches.
He was grateful that the card had been designed to just work on its own. Stick the card in the machine, press the on screen prompts as the card told the machine that it's funds were yes through the power of wizardry and the arcane, and then collect the two to six thousand dollars deposited into the tray.
Pull the card, move on to the next site.
It was an elegant system. It didn't draw too much attention, either. It left the vast majority of the money in the machine. He could have been pulling a lot more. But instead it was just an amount that fit in the collection tray that he could grab, wrap two rubber bands around, and dump into the bag.
"Checking in," he said, tapping the device around his wrist, "site twenty-two clear, moving on to twenty three."
"You're a little ahead of schedule if you'd like to take a break," Dr. Roman said over the comms. "You've got about fifteen minutes of slack at this point."
He hadn't actually intended to do that. He'd just gotten into the rhythm of thievery.
"I'll never say no to not working," he said, before setting the bag down pretty much on the spot and sitting down on a wooden box poking out of the mouth of an alley.
He leaned his head back against the brickwork of the building…
And snapped awake as he felt the tug of the strap from the duffelbag he'd looped around his wrist.
"Drop the bag, dickhead," A voice snapped.
Spencer looked up and saw what appeared to be two teenagers trying to rob him. The only thing stopping them had been the fact that Spencer had thought far enough ahead to grab the strap before it could come off his arm.
"Or what," Spencer said, on instinct, "you'll beat me up?"
"Or I'll cap your ass!" the taller of the two said, reaching behind him.
Oh shit, Spencer thought, nearly letting go of the bag before he remembered something.
"Shazam," he said, as he focused on the image in his mind of a lone tree in an otherwise empty field being struck by lightning. A point in the center of his chest began to warm, and that warmth spread out to his limbs in short order.
Before the gun could clear the would-be robber's belt, Spencer had already managed to utter a one-line phrase. "Nayka Wawa."
The other one, the shorter boy in the jersey who had been trying to wrestle the bag from him, suddenly dropped it. "What the fuck!?" he yelled as he noticed the tall one go slack.
"Hey man," Spencer said. "Drop the gun and go for a walk, yeah? You'll feel way better."
"Yeah, that makes sense," he responded, before letting the gun clatter to the ground and walking down the alley.
"What the-"
"And you don't want to rob me," Spencer said as he made eye contact with the shorter robber. "You want to take a nap."
He had just put the jersey on and was picking up the gun when the police cruiser rolled up by the alley.
"Oh hell," he muttered, before deciding that fuck it, this might as well happen today. "Hey guys? I'm gonna be ditching the whole ATM route thing. 'Cause I've been made by the cops and I'm holding a gun in an alley over an unconscious teenager."
The wrist band crackled with a little static before Roman's voice echoed over it. "It hasn't even been five minutes! How did this happen!?"
"Uh, can't hear you, you're going through a tunnel…" Spencer mumbled before switching the band off.
When he'd tested his hypnosis against volunteers in Chaldea, he'd learned some annoying facts about his ability to mess with other people's brains. The first problem was that he was bad at it. Or, more accurately, he couldn't make people do anything particularly unreasonable. He could manage a decent imitation of the jedi mind trick.
The other problem is that it didn't usually last very long. Ten minutes, tops. 'You want to take a nap,' was the most effective hypnosis command he'd discovered so far.
Which meant he had ten minutes to ditch the cop car he'd stolen. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It would give him the ability to get more distance and make it harder for the cop to chase him when he woke up.
"Great, first time on a solo mission and the entire opp is shot. There's no way I'm going to be able to hit any more… A… T… Heh."
He chuckled to himself as the cruiser coasted by an unfamiliar familiar building.
Sure, he'd never been in this particular casino, but if you've been in one casino you've been in all of them. And if you've been in one counting room surrounded by stacks of cash you've fantasised about grabbing a fistful of stacks and making a break for it. And if you knew three magic spells, one of which was hypnosis…
Fantastic the black card worked at casino atms. And the casino atms were stocked.
He muttered the incantation under his breath, then made eye contact with the person that had just put half their chips into the pot, and no small number of them the fancy placard kinds that represented the big dollars.
"You really don't have a chance against me. You should just fold. These cards I'm holding are definitely a royal flush."
"Damn, I can't beat a royal flush… I fold..."
"What the shit, Jerry! You had three queens!"
Spencer shrugged as he slipped his still facedown hand of absolutely nothing to the dealer to be shuffled into the deck. He'd won enough to make this part of the trip worth it, to get a reason for security to need to go back into the count room. He'd only had to get a few hypnotized answers to completely innocent questions to determine what his route was going to be.
The plan was simple. He was going to hypnotize the security escort, slip into the count room through the man trap and hopefully grab and dash fast enough that surveillance wouldn't be able to stop him before he found an exit.
Easy.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck! SHIT!"
He bolted out of the side door, men in uniforms shouting behind him to stop.
To his dismay, the police cruiser he'd parked in the lot was surrounded by several other police cruisers and what he was pretty sure was a SWAT van.
It is shockingly easy to steal a SWAT van when you suggest that the cops are actually here to raid the casino and shut it down because you're a member of the mob and you're not going back to prison.
Sure, it meant a bunch of security guards got tackled by the police, but no one got shot so Spencer didn't feel all that guilty about it.
And after about a minute the suggestion wore off anyway so it's not like there was even room for anyone to escalate. Just a couple of seconds of confusion.
Spencer looked in the rearview mirror and frowned.
But how do I lose them? he wondered to himself.
The swat van was at the bottom of the river, and it turns out that what little self reinforcement he had gotten a handle on was just enough to get him far enough down river to get out of the water where no one would see him.
Spencer quickly opened the bag, a little afraid that he might have fucked up the stolen-
Nope, it was fine. The bag was completely dry on the inside.
"All hail the universal genius," he muttered, zipping the bag back up.
All he had to do now was make the rendezvous point a few hours from now and get out of this singularity so it could collapse in on itself, thus erasing all record and memory of anything he'd done here forever.
And no one had to know that he'd done anything more than rob a handful of ATMs.
...
He was keeping the gun. So he'd need to explain that.
And nothing else.
GUDAGUDA Tiber Fever | Chapter XIII
- Pronouns
- She/Her
GUDAGUDA Tiber Fever | Chapter XIII
Adam | Indy
The door to Akuta's room cracked open slowly and stopped almost immediately. All Adam could see was one brown eye, staring murderously back at him.
"What?"
His heart was pounding in his chest - he'd all but sprinted down the halls to get here.
"My-my fiancée," he gasped out. "We don't know where she or Spencer is. We think she's been-"
"-not my problem."
The door closed.
"Fuck you too, bitch," he muttered darkly, turning away from the last Master's room, only to stagger as his legs finally won their argument with his body. He moved into a controlled collapse against the wall, panting, as he tried to martial his thoughts.
About one hour ago, an unknown vehicle had appeared in Chaldea. It had then collected quite a few of the organization's Servants - thankfully none of his - as well as both Spencer and Ko, before speeding off… somewhere.
Given that there was actually literal nothing outside of Chaldea, exactly where they'd been kidnapped to was quite the puzzle. Roman and the techs were working on that - something about following spiritron trails - but he was rallying the troops. Or attempting to rally.
"This is Ritsuka," the Japanese teen sounded worried through his earpiece. "I can't find Mashu anywhere either."
"Can't make contact with Drake, no one's seen Boudica or Priya that I've spoken with." Dory said, "I've got Mordred with me, still making a sweep."
"Nobody's missing on my end, but that seems to be the exception," Toby relayed. "Gonna go grab the Pharaoh. Roman, since it's sounding like an all hands scenario, I'm sending Abby your way."
"...Spencer is also nowhere to be found," Adam noted. "Hinako is… present. And not coming." The bitch.
"Roger that. And yes, this is a serious problem indeed," Roman confirmed. "But I think I have it. We've tracked them to the Italian peninsula, circa 61 AD. One year after the Septem Singularity."
"Doctor," Ritz's tone was deadly serious. "Do you think this might have something to do with whoever is responsible for the Incineration of Humanity?"
"I'm not ruling it out," he said grimly. "They've taken da Vinci too. Aside from you, Fujimaru, there isn't anyone more essential to Chaldea's operations."
A brief pause. "Akuta Hinako isn't coming unless it's directly related," Roman continued. "But I'm mobilizing the rest of you. Bring the strongest Servants you have - for if we cannot find da Vinci-chan and the others, I don't know if we can continue onwards."
Just what he wanted to hear when the biggest thing on his plate for the day had been further exploration of his not-Reinforcement.
Adam made a fist. "By my Command Seal," he declared, the back of his left hand burning. "Socrates - meet me in the Rayshift Chamber." It might have been a waste of resources - but he wasn't in the mindset for the inevitable "discussion" with the Ruler about his decision.
He didn't run to the Chamber - his already-racing heart wouldn't let him.
She had to be safe. She was tough, strong, and being trained by a very scary lady that he'd broken his "no Wikipedia'ing Servants" rule for.
Unfortunately, Scathach was also nowhere to be found, either.
The rest of them were already prepped to climb into the Rayshift pods when he arrived.
"Alright, you're here… fucking hell, man." Toby ran a shaky hand back through his hair to try and calm himself, all while very deliberately ignoring the Pharaoh beside him.
Dory approached, putting a hand on Adam's shoulder and giving it a small squeeze, softly speaking in the large chamber, "Would ask if you're okay, but, y'know, understandable freakouts. We'll find her."
"Yeah," he heard himself say. "We will."
"Right. Time's wasting," Roman's voice came over the intercom. "Are you all ready?"
Finn stood hovering to the side, hands clenching and unclenching impotently around his spear. He looked as though he wanted desperately to say something, but finally went with a simple, "Good luck," before turning and stalking out of the room.
Finn had admittedly taken Ko's disappearance as seriously as Adam had. Unfortunately, he was a babbler - and Adam had needed action.
The plan he'd put together had been simple. Sweep Chaldea. Search through all of time and space. Tear through any opposition to get Ko back.
Verbalize concerns about what his fiance had gotten into had not been on the docket. He had had to make that very clear to Finn.
On to step three.
They stepped into the tubes, and the pods slid closed.
The wash of sparkles, the flash of light, the sensation of going through a tunnel, a roar of not-wind - and then they were in the center of… some kind of stadium? It didn't look like the Colosseum - the stone walls and seating aside, it reminded him of a massive high school sports field more than anything - an ovaloid green surrounded by a red clay track. People were crowded onto the stands, waving gaudily colored flags; banners were draped upon the walls; cheers roared and rising, echoing all around them in the passionate ring he'd previously heard most strongly at a soccer match in Barcelona.
"Olympia Laudere!" A voice boomed from behind him. Turning to face it, he saw a young blonde woman in white gauze and red silk, standing imperiously on a small raised platform. "Umu! All challengers shall now take the stage!"
"Are you fucking kidding me with this right now!?" Toby was muttering angrily under his breath, growing into a yell as he went. "Nope, just, just nope, fuck this, fuck that, fuck her and fuck no! No, we are not fucking dealing with—!"
Spencer
"Oh we have to hit up the Pantheon after this," Ko said, stirring a glass whose main contents were crushed ice and sugar with her straw. "I wanna paint Kilroy Was Here around the skylight."
"I mean you haven't really sacked a place until you've defaced a couple of monuments. I was thinking of stealing the head off a statue or two," Spencer responded, sipping a drink that was either barely alcoholic or incredibly alcoholic and well hidden. The truth would reveal itself in about twenty minutes. He'd already drunk two of them.
"I want to burn the Vatican!" Jeanne Alter shouted.
"Can we?" Spencer asked. "Was the building around yet or…"
"Not 'til the 4th century at the earliest, unfortunately," Ko said, calling, "Sorry, Jalter!"
"... I knew that!" came the belated, highly indignant reply.
"Why are we burning down anything?!" Mash demanded to know. "Da Vinci-san, you're Italian, surely you won't stand for this cultural vandalism!"
"Actually," da Vinci said, gesturing with the cocktail in her hand, "this is a self-collapsing, destructive singularity - it most closely resembles Singularity F in that regard. Studying its collapse on-site will help us learn more about the mechanism through which the incineration of humanity gathers energy. So really, the more mayhem the better." She finished her explanation with a dark mumble into her glass about someone named Giovanni, and a long swig of her drink.
"But…" Mash still looked distressed.
"I knew that!" Jalter said again, almost out of the blue. "I'm not stupid, okay? I just… wanted to blow it up. On principle. Because we. are in. the place the Vatican... will be."
"Here, sweetpea," Musashi said (she… hadn't been with them, earlier. And where did she even get that bucket of margarita mix?), pouring the contents of her portable blender into a glass and shoving it into Mash's hands. "Have a margarita, you'll feel better."
"No, thank you-"
"Did I just hear someone turn down a drink?" came the voice of their hostess, followed by the lady herself stalking up the aisle. She was carrying a gaudily painted marble statue taller than she was in one hand, and an all-too familiar golden chalice, filled with a cloudy white liquid, in the other.
"Oda-san," Mash began, before the tiny warlord sloshed her cup in the Shielder's direction.
"This is a party!" Nobu declared. "If that margarita is still full when I next see you, there will be a reckoning! A terrible reckoning the likes of which you have never seen, Eggplant! And you!" She whirled on Ko, nearly taking off Spencer's nose with the tip of the statue. "Are you not entertained? I don't see a pile of loot anywhere around you!"
Spencer took the opportunity, while Nobu's back was turned, to quickly grab Mash's drink, knock it back in one gulp, then set the glass down in front of her.
'You're welcome' he mouthed, giving her a double thumbs-up as she stared at him in horror.
Ko hoisted the da Vinci-made duffle from under her seat. "Oh, I picked up a couple of things at the markets - it's all tucked away so I don't forget where I left it."
Nobu let out a loud whoop. "Marvelous! You won't be able to sit atop your heaped prizes with a drink in hand, of course - you can always use mine, if you like."
Ko put a hand over her heart and bowed in her seat. "I would be honoured, Oda-dono."
"Aw, don't be like that!" Nobunaga pouted. "Call me Nobu like usual!"
Ko grinned, and toasted her. "You got it, Nobu!"
Spencer took a moment to zone out of the conversation, observing the interior of the party bus they'd been… kidnapped? Invited into? Well, that was a moot point. It wasn't too dissimilar from the party busses that used to bring people down from Portland to the casino he'd used to work at. At the back of the bus was a TV connected to the karaoke system, with bench seats running along both sides, with a path down the middle. The bench seats were occasionally broken up by embedded coolers containing drinks and light snacks.
Balloons floated around the ceiling, having come loose from where they'd once been tied to the overhead bars. Ko batted one away as she sang into the wireless mic some song about 'becoming an otaking.'
He had no idea what that meant, but Mash looked visibly horrified by it. There were only so many conclusions one could draw from that. It was probably something no responsible person should be doing. Spencer continued trying to figure out Mash's reaction until he caught the phrase 'the way of the otaku,' and at that point stopped wondering; he remembered Mash's reaction to Dr. Roman's love of Magi Mari. Which spawned another thought, should they tell Roman he was being catfished by an incub-
The bus jolted as it drove over a small bump, and Spencer lost the thought.
"-ever in a million years think our first Singularity would be for a hen do?" he heard Priya ask the Boisbleu twins.
"Honestly if you'd asked me yesterday, my money would have been on Miss Bathory kidnapping us to plan a surprise party for Ritsuka," one of them said bluntly. "At least we can drink here."
"And pick up ancient reagents all in one place," the other added - her eyes were lighter, was it Noisette or Yolande who had the dark eyes? "It's not quite the Terrasses du Port, but for our purposes…"
"Well I'm certainly not complaining," Priya said, grinning at the brunette seated across the aisle from her. "Thanks again for getting us in on this one, Greta."
"Of course," Mata Hari replied with a frankly dangerous wink. "What are friends for?"
"Spencer-san," Mash whispered, shaking him out of his eavesdropping, "does Ko-san understand that sacking a city usually means killing a lot of people?"
"Hazard of the trade," Ching Shih said without hesitation, reaching between the pair to grab another CBD gummy shaped like a diamond ring from the box behind them. "Some people just have no appreciation for the value of their lives when compared with their goods."
"Has anyone been killed so far...?" Spencer asked uncertainly. "I don't think I've seen more than ten people the whole time we've been here, and most of them ran the second they saw us. Actually," he spoke up, "that's weird, isn't it? I thought Rome was like the biggest city in Europe, where is everybody?"
"Probably down in Pompeii," da Vinci said, refilling her drink from Musashi's blender. "It's summertime, no one wants to be in the city unless they have to be. Besides, the population of a given Singularity is almost always lower than it would've been in proper human history."
"Next stop, Domus Transitoria!" came the call over the bus' PA. "The Domus Transitoria will be our next stop!"
"About bloody time," Boudica crowed in delight from beneath the brutal-looking helmet she'd just happened to have on hand when they picked her up.
Drake squinted at the speaker over their heads. "Eh?" Batting aside one of the balloons that had started to drift down from the ceiling of the bus, the pirate turned to Nobu. "You've got a twelve-year-old behind the wheel of this thing?"
"The Rider class container came with driver's ed," Nobu said with a shrug. "Nobukatsu's a grown man, he'll figure it out."
"He sounds cute!" Musashi shoved her drink into Ko's off hand and trotted up the aisle. "I'mma go say hi!"
"I'm going with the Grand-Bisexual," Spencer said, getting to his feet. "Musashi's tastes are impeccable and I must bear witness. Excuse me."
With one hand on the overhead bar, he followed the path the sword saint wove to get to the front of the bus, peering over her shoulder as she leaned against the front seat.
"Oh my god!" Musashi blurted out. "It really is a super cute boy!"
Musashi was, as always, exactly right in this, the area of her expertise. Nobukatsu was wearing what Spencer could only describe as a pastel-toned bus conductor's uniform, complete with bowtie and jaunty beret.
Drake's initial guess was, in Spencer's assessment, atrociously off-base, or at least unkind. If anything, Nobukatsu looked like the kind of guy that would get carded for alcohol until he was forty, and even then only because he'd finally look older than twenty four. A beard would instantly make him look much older, if he could grow one.
And holy shit was that a thought and a half…
A strangled, high-pitched noise escaped his throat before he managed to cut it off.
Musashi was already smirking at him as he felt his face heat up.
"It'snotmyfaultyou'reright!" he stumbled out, looking anywhere but at Nobukatsu.
"Hey," Musashi asked the bus driver, leaning out further around the drivers seat to lean on the dash, "you come here often?"
"To this bus? Or to Rome?" Nobukatsu asked uncertainly.
"Sure," Musashi said smoothly.
"N-no," he responded, clearly uncertain how to handle her attention. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to the road ahead of them.
"As long as you don't crash the bus you both have permission to court my little brother! I look forward to the bribes you will present to me for his hand!" Nobu called from a few rows back.
Spencer's head whipped around. "I was no-"
"It's on!" Musashi crowed.
"I am not competing with the Grand-Bisexual!" Spencer yelled back. "Also," he added to Nobukatsu, more quietly, "I am sorry."
"Big sis can be a lot to handle. You're doing pretty well, so far," the Servant said, still looking forward. "She hasn't shot you yet. I think that means she likes you."
"I think you need this more than I do," Musashi said, handing Spencer a margarita, from somewhere.
He drank it gratefully. This was only the third one. He'd be fine.
The butler was middle-aged, with very tidy curls and a plain but well-made tunic. Equally well-made was the sword he was randomly swinging at them - could've gone to the final round of Forged in Fire easily, unless Spencer missed his guess.
"I will die at my post before I allow the apartments of the Domina to be sullied by the footsteps of barbarian harlots!"
"'Barbarian'?" Nobu's smile was no less dangerous for its authenticity as she threw back her head and laughed with wild abandon.
"You guys touch your food with your bare hands," she jeered. "Most of you don't even wash 'em first! Half of you have never even seen calligraphy, let alone held a brush!" She plucked the sword out of the man's grip with one hand and poked a finger in his gut with the other. "You people can't even figure out how to keep your emperor in line!"
So saying, she lifted him off his feet by his belt and moved him out of her way like an inconvenient cat, strutting up to the door he'd been guarding. "Don't shit on yourself and then complain about how other nations smell," she concluded without so much as a backward glance.
If the man had anything to say in reply, it was cut off by Boudica casually knocking him unconscious with a single bop of her fist. "I'm going to check on Mash," she announced, swinging the rolled-up tapestry in her other hand over her shoulder and heading back to the bus. "I think she needs someone to talk to."
"Bring me back another margarita!" Jalter called after her.
"Ah, it's locked," Nobu said under her breath, stooping to slip a hand under the massive door and lifting it loose of its hinges and latch in a single fluid motion. The door flopped into the room and onto a Persian rug with a dust-cloud-raising whump, revealing a sitting room featuring what was very obviously a barely-disguised sex couch.
Nobu put a hand on her hip with a huff of satisfaction as Ching Shih and Drake rushed through the now-open door, and looked back over her shoulder at Ko with a fierce grin.
"Don't be shy, now," she said, crimson eyes flashing. "Remember whose party this is!" And she ran inside.
"She's so pretty," Ko whispered as she and Spencer waited for the dust to clear, waving a hand in front of her face. "God, she must think I'm such a creep for staring. Did CLAMP ever do any Servant art for FGO?" she asked suddenly.
"Uh… maybe?" Spencer said as Yolande and Noisette exchanged inscrutable glances. "Who's CLAMP?"
"X/1999 and Rayearth and all that," she said, shaking her head as they followed the raiders into the boudoir. "Doesn't matter, I was just thinking she looks like the kinda women I liked when I was sixteen. Elegant, and delicate."
"... you just saw her tear a door off its hinges with one hand," Priya pointed out with a frown.
Ko shook her head in wonder. "I know, right? Not a movement wasted. Total MILF."
"I am nowhere near drunk enough for this," Spencer mumbled as he watched an entire marble statue get hoisted into the Chinese junk floating above the currently only mildly-burning city of Rome.
The ship's hull had opened like a hungry mouth to allow the statue's entry, and it was almost cartoonish the way the splitting wood planks resembled teeth.
"Ha!" I could hear Drake shout from her own ship. "You call that sacking Rome!? I'll show you sacking Rome! Behold! The Wild Hunt! For treasure!"
Portals rippled through the air as hundreds of Drake's ships manifested themselves, and he took another drink of margarita as Ching Shih's curses echoed in his head. She had much finer control over her fleet, but it could not be denied that Drake had the volume.
'Only in her bloated chest, little brother!' he heard in his head.
Spencer nearly choked on his drink. He hadn't meant to send anything through the link. But that was probably the alcohol.
He quietly burned a couple of command seals with the command of 'loot all the things.'
Hey, ain't no rule saying he couldn't.
Across the square, Boudica led a horde of grimy-looking folk in what looked like plaid pyjama pants toward the bakery district. Several of them appeared to have super saiyan hair, which was probably historically inaccurate, but it looked neat, so Spencer didn't much care.
"D'ya think Indy would rather have unpasteurized honey, or fresh saffron?" Ko called out of the merchant's wagon she was digging through
He had no idea what either of those were used for.
"Porque no los dos?" he offered.
"Damn," Ko said, opening the box she'd just pulled out from under a nobleman's bed and examining the contents, "for a country where only like four people are allowed to wear the color in public, a fuckton of these rich bitches seem to own purple nightgowns on the dl."
"You're surprised by this?" Ching Shih asked, rapping the side of a mahogany armoire as though trying to calculate whether it was actually worth the extra weight. "Men always want to play with their clothes - my first husband's favourite bed game was to have me and my second husband dressed up as honorable consorts and have us address him as though he were the emperor."
Ko bit her lip consideringly. "I can't decide whether I want to see how many bits of purple I can steal and how many patricians I can make lose their minds with worry," she said, "or if I should just pile them all in a heap somewhere under a big Lost and Found sign and see who has the balls to pick them back up."
"There's no point to the first idea," the old pirate advised, "unless you know some modern miracle for removing 'stubborn stains' from silk without ruining it. Little brother," she broke off abruptly, "when was the last time you drank something without alcohol in it?"
Spencer froze, mid-crunch of the nuts he'd been fishing out of the charcuterie platter Nobu'd bullied the staff into bringing them. "Uh…" he said, thinking back, "it was… some time today, I'm almost certain."
His Servant's cold stare told him all he needed to know of her opinion on that, and reluctantly he reached for the carafe of water on the nightstand.
There was the sound of gunfire followed by a loud crash, and Ko leaned over to push aside the curtains for a glance out the window.
"Aw," she said mildly, "Nobu already rubble-ized the Colossus Neronis. I wanted to do that."
"Hey, Nobu?" Ko said, pausing in the middle of sorting her pile of ill-gotten gains. "How do you feel about jade bangles?"
"Mm?" Nobu looked up momentarily from a map of the known world she'd snagged from the last library they'd looted, before waving a hand and going back to examining it. "Don't worry about my taste, you always pick nice stuff."
"No, I mean," Ko elaborated, getting up off the floor of the bus, "this one's too small for me and it's too pretty to throw aside. Here, lemme see…"
Before Nobu could do or say anything, Ko already had one hand clasped around the warlord's wrist and the other slipping the bracelet onto it. She grinned at the results.
"There, I knew it'd fit you; your hand's like half the size of mine."
Spencer raised both eyebrows as Nobu's face flushed red, eyes widening and a tiny choking sound came from her throat.
"Sorry!" Ko flinched back, letting the smaller woman loose of her grip. "D'you have a thing about being touched? I'm really sorry."
"I do not have a thing about being touched!" Nobu shrieked. "Just- warn me next time! I've said this before!"
"Okay," Ko said, wilting a little as she retook her seat on the floor of the bus. "I'm sorry I hurt you."
"'Sorry I hurt you', huh?" Nobu muttered, going back to her map. "Damn right. That innocence is gonna kill somebody one of these days…"
"Oh, senpai," Ko said in embarrassed sympathy as she took in the familiar blue bodysuit, "Nobu dragged you into this, too?"
"Whaaaaat?" Cu asked, scrunching up his nose and turning back to Nobu. "'Senpai'? What kinda weird timeline is this?"
Ko's eyes bugged immediately. She leaned around the Lancer. "Nobu why did you summon a completely separate instance of Cu Chulainn?"
"It's hardly a bachelorette party without a stripper, is it?" Nobu asked with a smirk.
"This is.... thisis.... way better than anything I had even considered planning," Spencer remarked as Ko buried her face in her hands.
"Naturally!" Nobu said proudly, slapping Cu on the ass.
"'ey! Hands off the merchandise!"
"All my party strategies meet with success!" she went on, ignoring him. "Like when I threw Mitsuhide's entire dinner service in the koi pond to intimidate Takechiyo!"
"... who dat?" Spencer asked.
"Kumquat and Tokugawa Ieyasu," Ko mumbled into her hands.
Nobu's laughter was like the clink of a cheap chandelier. The kind made in China and destined for McMansions: joyful and unrestrained, and gaudy in the most delightful way. "You only know Kumquat as Kumquat!?" she asked. "What's up with that? Didn't you have any history lessons growing up?"
"Nope!" Spencer chirped. "World History and physics were mutually exclusive classes at my high school!" No that wasn't right. That was geography and physics. What conflicted with world history? Eh, probably doesn't matter, he thought to himself.
"No way! A Master of Chaldea who doesn't have a clue about history?" Nobu shook her head. "Well, it can't be helped! At least it means you don't have any inherited grudges."
"I assure you I have at least three, but you are not any of them," Spencer promised.
"Are you sure you're cool with this, man?" Ko whispered to Cu, face bright red, barely able to look at him.
"You kiddin'?" He grinned wolfishly. "I can't believe someone finally figured out a way to get paid for doin' this! I might have to get some business cards printed. Now where do I set up?"
Spencer was starting to wonder if Nobu had zero nudity taboos whatsoever. In fact, no one seemed to mind the fact that he was sitting bathside drinking more drinks.
"Roman, we're fine," da Vinci was saying into her comm, reaching backward out of the bath to dry her hands. "We're at the bachelorette party. Didn't you see my note?"
Oh wait, the ride over. The… Nobukatsu thing.
They probably thought he was gay as hell. They weren't wrong. They were just… working on incomplete information. Maybe Nobu didn't know what bisexuality was. Also, poor Katsu, stuck on the bus. That was sad. Very sad. He should get to have fun too, poor guy.
"First of all, what kind of tone do you call that? Second of all, no, we are not coming home right away, the entertainment hasn't even started yet."
There was also the fact that he wasn't staring at all the topless women in the bath. Because he had seen boobs before. Because the internet existed. He'd been inoculated. He had a tolerance. Thank you modern society.
"Well offer Rob time and a half to cover their shifts! He's a janitor not a goat, he can watch a monitor!"
"Oi, oi, oi, what's with that towel?" Nobu demanded, wide-eyed, as Ko exited the changing room. "Isn't it too tight?"
"Can't really be helped," Ko said with a shrug, hands holding the bit of cloth in question as closed as it would go. "Even if I were thinner, I'd still be too big for most things around here. People just aren't as small as they used to be, where I'm from."
"And thank god for that," Nobu muttered under her breath, before saying aloud, "So why don't you just take it off? There's no one here but us."
"Once again, liller- little- ah, words, li-ter-al-ly right here," Spencer said, barely looking up from his poolside drink.
"... well maybe once I'm in the water," Ko hedged, stepping into the bath.
"That's the spirit!" Nobu cried, laying a hand on her shoulder as she took a seat. "No reason to be embarrassed by a chest like that!"
"It's really more the tum…" Ko muttered, hugging her midsection.
"Shut the hell up," Yolande drunkenly interrupted from the bench across the way. "Don't think you're fooling anyone - you're one of those girls who gains weight all over so it doesn't show! You've never had to worry about getting a food baby a day in your life, admit it or shut up!"
"Why don't you take your own advice, poussin?" her sister retorted. "She always gets like this when she's had a few," she added by way of explanation to Nobu and Ko.
"Then we'll ignore her rudeness for now," Nobu said with a dismissive wave as the sisters continued to bicker. "It's only natural that she'd be envious of my bride."
"My what!?" Ko asked in alarm. "Your what?"
"Ohshit!" Spencer slurred, "izzit a double wedding? Do we get double cake!?" Also yay! She didn't mind Ko staring at her after all! Neat.
"Do you find the thought unpleasant?" Nobu asked.
"Well no," said the double-bride-to-be, eyes wide, "but I would have thought a time traveler would have better sense than to propose after I was already engaged to someone else."
"That man," Nobu growled. After a moment she shook her head, and tucked a stray hair behind Ko's ear. "We are not talking about him. Today is about you."
"And strippers!" Spencer shouted, partly to relieve the tension but mostly out of impatience. "Where dat Cu at!?"
Nobu raised an eyebrow. "You certainly know what you like, don't you? Surrounded by naked women and you're all respectful, but that goes out the window when he shows up, eh?"
"Come on, Nobu… everyone's seen boobsh. How many times you getta see the hound of Ulshter do a pole dance? This. Is. anunique. Experience." Spencer looked down at the drink in his hand. "Oh, man, I am plastered."
"So are some of the finest erections in Europe," Ko replied, toasting him. "Clink clink, bitch."
Spencer held his head in his hands, letting the goblet tumble to the tiled floor. "Remember me as I was… Ya know, in case I die… of poison… Wait… isn't Mash immune to… Why did I drink all Mash's drinksh?"
"Not all of them," Mash said mournfully, staring into the bottom of her cup. Suddenly, she downed the remainder of the beverage in a single gulp, and threw the empty cup across the room so hard it tore a chunk out of a fresco on the opposite wall.
"Why do I always have to be the responsible one?" she demanded.
There was an awkward silence. Even the Boisbleu twins looked up from their argument in surprise.
The water of the bath splashed as da Vinci moved to sit beside the Shielder, laying a hand atop hers. "It's okay, Mash. There's a time for seriousness and a time for fun. And this is very much the latter. There's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself."
"Yes there is!" Mash half-screamed, half-cried. "I don't even know who this Heroic Spirit in me is, and I have to trust that they're gonna stay, and help, and-!" She trailed off into another frustrated sob, tossing another cup at the fresco, which finally cracked the wall itself. "It's not fair! You think I like living like this?!"
Awkwardness sealed the lips of the collected party after that, until that seal was broken just a few moments later.
"I think you're scared shitless that you're gonna fuck up your life if you do even one dumb thing," Ko said quietly. "Which you shouldn't be, because everyone who knows you wants you to succeed."
Mash's lilac eyes were wide with shock, staring at Ko, only to snap to Drake when the scarred woman laughed.
"No matter how many times you fuck up," the pirate said, "even if you do something crazy instead of straightlaced, everyone here remembers what it's like to be afraid as a kid. Have fun!" She stood to make her point, hands proudly on her hips as she grinned down at Mash. "Make mistakes! Live a little! Just learn from the times you fail."
There was a brief moment of silence.
It was then broken by Mash wailing again, while Da Vinci continued to pat her on the back, and surreptitiously wave away the extra-large frothy glass Musashi kept thrusting in her direction.
"But m'gritas-!" Musashi whispered, only to get a glare over Mash's head from the inventor.
Drake snorted, snatching the glass from Musashi as she moved through the water. "Oh give it a rest, da Vinci, it's been mankind's go-to social lubricant since the beginning of civilization! You think you're gonna sit here and reinvent the wheel?"
"When I do," da Vinci pronounced, sounding genuinely offended by the suggestion she couldn't, "it will be able to handle parking on a hill without losing its damn mind, I can tell you that much."
"Oh yeah? Somethin' to see if you do." The pirate captain sat on the other side of Mash, and tenderly passed the drink into the girl's hands, "Listen, you're not a pirate, a scallywag, or anything else like that. Doesn't suit you. But that doesn't mean there's no fun to be had in ya." A conspiratorial grin crossed her face when Mash's eyes met hers. "Tell ya what, when we're done here, gonna take you on a little expedition that I think you'll enjoy. You get to go crazy, have as much fun as you want, and I'll worry about being the responsible one. Sound good?"
"And what will that be? We've already picked the best homes in the city clean." Ching Shih asked.
"Chariot racing." Everyone turned to look at Jalter, still leaning against one of the walls. The Avenger had refused to get in the baths with the rest of them; her eyes flicked around the room, as if daring each of them to challenge her idea. Drake blinked at her, as though seeing her for the first time, then grinned.
Mash sniffled, wiping her nose on her arm. "I-I did read about those. In the Hippodrome, right? T-though I guess it'd be a circus, since it's Rome…"
"Sounds like fun." Drake wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders, smiling warmly. "Doubt your little passenger could complain about it, either."
"I… think I like horses?" Mash said timidly.
Ching Shih nodded. "It's decided then."
"... he would've loved you," Nobu was telling Ko quietly. "People always remember his jokes, but he wouldn't have been so funny if he didn't care enough to pay attention to everybody."
Before Spencer could ask who 'he' was, music - modern music - started playing from speakers that had apparently been placed at strategic locations. It was a bit of a surprise, and Spencer looked around in confusion until he noticed a small DJ booth, at which Nobukatsu, still wearing the bus conductor's outfit, was messing with the audio levels.
He moved over to the booth to get a look at the setup, mostly out of curiosity and in no way a desire to avoid the awkwardness of the Mash situation that he was too drunk to be of any assistance with. He didn't really know too much about the intricacies of this kind of thing; mostly what he'd done was setup and tear down for the pow wows. But he still thought this kind of thing was cool. And it was an excuse to hang out with Katsu.
"Hey man, what's all this for?" Spencer said without stumbling over any of the words, with perfect diction and linguistic grace.
Katsu looked at him like he was speaking Greek.
Spencer took a deep breath and then said more slowly, "Was this for?"
"You should sit down before you fall over," Katsu said, indicating the seat next to him in the booth. After sitting down, Katsu smirked and pointed at the exit to the men's changing rooms as the music got louder. "This... is for that."
What emerged from the changing room did actually give Spencer a heart attack. He died, right then and there, he was convinced.
It was one thing to have gotten Cu, the lancery one, in the skintight blue bodysuit, to do a pole dance. What emerged from that room to Curtis Waters' Stunnin' was the very same man, wearing the outfit that previously Spencer had only seen on Nero Bride. The front zipper opened all. The way. Down.
"Awbjgfragbuwhuh," he said eloquently.
"Yup," Katsu agreed, sipping directly from a bottle that had a rope handle tied to it, something that smelled alcoholic but was completely lacking in vibrant colors or crushed ice.
Their deep conversation was drowned out by the uproarious whoops and hollers of all the other women present.
Cu stabbed the Gae Bolg into the stone work, using it as an impromptu pole, which was incredibly impressive because he was pole dancing on a stick rather than a proper rotating pole. It was a magnificent display of control and dexterity and yep, he'd just died again.
Overlapping cries of "take it off! Take it off!" echoed through the baths, but Spencer couldn't actually distinguish who specifically was yelling. The cut of the outfit did allow Cu to shrug out of the top of it, a little, exposing his shoulders through the first 'dance.'
Spencer was transfixed as the first song came to an end, and realized the next song hadn't started playing. He reached past Katsu, who had also died, and fumbled blindly for the right button to get the next song playing.
"Hey man," Spencer said, "you did like… a real good job here… you're a cool guy Kazoo- Kazsu. Kazsu. If yer ev'r 'round Chaldea I'll buy you a drink 'r somethin'. Yer a hard worker, so… diligent… you should get to have fun too." Spencer patted Katsu's head. "The coolest."
Katsu made an indeterminate noise before jolting away from his hand, "Not in front of my m-big sis," he mumbled.
"Oh, sorry," Spencer said.
They both went back to staring at Cu, who was now entirely toppless, the multitude of zippers slowly exposing more skin.
"... I didn't think humans could bend that way," Katsu said.
"Yup," Spencer responded.
"Should you be lifting that?" Priya asked, eyeing up the plaster statue in his arms.
"Oh gib me a few hours and I'll be nice and sober prolly," Spencer responded. "And what's the worst that could happen? Huh? I drop the loot?" He made a shrugging motion and the head of the statue tumbled to the ground, cracking in half as it landed. "Oops."
"Are you sure you only brought three bags?" Ko was wheedling with da Vinci, still trying to get the paint off her hands from her impromptu renovation of the Pantheon.
"As I've said, I was picked up outside my room. I could only grab the ones in there, not from my workshop or the armory, and genius or no, I can't make more with such limited tools. We'll just have to make do."
"We could also burn the rest of the loot," Boudica suggested, with Jalter nodding behind her. "It is traditional. We could also salt the earth, next!"
"We'll head down to the harbor first," Nobu decided. "Break that chariot race tie with a boat race! Then maybe I can pull together some fireworks for us, if-"
Nobukatsu tugged on her sleeve, interrupting her.
"Eh? What is it?"
"Mo-" Nobu glared at Nobukatsu. "-big sister, your grail is running low."
"Mm, how low are we talking here?"
"Um, an hour or two…?"
"Have the fake Olympics ended yet?"
"I believe they're in the middle of their closing ceremonies."
"Then we've got plenty of time!" She put the young man in a loose headlock and ruffled his hair. "Traffic coming out of Pompeii's gonna be a bitch, don't worry so much, you'll turn into an old man."
"Oh," came a velvet-soft contralto voice from the corner, making everyone's heads whip around in surprise, "I believe he's worrying an entirely proportional amount, considering the existential threat that Furiko's intended has on a leash."
"Hi, shishou," Ko said, in the oddly self-conscious tone of voice Spencer had previously only ever heard her use in reference to unexpected appearances by Loki or Odin in a movie or tv show.
"Were you here this entire time?!" Nobu squawked, hand scrambling behind her for a musket.
"I am an Assassin," Scathach said mildly. She pointed her spear at the huddle of Chaldea staff members, making one among their number 'eep' quietly. "As is Mata Hari, whom you also completely failed to notice."
"I noticed!" Spencer said proudly, raising his hand.
Scathach patted him on the head. "Well done, lad."
"Yay! I did a good job!" Spencer dimly realized he was far too excited about being praised.
"The point stands," the spearwoman continued, eyeing Nobu up and down. "Inevitably, Adam Ziegler will come looking for his bride, and he will have Socrates with him when he does. I suggest you resolve whatever business you have with her before then."
"I for one would love to not be here when the physical incarnation of fuck-all-magic collapses the singularity around my ears," Spencer remarked.
"Fiiiiiiine," Nobu pouted. "Pack it up, Nobukatsu, party's over."
"... but I just got these robes...!" Mash whined.
Adam | Indy
"Well, that wasn't so bad," Adam sighed as everyone slid clear of the Rayshift pods. In the man's hand was a gaudy crown of gold-plated silver, festooned with more moonstones than the average Apollo mission.
"To match oneself against the greatest warrior of all time was thrilling," Socrates agreed, fingering the bronze medal around his neck. Behind him, Achilles, wearing more gold than Mr. T, preened.
Once Roman had confirmed that Ko was simply at a bachelorette party with Da Vinci (and a few others), Adam had been able to finally let go and enjoy Nerofest. Even if he hadn't won a medal, he'd beaten all of his old high school records; the crown had just been a bonus.
"Wasn't so bad my left buttock," Toby grumbled, his cane practically slamming into the ground with every step. "Did all of you completely forget about the almost constant assault on our eardrums? I'm going to have tinnitus at this rate."
"On this, we are in agreement," Ozymandias pouted - though the arrogant pharaoh would have denied even knowing of such an expression's existence. "Had we been in the civilized world, I would have ordered her executed the second time she dared try to sing."
"God, if only…"
"I think Nero-chan tried her very best," Ritsuka countered, maybe slightly defensively. "She probably wanted something relaxing and, ah, self-actualizing after what happened during Septem."
"It was a completely glorious experience!" Achilles flipped his green hair back, for what had to be about the thousandth time. "Who'd have thought the woman could organize such a festival!"
"Could've done without her specific musical accompaniment, but you're gonna tell me you didn't have fun once we knew Ko was safe?" Dory said, a bronze riflery medal proudly worn around his neck.
Smug bastard. A few centimeters to the left and that medal would have been his.
"Hah!" Mordred leaned out around his master to point at Toby, a small number of gold and silver medals clinking together from the motion. "They're just salty that Poindexter won the lottery for the crown."
"How dare you," the king of an antique land puffed up. "I have no interest in such a gaudy piece of jewelry!"
The Sun King had, in fact, held on to his ticket quite tightly during the drawing, Adam recalled. But he wasn't going to strip the man of his self-delusions; that was Toby's job. Such as it was.
"In any case," Adam pointed out, as the door into the corridors of Chaldea opened before them. "The point is-"
Ko's eyes met his, just before she was swung and dipped into a kiss by a stranger. Her hands flew up, gripping the other person's shoulders, clinging tightly to folds of red cloth.
Ritsuka stared.
Spencer, Dory and Toby stared.
Achilles, laden with more medals than any one human neck should be able to hold, stared.
Ozymandias, arms crossed over his chest, quirked an eyebrow.
But mostly, Adam stared.
"... WHAT KIND OF MONKEY'S PAW BULLSHITTERY IS THIS?!" Fionn blurted out from over the loudspeaker.
The short, Marie Kondo-looking woman - she wore a red cloak and a peaked hat, a katana at her side - broke off from her stolen kiss to face Adam. Staring the taller man down, her hand pointed first at her own narrowed eyes and then to his own, a vicious, possessive snarl etched on her face.
"Interloper," she hissed.
Adam's hand was already in a fist, the red markings on its back glowing.
"By my Command Seal-" he began, the blood roaring in his ears-
- but the woman was already gone.
"... well," Ko said eventually, wiping her lips and staring thoughtfully at the lipstick that came away on her hand, "that certainly happened-"
"-TOBY!" Spencer screamed from somewhere behind his fiancée. "MEME-OSAAAAAAAS~"
Adam | Indy
The door to Akuta's room cracked open slowly and stopped almost immediately. All Adam could see was one brown eye, staring murderously back at him.
"What?"
His heart was pounding in his chest - he'd all but sprinted down the halls to get here.
"My-my fiancée," he gasped out. "We don't know where she or Spencer is. We think she's been-"
"-not my problem."
The door closed.
"Fuck you too, bitch," he muttered darkly, turning away from the last Master's room, only to stagger as his legs finally won their argument with his body. He moved into a controlled collapse against the wall, panting, as he tried to martial his thoughts.
About one hour ago, an unknown vehicle had appeared in Chaldea. It had then collected quite a few of the organization's Servants - thankfully none of his - as well as both Spencer and Ko, before speeding off… somewhere.
Given that there was actually literal nothing outside of Chaldea, exactly where they'd been kidnapped to was quite the puzzle. Roman and the techs were working on that - something about following spiritron trails - but he was rallying the troops. Or attempting to rally.
"This is Ritsuka," the Japanese teen sounded worried through his earpiece. "I can't find Mashu anywhere either."
"Can't make contact with Drake, no one's seen Boudica or Priya that I've spoken with." Dory said, "I've got Mordred with me, still making a sweep."
"Nobody's missing on my end, but that seems to be the exception," Toby relayed. "Gonna go grab the Pharaoh. Roman, since it's sounding like an all hands scenario, I'm sending Abby your way."
"...Spencer is also nowhere to be found," Adam noted. "Hinako is… present. And not coming." The bitch.
"Roger that. And yes, this is a serious problem indeed," Roman confirmed. "But I think I have it. We've tracked them to the Italian peninsula, circa 61 AD. One year after the Septem Singularity."
"Doctor," Ritz's tone was deadly serious. "Do you think this might have something to do with whoever is responsible for the Incineration of Humanity?"
"I'm not ruling it out," he said grimly. "They've taken da Vinci too. Aside from you, Fujimaru, there isn't anyone more essential to Chaldea's operations."
A brief pause. "Akuta Hinako isn't coming unless it's directly related," Roman continued. "But I'm mobilizing the rest of you. Bring the strongest Servants you have - for if we cannot find da Vinci-chan and the others, I don't know if we can continue onwards."
Just what he wanted to hear when the biggest thing on his plate for the day had been further exploration of his not-Reinforcement.
Adam made a fist. "By my Command Seal," he declared, the back of his left hand burning. "Socrates - meet me in the Rayshift Chamber." It might have been a waste of resources - but he wasn't in the mindset for the inevitable "discussion" with the Ruler about his decision.
He didn't run to the Chamber - his already-racing heart wouldn't let him.
She had to be safe. She was tough, strong, and being trained by a very scary lady that he'd broken his "no Wikipedia'ing Servants" rule for.
Unfortunately, Scathach was also nowhere to be found, either.
The rest of them were already prepped to climb into the Rayshift pods when he arrived.
"Alright, you're here… fucking hell, man." Toby ran a shaky hand back through his hair to try and calm himself, all while very deliberately ignoring the Pharaoh beside him.
Dory approached, putting a hand on Adam's shoulder and giving it a small squeeze, softly speaking in the large chamber, "Would ask if you're okay, but, y'know, understandable freakouts. We'll find her."
"Yeah," he heard himself say. "We will."
"Right. Time's wasting," Roman's voice came over the intercom. "Are you all ready?"
Finn stood hovering to the side, hands clenching and unclenching impotently around his spear. He looked as though he wanted desperately to say something, but finally went with a simple, "Good luck," before turning and stalking out of the room.
Finn had admittedly taken Ko's disappearance as seriously as Adam had. Unfortunately, he was a babbler - and Adam had needed action.
The plan he'd put together had been simple. Sweep Chaldea. Search through all of time and space. Tear through any opposition to get Ko back.
Verbalize concerns about what his fiance had gotten into had not been on the docket. He had had to make that very clear to Finn.
On to step three.
They stepped into the tubes, and the pods slid closed.
The wash of sparkles, the flash of light, the sensation of going through a tunnel, a roar of not-wind - and then they were in the center of… some kind of stadium? It didn't look like the Colosseum - the stone walls and seating aside, it reminded him of a massive high school sports field more than anything - an ovaloid green surrounded by a red clay track. People were crowded onto the stands, waving gaudily colored flags; banners were draped upon the walls; cheers roared and rising, echoing all around them in the passionate ring he'd previously heard most strongly at a soccer match in Barcelona.
"Olympia Laudere!" A voice boomed from behind him. Turning to face it, he saw a young blonde woman in white gauze and red silk, standing imperiously on a small raised platform. "Umu! All challengers shall now take the stage!"
"Are you fucking kidding me with this right now!?" Toby was muttering angrily under his breath, growing into a yell as he went. "Nope, just, just nope, fuck this, fuck that, fuck her and fuck no! No, we are not fucking dealing with—!"
Spencer
"Oh we have to hit up the Pantheon after this," Ko said, stirring a glass whose main contents were crushed ice and sugar with her straw. "I wanna paint Kilroy Was Here around the skylight."
"I mean you haven't really sacked a place until you've defaced a couple of monuments. I was thinking of stealing the head off a statue or two," Spencer responded, sipping a drink that was either barely alcoholic or incredibly alcoholic and well hidden. The truth would reveal itself in about twenty minutes. He'd already drunk two of them.
"I want to burn the Vatican!" Jeanne Alter shouted.
"Can we?" Spencer asked. "Was the building around yet or…"
"Not 'til the 4th century at the earliest, unfortunately," Ko said, calling, "Sorry, Jalter!"
"... I knew that!" came the belated, highly indignant reply.
"Why are we burning down anything?!" Mash demanded to know. "Da Vinci-san, you're Italian, surely you won't stand for this cultural vandalism!"
"Actually," da Vinci said, gesturing with the cocktail in her hand, "this is a self-collapsing, destructive singularity - it most closely resembles Singularity F in that regard. Studying its collapse on-site will help us learn more about the mechanism through which the incineration of humanity gathers energy. So really, the more mayhem the better." She finished her explanation with a dark mumble into her glass about someone named Giovanni, and a long swig of her drink.
"But…" Mash still looked distressed.
"I knew that!" Jalter said again, almost out of the blue. "I'm not stupid, okay? I just… wanted to blow it up. On principle. Because we. are in. the place the Vatican... will be."
"Here, sweetpea," Musashi said (she… hadn't been with them, earlier. And where did she even get that bucket of margarita mix?), pouring the contents of her portable blender into a glass and shoving it into Mash's hands. "Have a margarita, you'll feel better."
"No, thank you-"
"Did I just hear someone turn down a drink?" came the voice of their hostess, followed by the lady herself stalking up the aisle. She was carrying a gaudily painted marble statue taller than she was in one hand, and an all-too familiar golden chalice, filled with a cloudy white liquid, in the other.
"Oda-san," Mash began, before the tiny warlord sloshed her cup in the Shielder's direction.
"This is a party!" Nobu declared. "If that margarita is still full when I next see you, there will be a reckoning! A terrible reckoning the likes of which you have never seen, Eggplant! And you!" She whirled on Ko, nearly taking off Spencer's nose with the tip of the statue. "Are you not entertained? I don't see a pile of loot anywhere around you!"
Spencer took the opportunity, while Nobu's back was turned, to quickly grab Mash's drink, knock it back in one gulp, then set the glass down in front of her.
'You're welcome' he mouthed, giving her a double thumbs-up as she stared at him in horror.
Ko hoisted the da Vinci-made duffle from under her seat. "Oh, I picked up a couple of things at the markets - it's all tucked away so I don't forget where I left it."
Nobu let out a loud whoop. "Marvelous! You won't be able to sit atop your heaped prizes with a drink in hand, of course - you can always use mine, if you like."
Ko put a hand over her heart and bowed in her seat. "I would be honoured, Oda-dono."
"Aw, don't be like that!" Nobunaga pouted. "Call me Nobu like usual!"
Ko grinned, and toasted her. "You got it, Nobu!"
Spencer took a moment to zone out of the conversation, observing the interior of the party bus they'd been… kidnapped? Invited into? Well, that was a moot point. It wasn't too dissimilar from the party busses that used to bring people down from Portland to the casino he'd used to work at. At the back of the bus was a TV connected to the karaoke system, with bench seats running along both sides, with a path down the middle. The bench seats were occasionally broken up by embedded coolers containing drinks and light snacks.
Balloons floated around the ceiling, having come loose from where they'd once been tied to the overhead bars. Ko batted one away as she sang into the wireless mic some song about 'becoming an otaking.'
He had no idea what that meant, but Mash looked visibly horrified by it. There were only so many conclusions one could draw from that. It was probably something no responsible person should be doing. Spencer continued trying to figure out Mash's reaction until he caught the phrase 'the way of the otaku,' and at that point stopped wondering; he remembered Mash's reaction to Dr. Roman's love of Magi Mari. Which spawned another thought, should they tell Roman he was being catfished by an incub-
The bus jolted as it drove over a small bump, and Spencer lost the thought.
"-ever in a million years think our first Singularity would be for a hen do?" he heard Priya ask the Boisbleu twins.
"Honestly if you'd asked me yesterday, my money would have been on Miss Bathory kidnapping us to plan a surprise party for Ritsuka," one of them said bluntly. "At least we can drink here."
"And pick up ancient reagents all in one place," the other added - her eyes were lighter, was it Noisette or Yolande who had the dark eyes? "It's not quite the Terrasses du Port, but for our purposes…"
"Well I'm certainly not complaining," Priya said, grinning at the brunette seated across the aisle from her. "Thanks again for getting us in on this one, Greta."
"Of course," Mata Hari replied with a frankly dangerous wink. "What are friends for?"
"Spencer-san," Mash whispered, shaking him out of his eavesdropping, "does Ko-san understand that sacking a city usually means killing a lot of people?"
"Hazard of the trade," Ching Shih said without hesitation, reaching between the pair to grab another CBD gummy shaped like a diamond ring from the box behind them. "Some people just have no appreciation for the value of their lives when compared with their goods."
"Has anyone been killed so far...?" Spencer asked uncertainly. "I don't think I've seen more than ten people the whole time we've been here, and most of them ran the second they saw us. Actually," he spoke up, "that's weird, isn't it? I thought Rome was like the biggest city in Europe, where is everybody?"
"Probably down in Pompeii," da Vinci said, refilling her drink from Musashi's blender. "It's summertime, no one wants to be in the city unless they have to be. Besides, the population of a given Singularity is almost always lower than it would've been in proper human history."
"Next stop, Domus Transitoria!" came the call over the bus' PA. "The Domus Transitoria will be our next stop!"
"About bloody time," Boudica crowed in delight from beneath the brutal-looking helmet she'd just happened to have on hand when they picked her up.
Drake squinted at the speaker over their heads. "Eh?" Batting aside one of the balloons that had started to drift down from the ceiling of the bus, the pirate turned to Nobu. "You've got a twelve-year-old behind the wheel of this thing?"
"The Rider class container came with driver's ed," Nobu said with a shrug. "Nobukatsu's a grown man, he'll figure it out."
"He sounds cute!" Musashi shoved her drink into Ko's off hand and trotted up the aisle. "I'mma go say hi!"
"I'm going with the Grand-Bisexual," Spencer said, getting to his feet. "Musashi's tastes are impeccable and I must bear witness. Excuse me."
With one hand on the overhead bar, he followed the path the sword saint wove to get to the front of the bus, peering over her shoulder as she leaned against the front seat.
"Oh my god!" Musashi blurted out. "It really is a super cute boy!"
Musashi was, as always, exactly right in this, the area of her expertise. Nobukatsu was wearing what Spencer could only describe as a pastel-toned bus conductor's uniform, complete with bowtie and jaunty beret.
Drake's initial guess was, in Spencer's assessment, atrociously off-base, or at least unkind. If anything, Nobukatsu looked like the kind of guy that would get carded for alcohol until he was forty, and even then only because he'd finally look older than twenty four. A beard would instantly make him look much older, if he could grow one.
And holy shit was that a thought and a half…
A strangled, high-pitched noise escaped his throat before he managed to cut it off.
Musashi was already smirking at him as he felt his face heat up.
"It'snotmyfaultyou'reright!" he stumbled out, looking anywhere but at Nobukatsu.
"Hey," Musashi asked the bus driver, leaning out further around the drivers seat to lean on the dash, "you come here often?"
"To this bus? Or to Rome?" Nobukatsu asked uncertainly.
"Sure," Musashi said smoothly.
"N-no," he responded, clearly uncertain how to handle her attention. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to the road ahead of them.
"As long as you don't crash the bus you both have permission to court my little brother! I look forward to the bribes you will present to me for his hand!" Nobu called from a few rows back.
Spencer's head whipped around. "I was no-"
"It's on!" Musashi crowed.
"I am not competing with the Grand-Bisexual!" Spencer yelled back. "Also," he added to Nobukatsu, more quietly, "I am sorry."
"Big sis can be a lot to handle. You're doing pretty well, so far," the Servant said, still looking forward. "She hasn't shot you yet. I think that means she likes you."
"I think you need this more than I do," Musashi said, handing Spencer a margarita, from somewhere.
He drank it gratefully. This was only the third one. He'd be fine.
The butler was middle-aged, with very tidy curls and a plain but well-made tunic. Equally well-made was the sword he was randomly swinging at them - could've gone to the final round of Forged in Fire easily, unless Spencer missed his guess.
"I will die at my post before I allow the apartments of the Domina to be sullied by the footsteps of barbarian harlots!"
"'Barbarian'?" Nobu's smile was no less dangerous for its authenticity as she threw back her head and laughed with wild abandon.
"You guys touch your food with your bare hands," she jeered. "Most of you don't even wash 'em first! Half of you have never even seen calligraphy, let alone held a brush!" She plucked the sword out of the man's grip with one hand and poked a finger in his gut with the other. "You people can't even figure out how to keep your emperor in line!"
So saying, she lifted him off his feet by his belt and moved him out of her way like an inconvenient cat, strutting up to the door he'd been guarding. "Don't shit on yourself and then complain about how other nations smell," she concluded without so much as a backward glance.
If the man had anything to say in reply, it was cut off by Boudica casually knocking him unconscious with a single bop of her fist. "I'm going to check on Mash," she announced, swinging the rolled-up tapestry in her other hand over her shoulder and heading back to the bus. "I think she needs someone to talk to."
"Bring me back another margarita!" Jalter called after her.
"Ah, it's locked," Nobu said under her breath, stooping to slip a hand under the massive door and lifting it loose of its hinges and latch in a single fluid motion. The door flopped into the room and onto a Persian rug with a dust-cloud-raising whump, revealing a sitting room featuring what was very obviously a barely-disguised sex couch.
Nobu put a hand on her hip with a huff of satisfaction as Ching Shih and Drake rushed through the now-open door, and looked back over her shoulder at Ko with a fierce grin.
"Don't be shy, now," she said, crimson eyes flashing. "Remember whose party this is!" And she ran inside.
"She's so pretty," Ko whispered as she and Spencer waited for the dust to clear, waving a hand in front of her face. "God, she must think I'm such a creep for staring. Did CLAMP ever do any Servant art for FGO?" she asked suddenly.
"Uh… maybe?" Spencer said as Yolande and Noisette exchanged inscrutable glances. "Who's CLAMP?"
"X/1999 and Rayearth and all that," she said, shaking her head as they followed the raiders into the boudoir. "Doesn't matter, I was just thinking she looks like the kinda women I liked when I was sixteen. Elegant, and delicate."
"... you just saw her tear a door off its hinges with one hand," Priya pointed out with a frown.
Ko shook her head in wonder. "I know, right? Not a movement wasted. Total MILF."
"I am nowhere near drunk enough for this," Spencer mumbled as he watched an entire marble statue get hoisted into the Chinese junk floating above the currently only mildly-burning city of Rome.
The ship's hull had opened like a hungry mouth to allow the statue's entry, and it was almost cartoonish the way the splitting wood planks resembled teeth.
"Ha!" I could hear Drake shout from her own ship. "You call that sacking Rome!? I'll show you sacking Rome! Behold! The Wild Hunt! For treasure!"
Portals rippled through the air as hundreds of Drake's ships manifested themselves, and he took another drink of margarita as Ching Shih's curses echoed in his head. She had much finer control over her fleet, but it could not be denied that Drake had the volume.
'Only in her bloated chest, little brother!' he heard in his head.
Spencer nearly choked on his drink. He hadn't meant to send anything through the link. But that was probably the alcohol.
He quietly burned a couple of command seals with the command of 'loot all the things.'
Hey, ain't no rule saying he couldn't.
Across the square, Boudica led a horde of grimy-looking folk in what looked like plaid pyjama pants toward the bakery district. Several of them appeared to have super saiyan hair, which was probably historically inaccurate, but it looked neat, so Spencer didn't much care.
"D'ya think Indy would rather have unpasteurized honey, or fresh saffron?" Ko called out of the merchant's wagon she was digging through
He had no idea what either of those were used for.
"Porque no los dos?" he offered.
"Damn," Ko said, opening the box she'd just pulled out from under a nobleman's bed and examining the contents, "for a country where only like four people are allowed to wear the color in public, a fuckton of these rich bitches seem to own purple nightgowns on the dl."
"You're surprised by this?" Ching Shih asked, rapping the side of a mahogany armoire as though trying to calculate whether it was actually worth the extra weight. "Men always want to play with their clothes - my first husband's favourite bed game was to have me and my second husband dressed up as honorable consorts and have us address him as though he were the emperor."
Ko bit her lip consideringly. "I can't decide whether I want to see how many bits of purple I can steal and how many patricians I can make lose their minds with worry," she said, "or if I should just pile them all in a heap somewhere under a big Lost and Found sign and see who has the balls to pick them back up."
"There's no point to the first idea," the old pirate advised, "unless you know some modern miracle for removing 'stubborn stains' from silk without ruining it. Little brother," she broke off abruptly, "when was the last time you drank something without alcohol in it?"
Spencer froze, mid-crunch of the nuts he'd been fishing out of the charcuterie platter Nobu'd bullied the staff into bringing them. "Uh…" he said, thinking back, "it was… some time today, I'm almost certain."
His Servant's cold stare told him all he needed to know of her opinion on that, and reluctantly he reached for the carafe of water on the nightstand.
There was the sound of gunfire followed by a loud crash, and Ko leaned over to push aside the curtains for a glance out the window.
"Aw," she said mildly, "Nobu already rubble-ized the Colossus Neronis. I wanted to do that."
"Hey, Nobu?" Ko said, pausing in the middle of sorting her pile of ill-gotten gains. "How do you feel about jade bangles?"
"Mm?" Nobu looked up momentarily from a map of the known world she'd snagged from the last library they'd looted, before waving a hand and going back to examining it. "Don't worry about my taste, you always pick nice stuff."
"No, I mean," Ko elaborated, getting up off the floor of the bus, "this one's too small for me and it's too pretty to throw aside. Here, lemme see…"
Before Nobu could do or say anything, Ko already had one hand clasped around the warlord's wrist and the other slipping the bracelet onto it. She grinned at the results.
"There, I knew it'd fit you; your hand's like half the size of mine."
Spencer raised both eyebrows as Nobu's face flushed red, eyes widening and a tiny choking sound came from her throat.
"Sorry!" Ko flinched back, letting the smaller woman loose of her grip. "D'you have a thing about being touched? I'm really sorry."
"I do not have a thing about being touched!" Nobu shrieked. "Just- warn me next time! I've said this before!"
"Okay," Ko said, wilting a little as she retook her seat on the floor of the bus. "I'm sorry I hurt you."
"'Sorry I hurt you', huh?" Nobu muttered, going back to her map. "Damn right. That innocence is gonna kill somebody one of these days…"
"Oh, senpai," Ko said in embarrassed sympathy as she took in the familiar blue bodysuit, "Nobu dragged you into this, too?"
"Whaaaaat?" Cu asked, scrunching up his nose and turning back to Nobu. "'Senpai'? What kinda weird timeline is this?"
Ko's eyes bugged immediately. She leaned around the Lancer. "Nobu why did you summon a completely separate instance of Cu Chulainn?"
"It's hardly a bachelorette party without a stripper, is it?" Nobu asked with a smirk.
"This is.... thisis.... way better than anything I had even considered planning," Spencer remarked as Ko buried her face in her hands.
"Naturally!" Nobu said proudly, slapping Cu on the ass.
"'ey! Hands off the merchandise!"
"All my party strategies meet with success!" she went on, ignoring him. "Like when I threw Mitsuhide's entire dinner service in the koi pond to intimidate Takechiyo!"
"... who dat?" Spencer asked.
"Kumquat and Tokugawa Ieyasu," Ko mumbled into her hands.
Nobu's laughter was like the clink of a cheap chandelier. The kind made in China and destined for McMansions: joyful and unrestrained, and gaudy in the most delightful way. "You only know Kumquat as Kumquat!?" she asked. "What's up with that? Didn't you have any history lessons growing up?"
"Nope!" Spencer chirped. "World History and physics were mutually exclusive classes at my high school!" No that wasn't right. That was geography and physics. What conflicted with world history? Eh, probably doesn't matter, he thought to himself.
"No way! A Master of Chaldea who doesn't have a clue about history?" Nobu shook her head. "Well, it can't be helped! At least it means you don't have any inherited grudges."
"I assure you I have at least three, but you are not any of them," Spencer promised.
"Are you sure you're cool with this, man?" Ko whispered to Cu, face bright red, barely able to look at him.
"You kiddin'?" He grinned wolfishly. "I can't believe someone finally figured out a way to get paid for doin' this! I might have to get some business cards printed. Now where do I set up?"
Spencer was starting to wonder if Nobu had zero nudity taboos whatsoever. In fact, no one seemed to mind the fact that he was sitting bathside drinking more drinks.
"Roman, we're fine," da Vinci was saying into her comm, reaching backward out of the bath to dry her hands. "We're at the bachelorette party. Didn't you see my note?"
Oh wait, the ride over. The… Nobukatsu thing.
They probably thought he was gay as hell. They weren't wrong. They were just… working on incomplete information. Maybe Nobu didn't know what bisexuality was. Also, poor Katsu, stuck on the bus. That was sad. Very sad. He should get to have fun too, poor guy.
"First of all, what kind of tone do you call that? Second of all, no, we are not coming home right away, the entertainment hasn't even started yet."
There was also the fact that he wasn't staring at all the topless women in the bath. Because he had seen boobs before. Because the internet existed. He'd been inoculated. He had a tolerance. Thank you modern society.
"Well offer Rob time and a half to cover their shifts! He's a janitor not a goat, he can watch a monitor!"
"Oi, oi, oi, what's with that towel?" Nobu demanded, wide-eyed, as Ko exited the changing room. "Isn't it too tight?"
"Can't really be helped," Ko said with a shrug, hands holding the bit of cloth in question as closed as it would go. "Even if I were thinner, I'd still be too big for most things around here. People just aren't as small as they used to be, where I'm from."
"And thank god for that," Nobu muttered under her breath, before saying aloud, "So why don't you just take it off? There's no one here but us."
"Once again, liller- little- ah, words, li-ter-al-ly right here," Spencer said, barely looking up from his poolside drink.
"... well maybe once I'm in the water," Ko hedged, stepping into the bath.
"That's the spirit!" Nobu cried, laying a hand on her shoulder as she took a seat. "No reason to be embarrassed by a chest like that!"
"It's really more the tum…" Ko muttered, hugging her midsection.
"Shut the hell up," Yolande drunkenly interrupted from the bench across the way. "Don't think you're fooling anyone - you're one of those girls who gains weight all over so it doesn't show! You've never had to worry about getting a food baby a day in your life, admit it or shut up!"
"Why don't you take your own advice, poussin?" her sister retorted. "She always gets like this when she's had a few," she added by way of explanation to Nobu and Ko.
"Then we'll ignore her rudeness for now," Nobu said with a dismissive wave as the sisters continued to bicker. "It's only natural that she'd be envious of my bride."
"My what!?" Ko asked in alarm. "Your what?"
"Ohshit!" Spencer slurred, "izzit a double wedding? Do we get double cake!?" Also yay! She didn't mind Ko staring at her after all! Neat.
"Do you find the thought unpleasant?" Nobu asked.
"Well no," said the double-bride-to-be, eyes wide, "but I would have thought a time traveler would have better sense than to propose after I was already engaged to someone else."
"That man," Nobu growled. After a moment she shook her head, and tucked a stray hair behind Ko's ear. "We are not talking about him. Today is about you."
"And strippers!" Spencer shouted, partly to relieve the tension but mostly out of impatience. "Where dat Cu at!?"
Nobu raised an eyebrow. "You certainly know what you like, don't you? Surrounded by naked women and you're all respectful, but that goes out the window when he shows up, eh?"
"Come on, Nobu… everyone's seen boobsh. How many times you getta see the hound of Ulshter do a pole dance? This. Is. anunique. Experience." Spencer looked down at the drink in his hand. "Oh, man, I am plastered."
"So are some of the finest erections in Europe," Ko replied, toasting him. "Clink clink, bitch."
Spencer held his head in his hands, letting the goblet tumble to the tiled floor. "Remember me as I was… Ya know, in case I die… of poison… Wait… isn't Mash immune to… Why did I drink all Mash's drinksh?"
"Not all of them," Mash said mournfully, staring into the bottom of her cup. Suddenly, she downed the remainder of the beverage in a single gulp, and threw the empty cup across the room so hard it tore a chunk out of a fresco on the opposite wall.
"Why do I always have to be the responsible one?" she demanded.
There was an awkward silence. Even the Boisbleu twins looked up from their argument in surprise.
The water of the bath splashed as da Vinci moved to sit beside the Shielder, laying a hand atop hers. "It's okay, Mash. There's a time for seriousness and a time for fun. And this is very much the latter. There's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself."
"Yes there is!" Mash half-screamed, half-cried. "I don't even know who this Heroic Spirit in me is, and I have to trust that they're gonna stay, and help, and-!" She trailed off into another frustrated sob, tossing another cup at the fresco, which finally cracked the wall itself. "It's not fair! You think I like living like this?!"
Awkwardness sealed the lips of the collected party after that, until that seal was broken just a few moments later.
"I think you're scared shitless that you're gonna fuck up your life if you do even one dumb thing," Ko said quietly. "Which you shouldn't be, because everyone who knows you wants you to succeed."
Mash's lilac eyes were wide with shock, staring at Ko, only to snap to Drake when the scarred woman laughed.
"No matter how many times you fuck up," the pirate said, "even if you do something crazy instead of straightlaced, everyone here remembers what it's like to be afraid as a kid. Have fun!" She stood to make her point, hands proudly on her hips as she grinned down at Mash. "Make mistakes! Live a little! Just learn from the times you fail."
There was a brief moment of silence.
It was then broken by Mash wailing again, while Da Vinci continued to pat her on the back, and surreptitiously wave away the extra-large frothy glass Musashi kept thrusting in her direction.
"But m'gritas-!" Musashi whispered, only to get a glare over Mash's head from the inventor.
Drake snorted, snatching the glass from Musashi as she moved through the water. "Oh give it a rest, da Vinci, it's been mankind's go-to social lubricant since the beginning of civilization! You think you're gonna sit here and reinvent the wheel?"
"When I do," da Vinci pronounced, sounding genuinely offended by the suggestion she couldn't, "it will be able to handle parking on a hill without losing its damn mind, I can tell you that much."
"Oh yeah? Somethin' to see if you do." The pirate captain sat on the other side of Mash, and tenderly passed the drink into the girl's hands, "Listen, you're not a pirate, a scallywag, or anything else like that. Doesn't suit you. But that doesn't mean there's no fun to be had in ya." A conspiratorial grin crossed her face when Mash's eyes met hers. "Tell ya what, when we're done here, gonna take you on a little expedition that I think you'll enjoy. You get to go crazy, have as much fun as you want, and I'll worry about being the responsible one. Sound good?"
"And what will that be? We've already picked the best homes in the city clean." Ching Shih asked.
"Chariot racing." Everyone turned to look at Jalter, still leaning against one of the walls. The Avenger had refused to get in the baths with the rest of them; her eyes flicked around the room, as if daring each of them to challenge her idea. Drake blinked at her, as though seeing her for the first time, then grinned.
Mash sniffled, wiping her nose on her arm. "I-I did read about those. In the Hippodrome, right? T-though I guess it'd be a circus, since it's Rome…"
"Sounds like fun." Drake wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders, smiling warmly. "Doubt your little passenger could complain about it, either."
"I… think I like horses?" Mash said timidly.
Ching Shih nodded. "It's decided then."
"... he would've loved you," Nobu was telling Ko quietly. "People always remember his jokes, but he wouldn't have been so funny if he didn't care enough to pay attention to everybody."
Before Spencer could ask who 'he' was, music - modern music - started playing from speakers that had apparently been placed at strategic locations. It was a bit of a surprise, and Spencer looked around in confusion until he noticed a small DJ booth, at which Nobukatsu, still wearing the bus conductor's outfit, was messing with the audio levels.
He moved over to the booth to get a look at the setup, mostly out of curiosity and in no way a desire to avoid the awkwardness of the Mash situation that he was too drunk to be of any assistance with. He didn't really know too much about the intricacies of this kind of thing; mostly what he'd done was setup and tear down for the pow wows. But he still thought this kind of thing was cool. And it was an excuse to hang out with Katsu.
"Hey man, what's all this for?" Spencer said without stumbling over any of the words, with perfect diction and linguistic grace.
Katsu looked at him like he was speaking Greek.
Spencer took a deep breath and then said more slowly, "Was this for?"
"You should sit down before you fall over," Katsu said, indicating the seat next to him in the booth. After sitting down, Katsu smirked and pointed at the exit to the men's changing rooms as the music got louder. "This... is for that."
What emerged from the changing room did actually give Spencer a heart attack. He died, right then and there, he was convinced.
It was one thing to have gotten Cu, the lancery one, in the skintight blue bodysuit, to do a pole dance. What emerged from that room to Curtis Waters' Stunnin' was the very same man, wearing the outfit that previously Spencer had only seen on Nero Bride. The front zipper opened all. The way. Down.
"Awbjgfragbuwhuh," he said eloquently.
"Yup," Katsu agreed, sipping directly from a bottle that had a rope handle tied to it, something that smelled alcoholic but was completely lacking in vibrant colors or crushed ice.
Their deep conversation was drowned out by the uproarious whoops and hollers of all the other women present.
Cu stabbed the Gae Bolg into the stone work, using it as an impromptu pole, which was incredibly impressive because he was pole dancing on a stick rather than a proper rotating pole. It was a magnificent display of control and dexterity and yep, he'd just died again.
Overlapping cries of "take it off! Take it off!" echoed through the baths, but Spencer couldn't actually distinguish who specifically was yelling. The cut of the outfit did allow Cu to shrug out of the top of it, a little, exposing his shoulders through the first 'dance.'
Spencer was transfixed as the first song came to an end, and realized the next song hadn't started playing. He reached past Katsu, who had also died, and fumbled blindly for the right button to get the next song playing.
"Hey man," Spencer said, "you did like… a real good job here… you're a cool guy Kazoo- Kazsu. Kazsu. If yer ev'r 'round Chaldea I'll buy you a drink 'r somethin'. Yer a hard worker, so… diligent… you should get to have fun too." Spencer patted Katsu's head. "The coolest."
Katsu made an indeterminate noise before jolting away from his hand, "Not in front of my m-big sis," he mumbled.
"Oh, sorry," Spencer said.
They both went back to staring at Cu, who was now entirely toppless, the multitude of zippers slowly exposing more skin.
"... I didn't think humans could bend that way," Katsu said.
"Yup," Spencer responded.
"Should you be lifting that?" Priya asked, eyeing up the plaster statue in his arms.
"Oh gib me a few hours and I'll be nice and sober prolly," Spencer responded. "And what's the worst that could happen? Huh? I drop the loot?" He made a shrugging motion and the head of the statue tumbled to the ground, cracking in half as it landed. "Oops."
"Are you sure you only brought three bags?" Ko was wheedling with da Vinci, still trying to get the paint off her hands from her impromptu renovation of the Pantheon.
"As I've said, I was picked up outside my room. I could only grab the ones in there, not from my workshop or the armory, and genius or no, I can't make more with such limited tools. We'll just have to make do."
"We could also burn the rest of the loot," Boudica suggested, with Jalter nodding behind her. "It is traditional. We could also salt the earth, next!"
"We'll head down to the harbor first," Nobu decided. "Break that chariot race tie with a boat race! Then maybe I can pull together some fireworks for us, if-"
Nobukatsu tugged on her sleeve, interrupting her.
"Eh? What is it?"
"Mo-" Nobu glared at Nobukatsu. "-big sister, your grail is running low."
"Mm, how low are we talking here?"
"Um, an hour or two…?"
"Have the fake Olympics ended yet?"
"I believe they're in the middle of their closing ceremonies."
"Then we've got plenty of time!" She put the young man in a loose headlock and ruffled his hair. "Traffic coming out of Pompeii's gonna be a bitch, don't worry so much, you'll turn into an old man."
"Oh," came a velvet-soft contralto voice from the corner, making everyone's heads whip around in surprise, "I believe he's worrying an entirely proportional amount, considering the existential threat that Furiko's intended has on a leash."
"Hi, shishou," Ko said, in the oddly self-conscious tone of voice Spencer had previously only ever heard her use in reference to unexpected appearances by Loki or Odin in a movie or tv show.
"Were you here this entire time?!" Nobu squawked, hand scrambling behind her for a musket.
"I am an Assassin," Scathach said mildly. She pointed her spear at the huddle of Chaldea staff members, making one among their number 'eep' quietly. "As is Mata Hari, whom you also completely failed to notice."
"I noticed!" Spencer said proudly, raising his hand.
Scathach patted him on the head. "Well done, lad."
"Yay! I did a good job!" Spencer dimly realized he was far too excited about being praised.
"The point stands," the spearwoman continued, eyeing Nobu up and down. "Inevitably, Adam Ziegler will come looking for his bride, and he will have Socrates with him when he does. I suggest you resolve whatever business you have with her before then."
"I for one would love to not be here when the physical incarnation of fuck-all-magic collapses the singularity around my ears," Spencer remarked.
"Fiiiiiiine," Nobu pouted. "Pack it up, Nobukatsu, party's over."
"... but I just got these robes...!" Mash whined.
Adam | Indy
"Well, that wasn't so bad," Adam sighed as everyone slid clear of the Rayshift pods. In the man's hand was a gaudy crown of gold-plated silver, festooned with more moonstones than the average Apollo mission.
"To match oneself against the greatest warrior of all time was thrilling," Socrates agreed, fingering the bronze medal around his neck. Behind him, Achilles, wearing more gold than Mr. T, preened.
Once Roman had confirmed that Ko was simply at a bachelorette party with Da Vinci (and a few others), Adam had been able to finally let go and enjoy Nerofest. Even if he hadn't won a medal, he'd beaten all of his old high school records; the crown had just been a bonus.
"Wasn't so bad my left buttock," Toby grumbled, his cane practically slamming into the ground with every step. "Did all of you completely forget about the almost constant assault on our eardrums? I'm going to have tinnitus at this rate."
"On this, we are in agreement," Ozymandias pouted - though the arrogant pharaoh would have denied even knowing of such an expression's existence. "Had we been in the civilized world, I would have ordered her executed the second time she dared try to sing."
"God, if only…"
"I think Nero-chan tried her very best," Ritsuka countered, maybe slightly defensively. "She probably wanted something relaxing and, ah, self-actualizing after what happened during Septem."
"It was a completely glorious experience!" Achilles flipped his green hair back, for what had to be about the thousandth time. "Who'd have thought the woman could organize such a festival!"
"Could've done without her specific musical accompaniment, but you're gonna tell me you didn't have fun once we knew Ko was safe?" Dory said, a bronze riflery medal proudly worn around his neck.
Smug bastard. A few centimeters to the left and that medal would have been his.
"Hah!" Mordred leaned out around his master to point at Toby, a small number of gold and silver medals clinking together from the motion. "They're just salty that Poindexter won the lottery for the crown."
"How dare you," the king of an antique land puffed up. "I have no interest in such a gaudy piece of jewelry!"
The Sun King had, in fact, held on to his ticket quite tightly during the drawing, Adam recalled. But he wasn't going to strip the man of his self-delusions; that was Toby's job. Such as it was.
"In any case," Adam pointed out, as the door into the corridors of Chaldea opened before them. "The point is-"
Ko's eyes met his, just before she was swung and dipped into a kiss by a stranger. Her hands flew up, gripping the other person's shoulders, clinging tightly to folds of red cloth.
Ritsuka stared.
Spencer, Dory and Toby stared.
Achilles, laden with more medals than any one human neck should be able to hold, stared.
Ozymandias, arms crossed over his chest, quirked an eyebrow.
But mostly, Adam stared.
"... WHAT KIND OF MONKEY'S PAW BULLSHITTERY IS THIS?!" Fionn blurted out from over the loudspeaker.
The short, Marie Kondo-looking woman - she wore a red cloak and a peaked hat, a katana at her side - broke off from her stolen kiss to face Adam. Staring the taller man down, her hand pointed first at her own narrowed eyes and then to his own, a vicious, possessive snarl etched on her face.
"Interloper," she hissed.
Adam's hand was already in a fist, the red markings on its back glowing.
"By my Command Seal-" he began, the blood roaring in his ears-
- but the woman was already gone.
"... well," Ko said eventually, wiping her lips and staring thoughtfully at the lipstick that came away on her hand, "that certainly happened-"
"-TOBY!" Spencer screamed from somewhere behind his fiancée. "MEME-OSAAAAAAAS~"
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It's Always Snowy in the [Updated] Roster
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Our Heroes Thus Far:
Fujimaru Ritsuka: Formerly Chaldea's Last Master.Magical Girl Mecha Anime Enthusiast. Senpai to...
Shielder | Mash Kyrielight: Designer baby and Demi-Servant. Cinnamon roll.
Saber | Chevalier d'Eon: Knight, soldier, spy, and questioner of sexualities.
Archer | William Tell: Hunter and marksman extraordinaire.
Archer | EMIYA: Counter Guardian and amateur chef.
Rider | Boudica: Maternal chef and sworn foe of Rome.
Rider | Achilles: Ancient Greece's greatestfuckboy tragic war hero.
Rider | Alexander: Just can't wait to be king.
Caster | Cu Chulainn: Ireland's Child of Light. Wishes he was a Lancer.
Caster | Medea: Witch of Betrayal, cosplay-and-model hobbyist. Magnus did nothing wrong!
Assassin | Mata Hari: Mistress of espionage, gorgeous beyond compare, looking for a good man.
Berserker | Heracles: Greece's Mightiest Hero, protector of smol children.
Berserker | Vlad III: That's Mister The Impaler to you. Don't mention That Novel. Local plushie purveyor.
Ruler | Jeanne d'Arc: Patron Saint of France, will drink you under the table.
Avenger | Jeanne d'Arc Alter: Dragon Witch of Orleans, clearly doesn't care (she does).
Adam/Indy: Newcomer to Nasu. Economics ABD. Long-suffering fiance.
Caster | Adam Smith/"Smith": Founder of economics. The very model of an addle-brained academic. First time summoned.
Ruler | Socrates: Professional gadfly, wrestling aficionado, and First Philosopher of the Western World.
Furiko: Token actual-history fan.Two- At Least One-Fisted Adventure Heroine. Of course her romantic luck would skyrocket after she gets engaged...
Lancer | Fionn mac Cumhaill: Ireland's prophesied saviour (running behind schedule), womanizer of mixed success, lost a duel against a human.
Assassin | Scathach: The Undefeated of the West, long-suffering educator of legendary adrenaline junkies, (probably) not actually Ko's mom.
Jacob/Dory: Some chucklehead that thinks he's a manager. Advice is free, drinks cost extra. Magic hands can't feel shit, captain.
Saber | Mordred: Knight of Betrayal. Warrior Prince of Camelot. Nearly Six, Dammit.
Rider | Francis Drake/"Fran": Pirate Queen. Global Circumnavigator. The Wild Hunt calls her 'mommy' too.
Spencer: Trying not to die, thank you. Accidentally founded the Bi Council. When in doubt, feed mimosas.
Rider | Ching Shih: The better pirate queen. Meat of her M/M/F. Tiger sister.
Caster | Ada Lovelace: There's already an IT department! Stop calling us! It's 3 am!
Bennett/Toby: Nasu nerd. Wishes he was still worried about the bar exam. Bum leg, shit depth perception, worse temper, burns water.
Foreigner | Abigail Williams/"Abby": The eldritch child absolutely shouldn't be this cute...
Rider | Ozymandias: Pharaoh Ramesses II, King of Kings, currently press-ganged into tower defense.
Saber(?) | Miyamoto Musashi: GrandSaber Bisexual. Looking for a good time. Do not feed after midnight.
Hinako Akuta/Yu Mei-Ren: True Elemental. Not Here to Make Friends. Hopelessly in Love with...
Rider | Xiang Yu: Magical doting husbando, terrifying warlord, the dad bod that dreams are made of.
Rider | Oryou and Sakamoto Ryouma: Technically not a dragon and her human. Just happy to be included. Who is babysitting whom?
Miscellaneous
Dr. Romani Archaman: Otaku, de facto leader of the world, former Grand Caster.
Caster | Leonardo da Vinci: Practically perfect in every way, prima donna, barista extraordinaire.
Saber | Beni-Enma: Tongue-Cute Sparrow (No pet birb). Tormentor of Hell. Kitchen God.
Shielder | Galahad: Sir Throwing A Bitch Fit Inside Mash's Soul and not directly appearing in this fic (maybe, don't worry about it)… perfect knight, yeah right.
Archer | Oda Nobunaga: Warring States Warlord, Bachelorette Party Organizer, Interloper.
Rider? | Oda Nobukatsu:Son Little Bro to a Madwoman. Drinks to Cope. Competence born of necessity.
Lancer | Elizabeth Bathory: Hostess & Herald of Halloween (until she isn't)
Saber | Nero: Emperor of Rome. Olympic Organizer.Toby's Bane Umu!
Fujimaru Ritsuka: Formerly Chaldea's Last Master.
Shielder | Mash Kyrielight: Designer baby and Demi-Servant. Cinnamon roll.
Saber | Chevalier d'Eon: Knight, soldier, spy, and questioner of sexualities.
Archer | William Tell: Hunter and marksman extraordinaire.
Archer | EMIYA: Counter Guardian and amateur chef.
Rider | Boudica: Maternal chef and sworn foe of Rome.
Rider | Achilles: Ancient Greece's greatest
Rider | Alexander: Just can't wait to be king.
Caster | Cu Chulainn: Ireland's Child of Light. Wishes he was a Lancer.
Caster | Medea: Witch of Betrayal, cosplay-and-model hobbyist. Magnus did nothing wrong!
Assassin | Mata Hari: Mistress of espionage, gorgeous beyond compare, looking for a good man.
Berserker | Heracles: Greece's Mightiest Hero, protector of smol children.
Berserker | Vlad III: That's Mister The Impaler to you. Don't mention That Novel. Local plushie purveyor.
Ruler | Jeanne d'Arc: Patron Saint of France, will drink you under the table.
Avenger | Jeanne d'Arc Alter: Dragon Witch of Orleans, clearly doesn't care (she does).
Adam/Indy: Newcomer to Nasu. Economics ABD. Long-suffering fiance.
Caster | Adam Smith/"Smith": Founder of economics. The very model of an addle-brained academic. First time summoned.
Ruler | Socrates: Professional gadfly, wrestling aficionado, and First Philosopher of the Western World.
Furiko: Token actual-history fan.
Lancer | Fionn mac Cumhaill: Ireland's prophesied saviour (running behind schedule), womanizer of mixed success, lost a duel against a human.
Assassin | Scathach: The Undefeated of the West, long-suffering educator of legendary adrenaline junkies, (probably) not actually Ko's mom.
Jacob/Dory: Some chucklehead that thinks he's a manager. Advice is free, drinks cost extra. Magic hands can't feel shit, captain.
Saber | Mordred: Knight of Betrayal. Warrior Prince of Camelot. Nearly Six, Dammit.
Rider | Francis Drake/"Fran": Pirate Queen. Global Circumnavigator. The Wild Hunt calls her 'mommy' too.
Spencer: Trying not to die, thank you. Accidentally founded the Bi Council. When in doubt, feed mimosas.
Rider | Ching Shih: The better pirate queen. Meat of her M/M/F. Tiger sister.
Caster | Ada Lovelace: There's already an IT department! Stop calling us! It's 3 am!
Bennett/Toby: Nasu nerd. Wishes he was still worried about the bar exam. Bum leg, shit depth perception, worse temper, burns water.
Foreigner | Abigail Williams/"Abby": The eldritch child absolutely shouldn't be this cute...
Rider | Ozymandias: Pharaoh Ramesses II, King of Kings, currently press-ganged into tower defense.
Saber(?) | Miyamoto Musashi: Grand
Hinako Akuta/Yu Mei-Ren: True Elemental. Not Here to Make Friends. Hopelessly in Love with...
Rider | Xiang Yu: Magical doting husbando, terrifying warlord, the dad bod that dreams are made of.
Rider | Oryou and Sakamoto Ryouma: Technically not a dragon and her human. Just happy to be included. Who is babysitting whom?
Miscellaneous
Dr. Romani Archaman: Otaku, de facto leader of the world, former Grand Caster.
Caster | Leonardo da Vinci: Practically perfect in every way, prima donna, barista extraordinaire.
Saber | Beni-Enma: Tongue-Cute Sparrow (No pet birb). Tormentor of Hell. Kitchen God.
Shielder | Galahad: Sir Throwing A Bitch Fit Inside Mash's Soul and not directly appearing in this fic (maybe, don't worry about it)… perfect knight, yeah right.
Archer | Oda Nobunaga: Warring States Warlord, Bachelorette Party Organizer, Interloper.
Rider? | Oda Nobukatsu:
Lancer | Elizabeth Bathory: Hostess & Herald of Halloween (until she isn't)
Saber | Nero: Emperor of Rome. Olympic Organizer.
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Snow Flurries | Chapter XIV
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Snow Flurries | Chapter XIV
Bennett | Toby
Bennett was pretty sure the twitching of his eyelid was visible from ten paces.
"Spence?" he asked, going for concern in his tone, but winding up somewhere closer to incredulity, disgust, and a bit of awe. "You… why. Just, just why."
"Hair of the dog?" Spence said, misery dripping from his voice. "Hair of the dog. Hair. Of the dog."
Bennett couldn't help but sigh, putting a hand over his mouth in concern. Or maybe disgust. Or both.
"No listen, there's science here," Spencer insisted, clutching the stemmed glass in both hands as though he expected Bennett to snatch it away. "I don't remember it, but it's real, I saw it on the Discovery channel. I'm just buying time... for the fourteen lukewarm grape gatorades to kick in."
"Spence. Buddy." Bennett tapped his fork on the plate, and the high-pitched sound made the other man wince. "Is this the same Discovery Channel that also runs the History Channel, as in the same overarching network that runs Ancient fucking Aliens?"
"I mean… it didn't back in the day. Was it Mythbusters?"
"Yes, Mythbusters tested this." Bennett pointed over at the cafeteria. "If you wanted the actual hangover cure, you'd have gotten yourself a bacon sandwich. With extra bacon."
"See," Spencer said, just a little indignantly, "drunk me didn't remember that. Drunk me bought a bunch of gatorade from Adam Smith, and then instead of drinking it, left it on the nightstand. Do bacon sandwiches go with this?" he asked, pointing to the promised and delivered mimosa in his hand.
Once again, Bennett couldn't help but sigh. "What was past me thinking…" He blinked. "Oh right. He was drunk. So glad Abby went to go bug Meuniere," he murmured. She would have given him those disappointed puppy-dog eyes, and he would feel horrifically guilty.
"A vicious cycle," Spencer said somberly.
"Regardless." Bennett hooked a hand under Spence's arm, and made to push his friend upright. "Bacon sammich. Now. Go."
"You want one?" Spence asked. "I can grab you one."
"Eh… sure, what the hell," he shrugged. "Keeping kosher's overrated anyway. Now stop stalling. Go."
Spence finally seemed to listen to him, and with a little bit of extra prodding, got up and… well, staggered to the cafeteria. And Emiya's tender mercies, most likely. That brief reprieve let Bennett finally see if anybody else of interest was in the cafeteria.
The two of them sat as close to the door as possible, Spence because the hangover made him unsteady on his feet, Bennett because he wanted off his bum leg as soon as possible. The Boisbleu twins sat at the same table about a quarter around the cafeteria's ring, arguing with each other over some arcane matter, an argument that Noisette was apparently winning. Something, something, not inheriting the family crest means you need to think outside the box, Bennett supposed?
A little bit past them, Bennett saw Indy and Ko, along with the second most annoying of the four possible third wheels the two could have had accompanying them. Fionn managed to stand out like a sore thumb, all big movements and waving arms and just… big-ness. Okay, sure, Fionn wasn't that tall, but he managed to fill a room in such a way that Bennett wasn't surprised that some legends called the man a giant. Maybe it was Charisma?
Nah, Bennett told himself. Couldn't be.
"—At least he's a good man!" The Lancer was insisting. "Nobunaga is a thug!"
Ko laughed incredulously. "Fionn, you kill people for money."
"And she kills at will!" Indy pointed out, glancing in surprised gratitude at Fionn.
"And yet, no one she doesn't have a grudge against has to worry about her murdering them out of 'professionalism.'" Ko shrugged. "I'd say she and Fionn are about equal in terms of moral questionability, honestly."
"But—"
Yeah, no, on second thought he was not going to linger on that one. That way lay madness. Instead, he decided to turn and check on something more sanity-inducing.
Like how Abby was getting on with Meuniere. The guy was a more relaxed sort, from what Bennett could remember, and probably had fun anecdotes from the times where Chaldea wasn't all on fire and the world disintegrating around their ears. Abby could definitely use some accounts of what the modern world was like when it was more normal.
His eyes landed on Abby and Meuniere, to see… Meuniere leaning as far away from Abby as he could, an expression on his face like he'd rather be literally anywhere else. Abby, for her part, could clearly tell something was up with him, and if the body language and snippets of slightly raised voices he could catch were anything to go by, they were caught in a loop of trying to excuse themselves while apologizing to the other.
That, uh. That was worrisome. And very much out of character for Meuniere, from what Bennett knew of the man. Granted, it was secondhand, and may not necessarily apply yet due to being a bit removed from Meuniere's time in the spotlight, but it still threw him for a bit of a loop.
"Your tribute, captain," Spencer said, setting a bacon sandwich on a plate in front of Bennett before sitting down across from him, three additional sandwiches piled on top of each other. "I may have ordered too many of these…"
"No," Bennett said, picking up his own sandwich. "Trust me, you didn't."
"Oh!" Spence said, brightening up, and looking at some spot over his shoulder. "And even if we did, we can just give one to Abby. Hi Abby!" Spence finished with a wave.
"Good morrow, Goodman Spencer," Abby said, offering Spence a polite curtsy before she flounced down next to Bennett. "Goodman, have I done aught wrong to Sir Meuniere?"
Bennett couldn't help the double take. "Uh… no?" he answered, unsure of his own words. "Uh, what brought this on?"
"He seemed uneasy," she said, eyes flicking between Bennett's face and the pile of bacon sandwiches on Spence's plate. "And appeared less so once I departed his presence. 'Twas as… a-as in…" Abby trailed off. Bennett couldn't help but fill in the gap for himself; there was really only one word that fit in the rest of her sentence.
Bennett reached one hand across the table, grabbed one of Spence's bacon sandwiches (a move which received no protest), and handed it to Abby.
"I've got a feeling about what might be going on," he admitted, even as Abby looked between him and the sandwich. "But let's get some breakfast in us first, hm? After all," he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Someone's gotta keep this drunk lug out of trouble."
"Hey!" Spence exclaimed. "That's – that's fair," he said, trailing off into another bite of bacon sandwich.
"Uh-huh," Bennett said, giving him the side-eye. "Just eat your dam—darn sandwich." Phew, he'd caught himself at the last minute, he thought.
The sharp elbow to his side, courtesy of Abby, told him it hadn't been quite fast enough.
"Alright, look straight at the light," Dr. Roman said from behind the ophthalmoscope. "Okay, looking normal, one sec…" The doctor flipped a couple of switches and turned a dial, making the light narrow into a slit. He scanned it over Bennett's eye a couple of times, looking for something in there, and a moment later pulled the slit lamp away. "Okay, you can blink now. Abigail, can you get the lights for us?"
"Aye, good physick." Abby reached up to tap a button on the wall, and the infirmary lights turned back on. Bennett himself leaned back ever so slightly, as much as he could safely do on a stool with no back, and rubbed at his eye ever so slightly.
"How's it looking in there?" he asked.
"The surgical wounds have all healed up pretty well, and your stitches look to have finished dissolving already," Dr. Roman said, even as he tapped away on a small tablet with what looked to be Bennett's chart pulled up on it. "And there've been no noticeable decreases in visual acuity, correct? Your lens prescription is still good on that eye?"
"Near as I can tell," Bennett answered. "And trust me, if the prescription was off, I'd have already gotten a bottle of ibuprofen from Adam Smith to handle the eyestrain."
"Good, good." A few more taps on the tablet, and Dr. Roman closed the app he'd been working on before tapping a new icon. "Well, that's settled. Onto the next order of business, which I figure I'll tell you first since you're already here, and then you can tell the rest of the Masters. Saves me some time, hm?"
"I mean." Bennett spun back and forth on the stool a little bit. "You're in charge, may as well delegate what you can."
"Oh thank goodness someone agrees," Roman said, sagging bonelessly into his chair. "I swear I can't delegate when da Vinci's around. She always tries to do everything by herself."
"I mean, she can do more than we mere humans?" Bennett hedged. "You know, Servant and all?"
"It's not even that," Roman said, head lolling back. "We do still have support staff. And I've gotten off track!" Roman leaned back forward in his chair, clapping his hands together before picking up the tablet and turning back to face Bennett. "We've managed to clear out the debris on the floor of Chaldea allotted for magus workshops. We've got open rooms, so I've set some aside for all of the Masters, but it's up to all of you to pick out who gets which. Wait, that's not right," he said, taking the tablet screen back. "Ah, all the Masters save Hinako. She already has one." And once again, the tablet turned back towards Bennett.
"Thanks doc," Bennett said, taking the tablet. "Definitely good news."
He looked at the map of Chaldea, and picked out the location of the empty workshops: two on either side of the elevator (because nobody wanted to be next to the elevator shaft, most likely), and the remaining four on the far side of the ring. Well, Bennett thought to himself, he'd be exercising Bad Leg Privileges to claim one of the ones right by the elevator, but as for the others – wait, hold up.
What was that last bit?
"Hey doc," he said, scrolling through the map on the tablet. "You said Hinako already had a workshop, right?"
"I did," Roman confirmed. "So did all of the other Masters, and several of the support staff in Chaldea. Oh, except for Ritsuka," he amended. "He hadn't been here long enough to get a workshop assigned."
"And everyone came with the intent of summoning a Servant, correct?" Bennett asked.
"Well, not every candidate I guess." Roman rubbed his chin with a gloved hand, pondering. "Some of them were like Ritsuka…"
"But most of them did," Bennett pushed, to which Roman nodded. "Okay, so: if most of the Masters were recruited with the intent of having them summon a Servant, and most of those Masters came from magus families with the means to procure one…" Bennett pointed a finger at the map of Chaldea's workshop floor. "How many, do you think, brought rare and expensive catalysts to summon a powerful Servant?"
There was a brief silence between the two. Roman put a hand on his chin, apparently deep in thought.
"Goodman?" Abby asked, walking past Roman to look over Bennett's shoulder; he noted that as Abby passed, the good doctor's shoulders tensed, and a small shudder ran through him. "Would this not be theft?"
"The Director of Chaldea has special authority to confiscate the contents of a member magus' workshop in times of emergency," Roman said, eyes still fixed on the tablet in Bennett's hands. "But while that authority exists, it can't circumvent any protections a magus put on their workshop. I wager that some of them are unprotected after the explosion, but enough workshops will have at least a Bounded Field still active that just trying to go in and take what you want is a dangerous proposition."
"But just to clarify," Bennett added, the wheels turning in his head as he thought this through. "If a way through those protections were to become available, then we have the right to take what we need?"
Dr. Roman sighed, handing the tablet back to Bennett. "Yes, I suppose so," he said, his voice weary. "Bennett. How, exactly, are you planning to do this?"
"Well…" Bennett stood up from the stool, using his cane to help get him upright. "I'm still working on that part, to be honest."
It wouldn't do to mention that he planned to get the immortal elemental's help. Not when nobody else knew anywhere near as much as he did about what she was. (And so nobody could rib him about just how futile his attempts would probably be…)
"Just don't get yourself killed," Roman said, waving him off. "Or blow up Chaldea again."
"I won't," Bennett said. "I promise. Alright Abby, let's go tell the others."
"Mhmm!" Abby hopped to her feet, and the two of them walked past Dr. Roman to exit the infirmary (during which Bennett, again, noticed Roman nearly suppress a shudder at Abby's passing).
"Goodman," she began once they'd exited the infirmary, "what are these workshops?"
"Well," he said as the two headed towards the simulators, where they would hopefully intercept Ko before Scathach got her started on the next bit of boot camp from the Land of Shadows. "It's sort of like a magic laboratory. It's a space for a magus to study, do research, and conduct experiments in private."
"So it is a closet of private reflection?" Abby asked, to which Bennett nodded. "What sort of studies might I do in one?"
"Well, there's—"
And then Abby's question properly filtered in through his brain meats, sending his train of thought careening into the broadside of a barn.
"Uh…"
Bennett looked to Abigail. She was… how old was she again? Twelve? So that would make her a sixth or seventh grader, Bennett thought to himself. And that, using his own experience, translated to…
"Goodman?"
Well shit, Bennett thought. She could read, she could write, but even with the Grail, she probably had no clue how the world worked. This kid probably needed to be in school. Or at least getting private tutoring, since all schools in the world were currently smoke and ash. The problem with getting tutoring from someone in Chaldea, though, was that Bennett was beginning to see a particular pattern emerge: regular humans (Ritsuka excepted?) could not stand being around Abigail.
Meuniere, one of the most level-headed people in Chaldea, was actively trying to get away from her. And as a second and third data point? After eating her breakfast (courtesy of the Spence's eyes being bigger than the Spence's stomach), Abby went to try and chat with the Boisbleu twins, who… both found an excuse to get out of the cafeteria as soon as possible.
And lastly, if the shudder from Dr. Roman was anything to go by, then even Solomon himself wasn't immune to that effect.
Existence Outside the Domain, it seemed, also included outside the vicinity of (most) any non-Foreigner human.
Which meant that as far as finding this kid a comparable equivalent to school went...
"I admit, my facility with languages is not the best among my peers," Smith's jowls jiggled as he bobbed his head up and down. "My Greek is exceedingly shaky, but Throne or no, I am still fluent in the essentials - French, a little German... Latin, of course, though if she is an Anabaptist then she may refuse the language altogether."
Wow, Bennett thought to himself. Talk about false humility – actually, wait. That may have genuinely been pitiful for the times, now that he thought about it. Regardless, that wasn't the important part.
Okay, it was, but not all of the important part.
"Well, let's see." Toby brought up his hands, and began to count off his fingers. "She should really be learning mathematics, one or another foreign language, English grammar, literature, world history, earth and life sciences, and all of that to a reasonable level for her age." He looked at his fingers. "Let's see, what am I missing…"
"I never could understand Newton's workings on mathematics," Smith confessed. "But contrary to what M'colleague believes, a proper secondary education shouldn't require such a thing. As for the rest… up to a point, certainly. I fear that my teachings of the Good Book would not go over well, but Chaucer, Milton, Dante… some lighter fare as well - Shakespeare…."
The Caster held up his hands. "Certainly, the scope of my knowledge largely ended with my demise, but I have Created modern day texts before." He shook his head, shuddering slightly. "Even if Monsieur Debreu remains profoundly arcane." Adam Smith sighed, flicking his fingers irritably towards the slim white volume he had been reading. "Regardless, my chief contribution to the girl's education will not be expertise, but pedagogy."
"So, the foundations," Bennett said, thinking to himself.
The Bible wasn't exactly high on either of their lists; in fact, Abby could probably teach them more about the book than either could to her, if either man cared to spend the time on it (which he didn't). Bennett was no fan of Chaucer or Milton, and Dante was probably not the literature to share with a girl of Abby's upbringing… plus, there was the modern world to consider.
"Uh, on second thought, scratch literature," he said. "I'll handle that myself, I don't trust most curriculums to pick good books for a kid her age anyway."
At that, Smith gave Bennett a disappointed look, shaking his head slightly. The man's expression gave Bennett the impression that he'd heard this kind of thing a thousand times before, and the person saying it had been wrong all one thousand times. "Respectfully, young Master, you have neither the time nor, frankly, the disposition to teach. It is a noble idea, but each hour spent in such a task is an hour you are not preparing for the next Singularity."
"You are… absolutely correct," Bennett admitted. "But still, literature courses need to change to reflect the times in which they're taught, so in this matter, since I know the modern literature, I set the book list. Clear?"
Smith had a strange look on his face. "Homosexuality is no longer considered a sin in this era, as I recall?" he asked, the word sounding new on his tongue, as though he'd only ever come across it in print before.
"Considering homosexuality to be a sin is itself more sinful now than homosexuality ever was," Bennett fired back. "At least to people who—"
"Yet," the Caster continued, "young Abigail comes from an era and culture in which it very much was. To bring her up to this modern age is well and fine. But the Anabaptists always were a restrictive and puritanical sort."
"And Abigail is more than a bit of a rebel," Bennett retorted. "Trust me when I say that at the first opportunity to shed some of what her upbringing instilled, she will. I just want to make sure she's learning the right stuff to replace it."
"Which she will, through the sympathy of those she is surrounded by," Smith nodded. "Yet the systematic worldview in which she was raised will remain - the scaffolding will survive the loss of the structure. You will need to lay foundations ere your desired windows shatter in the breeze."
"So what you're saying is… shit," Bennett said, mumbling the curse under his breath.
Okay, why did he think arguing education with a teacher was a good idea again?
"Alright. I'll cede the point on this one. But!" He raised one finger before Adam Smith could get a word in. "There are a few books I want on that literature curriculum. Just because they're genuinely good books, and you can't expect a kid to only read proper literature and not get bored of it at some point. Reading is a great pastime, and I've seen lit curriculums ruin it for too many people."
"And so they will not be on that curriculum for that very reason," Smith's smile turned sly. "But fear not; we academics have our ways."
Bennett frowned, tapping his cane on the floor as he thought of a good repartee.
"You get two months," Bennett said. "Then I want a… fuck," he said out loud. "Was I seriously about to just ask for a parent-teacher conference?" Who the hell did he think he was, Abby's dad? She wasn't his kid! She was…
Um. Actually, this was a good question, and… one he didn't want to think about right now.
"I had no idea that such a term existed!" The Caster brightened up. "Fear not - the role of a… young Master is no less important than the role of a tutor. It will only be natural for us to converse."
"Okay, good," Bennett said, rubbing at his brow to try and forestall the headache he knew would be coming on sooner rather than later. "So, in that case… start her up on lessons in a week or so? Is that enough time for you to prep a syllabus?"
Smith reached into his pocket and drew out a sheet of paper. "I confess I had some idle time before meeting with The Philosopher," he said sheepishly. "Some modifications will need to be made, but I do not believe the quadrivium has changed overmuch."
Right. Servants. Of course he should have expected this.
"Okay," he said. "Sounds good. Uh… start tomorrow then. Good talking to you." With that, Bennett turned and walked away, leaving the Caster to his ministrations over his syllabus full of—
Hold up.
The heck was a quadrivium?
Bennett sat before his workstation, a beaker of water set upon its surface, a braided copper wire in one hand, and an instant-read thermometer in the other. He'd tried to get this damn thing working so many times already, and each time he'd tried… failure. Failure of a few different sorts, but all his past attempts had invariably failed. But maybe this time would be different, he thought to himself.
His mind's eye flashed back to that great, endless blue, its hate burning into the cosmos. He imagined it scorching his skin, burning it black, reducing him to naught but ashes—
His Magic Circuits opened, the familiar heat pulsing down his spine, and he set his focus on the beaker in front of him.
It should have been an endlessly simple thing to do, he thought to himself as he channeled the refined magic energy through his Circuits. He wanted two results: freeze the water, light a fire. It should have been easy. It wasn't complicated, it was just—
The thermometer spiked upwards five degrees celsius, even as he felt the braided copper wire in his hand become painfully hot.
"Shit!" Bennett hissed, letting go of both the copper and the thermometer. They clattered against the bottom of the beaker as he pushed away from the table, the rolling chair he'd been sat in spinning around from the force. His thumb worried at his palm, and he grumbled under his breath, still confused as to what was causing him issues.
It should have been easy. Just freeze the water and light the fire, using the same spell. So why wasn't it working? Why was it that the only thing he'd managed to do so far was either heat both, or cool both? What was going wrong?
Why was he fucking up on this?
"Hey, you okay?" a voice broke in. Bennett looked up to see Dory walking over his way, one of da Vinci's practice-level curseable puppets under an arm.
"Just fine," Bennett grumbled. "Just having trouble getting this stupid thing to work."
And oh, did that rankle. Everything else had been going pretty simply for him so far, to boot. Hell, despite his new handicap and his… well, deficit in Magic Circuits compared to the others, he'd been doing exceedingly well. Opening and closing his Magic Circuits? He'd gotten it down within the first three tries. Structural Analysis? He one-shot that. Reinforcement? While he couldn't match Ko's efficiency, he did figure it out first. Alteration? Utter simplicity.
But this? The very next step he needed to take?
Nope. He may as well have been pounding his head against a brick wall for all the good it had done him. And he'd been stuck at this point for literally weeks now. And as for the others?
Well… the poppets under Dory's arm were proof enough of his falling behind again. And oh, did that rankle.
"Well, I can't get a curse to work worth a fuck," Dory said, rattling the little voodoo doll, "So you help me and I'll help you?"
"Sure," Bennett said with a sigh, starting to grab his cane before Dory waved it off.
"I can work over here," he set the doll down on the table. "And I mean, yours is probably less…" he made a gesture with his hands, "woooo."
"If you insist." Bennett wheeled himself back over to his table and beckoned Dory, who joined him. "I'm trying to get this water," he pointed at the beaker, "to freeze, and direct the heat out of the water through this copper wire, and turn that heat into fire. But I just can't get it to work right."
"So the temperature adjustment," his friend muttered with a nod, "just with your element directly involved." Dory looked up from the setup. "Okay, what's your thought process? The internals?"
"Well, the copper rod is to conduct heat away from the water, and back out into the air for me to grab. But the problem I'm having is that either I just…"
Bennett waved a hand in the air, just to give himself something to do. Normally when he talked things over with people, he liked to pace. The problem was that pacing… well, hurt to do, now. But he wanted to physically do something with his body as he spoke, so just… moving his arms was about all he had left.
"Either everything gets cold, or everything gets hot, and I've been completely unable to separate out those effects from each other."
That got a nod as his friend pulled up a chair to sit. "And what's your visualization? I know what I did to change the temperatures, but what's your thought process or visualization for your spell?"
"Well, right now it's using the copper rod as a bridge," Bennett explained, picking it up out of the water and waving it. "I mean, I guess it's doing double duty as a medium to channel the spell and as a bridge—you don't think that's causing it, do you?" he asked.
"Maybe? The way I'd go about it would be grabbing the energy in the water and moving it out through the copper wire, and try to get faster doing that." A puzzled look crossed his face. "You're starting with the wire?"
"I am," Bennett confirmed. "The wire's the channel I use to get the spell going, and also the medium for heat transfer. But instead, it's just… dumping energy into the system, or pulling all the energy into just the wire-"
"I grow tired of watching you think yourself in a circle, Master."
Bennett scowled, and only turned his chair enough to spare a single glance at his Servant, as the Egyptian shimmered into existence in a sunbeam. He'd been able to avoid having to deal with the Pharaoh for most of the last few weeks, mostly by just… ignoring him. Unfortunately, it looked like that wasn't going to be possible, what with Bennett's having company.
"Well then if you're getting tired of it," he bit back, "then please, oh great, magnanimous Pharaoh." Bennett waved a hand. "Go ahead. Enlighten me."
"Hm." The Pharaoh extended one hand, holding it palm up. "Consider now, the sun." Within Ozymandias' outstretched palm, an orb of brilliant flame burst to life, making both Bennett and Dory wince and blink at the sudden brightness. "From its light, we gain life. Through its heat, we are comfortable. It is perfect, pure, radiant."
"Yes," Bennett started testily. "It's the sun. We know this."
"Then tell me," Ozymandias said, his other hand reaching down to the table and picking the braided copper wire out of Bennett's beaker. "If I wish to grow my crops, or heat my waters, why would I be using this?"
"Well since you weren't listening, I was trying to use it to channel—"
"No!" The Pharaoh yelled. "Foolish, foolish, foolish! Perhaps such would have worked with a proper Mystic Code, but all you do is interfere with the working!" Ozymandias placed the copper wire between the miniature sun in his hand and the two Masters, the braided metal cord and his hand partially shielding them from its glare. "This is all you are doing. Shading the light of your sun, not lensing it."
Ozymandias closed his hand, his solar sphere winking out of existence, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He gestured down at the table, which now held naught but the beaker of water, sitting alone.
"Try again," he commanded. "Without the impediment." His tone brooked no argument, offered no room for clever interpretation.
Bennett looked down to his Command Spells, just for a moment. But then he dismissed the thought. For as much as he found the Pharaoh's presence grating, and for as disturbed as he was at the man's presence? The fact of the matter remained that he was an incredibly accomplished magus. If he had bothered to offer a suggestion…
That image filled his mind again, of his bones blackening, crumbling to ash in the fires of an uncaring blue sun. The familiar heat of his Magic Circuits thrummed along his spine, and with a renewed focus, he dipped one finger into the water.
Bennett envisioned what he wanted to happen – the energy draining from the water, slowing the movement of the molecules until it all began to stop; that energy flowing up, out, and into his grasp. The image set, Bennett focused his magical energy, and pulled.
Around where his finger dipped into the water, it grew cloudy, and began to creak. The water cooled, crystallized, and formed shards of ice, spreading along the surface of the water, and then curling down in fingers of frost.
The claws of ice spread lower into the beaker, until they hit the bottom of the glass vessel and crept along its sides. A little bit after, the rest of the beaker clouded over, the ice cracking as the freezing water expanded, pushing the surface out of the way, shoving his finger up with it.
And minutes later, when Bennett lifted his hand away from the beaker, a small marble of flame came with it, hovering just over the palm of his hand. It was the heat that he'd ripped from the water, and it glowed a dull, wavering orange in his palm. The fireball—because small as it might have been, that was what it was—flickered as he held it between his hands, protecting the flame from a harsh enough breeze to snuff it out.
"Nice!" Bennett turned to look at Dory, pausing halfway through to make sure he didn't lose the small ember flickering in his hands, and saw a great ear-splitting grin across the man's face as he stared at the fireball.
"Good," the Pharaoh said, his own hand coming down and plucking the flame from Bennett, whereupon it streamed back into the beaker and melted the water anew. "Again, until it takes but a snap of your fingers. And you!"
Ozymandias turned, and favored Dory with a smile.
"The Pharaoh have long been masters of curses! And I can scarce endure my Master's meandering attempts, let alone yours!" A heavy hand came down on Dory's shoulder as the Pharaoh turned him away. "We shall see if you are prepared. And if you are not, then it is best you begin to truly learn, boy!"
"I appreciate it. I'm actually a bit unsure where I'm messing up." Dory let himself be guided back to his table, where his da Vinci-provided practice tools laid. "Most of this stuff has come pretty easy. Grab the aether, give it an aspect or feel, and put it somewhere. But it's not… taking? Like, I think I've done a sort of anti-Reinforcement." He held up the doll, which did seem a bit worn at the edges, now that Bennett looked at it. "But it doesn't feel right to be a curse."
"That is because it is not," Ozymandias said, giving the poppet a disdainful tap. "This is merely a more esoteric form of Reinforcement. Advanced, for you, but still incorrect!" The Pharaoh tossed that doll aside, and retrieved another, unblemished and unmarred by any prior experimentation. "Now, look upon my works! Observe, and learn!"
Well… that was enough of a cue for Bennett to go back to his own stuff. Whatever crash course Dory was about to endure at the Pharaoh's behest, it was none of Bennett's concern, he thought as he turned back to his beaker. He had to practice. He had to get better at this, faster with it, stronger.
It wouldn't be enough to pull Bennett away from benchwarmer status, no. He was still too slow, underpowered. He simply had too little to offer in the field. But it was still something.
At the very least, it was a start.
Two days later, Bennett had graduated from his beakers. He now had a three gallon jug of water, one which was stubbornly refusing to let him freeze it all the way in one go. Oh sure, he could certainly rip the heat out of the liquid a bit at a time, but that left him with the problem of what to do with that energy. Heat was a funny thing; it wanted to spread out to fill a space, wanted to just leave, and do as it would.
And he hadn't managed to pull off the multitasking needed to maintain more than one fireball at a time. He'd tried, oh how he had tried.
It had led to teaching Abby how to work a fire extinguisher. Or, rather, correction: it had led to trying to teach Abby how to work a fire extinguisher, failing to explain it in time, and her using her surprisingly scary levels of strength to rip the damn fire extinguisher in half, and put out the fire in the least ceremonious way possible.
The ridiculous belly laughter from Ozymandias as he fireproofed Bennett's work area was practically an earworm by now… no, it was best not to think about it.
"You."
No matter what anybody said, Bennett did not shriek like a little girl, bang his bad knee on a mostly-full jug of water, and topple to the floor, all in one ridiculous, painful, and ridiculously painful sequence of events. It did not happen, and the only other person who could say otherwise was too antisocial to say so.
Speaking of disdainful persons, Bennett looked up at the person who'd managed to sneak inside his and the other Masters' training room without so much as a sound, and only didn't have to hide a wince because he'd already been wincing.
Akuta Hinako stood behind him, one arm cupping the elbow of the other, which held a book whose place was only kept by her thumb between the pages. She had an unreadable expression on her face, one that Bennett supposed could have been anything between amusement and seething hatred, and he would never be able to tell the difference.
Hinako quirked an eyebrow before she reached down with her free hand, pulling Bennett up off the floor with surprising force.
"You are coming with me," she said, to Bennett's utter bafflement. Then, without so much as a word of explanation, and with her book still in the other hand, she shoved his cane into his grip, took position beside him, and pushed Bennett out of the room and down the hall.
Bennett | Toby
Bennett was pretty sure the twitching of his eyelid was visible from ten paces.
"Spence?" he asked, going for concern in his tone, but winding up somewhere closer to incredulity, disgust, and a bit of awe. "You… why. Just, just why."
"Hair of the dog?" Spence said, misery dripping from his voice. "Hair of the dog. Hair. Of the dog."
Bennett couldn't help but sigh, putting a hand over his mouth in concern. Or maybe disgust. Or both.
"No listen, there's science here," Spencer insisted, clutching the stemmed glass in both hands as though he expected Bennett to snatch it away. "I don't remember it, but it's real, I saw it on the Discovery channel. I'm just buying time... for the fourteen lukewarm grape gatorades to kick in."
"Spence. Buddy." Bennett tapped his fork on the plate, and the high-pitched sound made the other man wince. "Is this the same Discovery Channel that also runs the History Channel, as in the same overarching network that runs Ancient fucking Aliens?"
"I mean… it didn't back in the day. Was it Mythbusters?"
"Yes, Mythbusters tested this." Bennett pointed over at the cafeteria. "If you wanted the actual hangover cure, you'd have gotten yourself a bacon sandwich. With extra bacon."
"See," Spencer said, just a little indignantly, "drunk me didn't remember that. Drunk me bought a bunch of gatorade from Adam Smith, and then instead of drinking it, left it on the nightstand. Do bacon sandwiches go with this?" he asked, pointing to the promised and delivered mimosa in his hand.
Once again, Bennett couldn't help but sigh. "What was past me thinking…" He blinked. "Oh right. He was drunk. So glad Abby went to go bug Meuniere," he murmured. She would have given him those disappointed puppy-dog eyes, and he would feel horrifically guilty.
"A vicious cycle," Spencer said somberly.
"Regardless." Bennett hooked a hand under Spence's arm, and made to push his friend upright. "Bacon sammich. Now. Go."
"You want one?" Spence asked. "I can grab you one."
"Eh… sure, what the hell," he shrugged. "Keeping kosher's overrated anyway. Now stop stalling. Go."
Spence finally seemed to listen to him, and with a little bit of extra prodding, got up and… well, staggered to the cafeteria. And Emiya's tender mercies, most likely. That brief reprieve let Bennett finally see if anybody else of interest was in the cafeteria.
The two of them sat as close to the door as possible, Spence because the hangover made him unsteady on his feet, Bennett because he wanted off his bum leg as soon as possible. The Boisbleu twins sat at the same table about a quarter around the cafeteria's ring, arguing with each other over some arcane matter, an argument that Noisette was apparently winning. Something, something, not inheriting the family crest means you need to think outside the box, Bennett supposed?
A little bit past them, Bennett saw Indy and Ko, along with the second most annoying of the four possible third wheels the two could have had accompanying them. Fionn managed to stand out like a sore thumb, all big movements and waving arms and just… big-ness. Okay, sure, Fionn wasn't that tall, but he managed to fill a room in such a way that Bennett wasn't surprised that some legends called the man a giant. Maybe it was Charisma?
Nah, Bennett told himself. Couldn't be.
"—At least he's a good man!" The Lancer was insisting. "Nobunaga is a thug!"
Ko laughed incredulously. "Fionn, you kill people for money."
"And she kills at will!" Indy pointed out, glancing in surprised gratitude at Fionn.
"And yet, no one she doesn't have a grudge against has to worry about her murdering them out of 'professionalism.'" Ko shrugged. "I'd say she and Fionn are about equal in terms of moral questionability, honestly."
"But—"
Yeah, no, on second thought he was not going to linger on that one. That way lay madness. Instead, he decided to turn and check on something more sanity-inducing.
Like how Abby was getting on with Meuniere. The guy was a more relaxed sort, from what Bennett could remember, and probably had fun anecdotes from the times where Chaldea wasn't all on fire and the world disintegrating around their ears. Abby could definitely use some accounts of what the modern world was like when it was more normal.
His eyes landed on Abby and Meuniere, to see… Meuniere leaning as far away from Abby as he could, an expression on his face like he'd rather be literally anywhere else. Abby, for her part, could clearly tell something was up with him, and if the body language and snippets of slightly raised voices he could catch were anything to go by, they were caught in a loop of trying to excuse themselves while apologizing to the other.
That, uh. That was worrisome. And very much out of character for Meuniere, from what Bennett knew of the man. Granted, it was secondhand, and may not necessarily apply yet due to being a bit removed from Meuniere's time in the spotlight, but it still threw him for a bit of a loop.
"Your tribute, captain," Spencer said, setting a bacon sandwich on a plate in front of Bennett before sitting down across from him, three additional sandwiches piled on top of each other. "I may have ordered too many of these…"
"No," Bennett said, picking up his own sandwich. "Trust me, you didn't."
"Oh!" Spence said, brightening up, and looking at some spot over his shoulder. "And even if we did, we can just give one to Abby. Hi Abby!" Spence finished with a wave.
"Good morrow, Goodman Spencer," Abby said, offering Spence a polite curtsy before she flounced down next to Bennett. "Goodman, have I done aught wrong to Sir Meuniere?"
Bennett couldn't help the double take. "Uh… no?" he answered, unsure of his own words. "Uh, what brought this on?"
"He seemed uneasy," she said, eyes flicking between Bennett's face and the pile of bacon sandwiches on Spence's plate. "And appeared less so once I departed his presence. 'Twas as… a-as in…" Abby trailed off. Bennett couldn't help but fill in the gap for himself; there was really only one word that fit in the rest of her sentence.
Bennett reached one hand across the table, grabbed one of Spence's bacon sandwiches (a move which received no protest), and handed it to Abby.
"I've got a feeling about what might be going on," he admitted, even as Abby looked between him and the sandwich. "But let's get some breakfast in us first, hm? After all," he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Someone's gotta keep this drunk lug out of trouble."
"Hey!" Spence exclaimed. "That's – that's fair," he said, trailing off into another bite of bacon sandwich.
"Uh-huh," Bennett said, giving him the side-eye. "Just eat your dam—darn sandwich." Phew, he'd caught himself at the last minute, he thought.
The sharp elbow to his side, courtesy of Abby, told him it hadn't been quite fast enough.
"Alright, look straight at the light," Dr. Roman said from behind the ophthalmoscope. "Okay, looking normal, one sec…" The doctor flipped a couple of switches and turned a dial, making the light narrow into a slit. He scanned it over Bennett's eye a couple of times, looking for something in there, and a moment later pulled the slit lamp away. "Okay, you can blink now. Abigail, can you get the lights for us?"
"Aye, good physick." Abby reached up to tap a button on the wall, and the infirmary lights turned back on. Bennett himself leaned back ever so slightly, as much as he could safely do on a stool with no back, and rubbed at his eye ever so slightly.
"How's it looking in there?" he asked.
"The surgical wounds have all healed up pretty well, and your stitches look to have finished dissolving already," Dr. Roman said, even as he tapped away on a small tablet with what looked to be Bennett's chart pulled up on it. "And there've been no noticeable decreases in visual acuity, correct? Your lens prescription is still good on that eye?"
"Near as I can tell," Bennett answered. "And trust me, if the prescription was off, I'd have already gotten a bottle of ibuprofen from Adam Smith to handle the eyestrain."
"Good, good." A few more taps on the tablet, and Dr. Roman closed the app he'd been working on before tapping a new icon. "Well, that's settled. Onto the next order of business, which I figure I'll tell you first since you're already here, and then you can tell the rest of the Masters. Saves me some time, hm?"
"I mean." Bennett spun back and forth on the stool a little bit. "You're in charge, may as well delegate what you can."
"Oh thank goodness someone agrees," Roman said, sagging bonelessly into his chair. "I swear I can't delegate when da Vinci's around. She always tries to do everything by herself."
"I mean, she can do more than we mere humans?" Bennett hedged. "You know, Servant and all?"
"It's not even that," Roman said, head lolling back. "We do still have support staff. And I've gotten off track!" Roman leaned back forward in his chair, clapping his hands together before picking up the tablet and turning back to face Bennett. "We've managed to clear out the debris on the floor of Chaldea allotted for magus workshops. We've got open rooms, so I've set some aside for all of the Masters, but it's up to all of you to pick out who gets which. Wait, that's not right," he said, taking the tablet screen back. "Ah, all the Masters save Hinako. She already has one." And once again, the tablet turned back towards Bennett.
"Thanks doc," Bennett said, taking the tablet. "Definitely good news."
He looked at the map of Chaldea, and picked out the location of the empty workshops: two on either side of the elevator (because nobody wanted to be next to the elevator shaft, most likely), and the remaining four on the far side of the ring. Well, Bennett thought to himself, he'd be exercising Bad Leg Privileges to claim one of the ones right by the elevator, but as for the others – wait, hold up.
What was that last bit?
"Hey doc," he said, scrolling through the map on the tablet. "You said Hinako already had a workshop, right?"
"I did," Roman confirmed. "So did all of the other Masters, and several of the support staff in Chaldea. Oh, except for Ritsuka," he amended. "He hadn't been here long enough to get a workshop assigned."
"And everyone came with the intent of summoning a Servant, correct?" Bennett asked.
"Well, not every candidate I guess." Roman rubbed his chin with a gloved hand, pondering. "Some of them were like Ritsuka…"
"But most of them did," Bennett pushed, to which Roman nodded. "Okay, so: if most of the Masters were recruited with the intent of having them summon a Servant, and most of those Masters came from magus families with the means to procure one…" Bennett pointed a finger at the map of Chaldea's workshop floor. "How many, do you think, brought rare and expensive catalysts to summon a powerful Servant?"
There was a brief silence between the two. Roman put a hand on his chin, apparently deep in thought.
"Goodman?" Abby asked, walking past Roman to look over Bennett's shoulder; he noted that as Abby passed, the good doctor's shoulders tensed, and a small shudder ran through him. "Would this not be theft?"
"The Director of Chaldea has special authority to confiscate the contents of a member magus' workshop in times of emergency," Roman said, eyes still fixed on the tablet in Bennett's hands. "But while that authority exists, it can't circumvent any protections a magus put on their workshop. I wager that some of them are unprotected after the explosion, but enough workshops will have at least a Bounded Field still active that just trying to go in and take what you want is a dangerous proposition."
"But just to clarify," Bennett added, the wheels turning in his head as he thought this through. "If a way through those protections were to become available, then we have the right to take what we need?"
Dr. Roman sighed, handing the tablet back to Bennett. "Yes, I suppose so," he said, his voice weary. "Bennett. How, exactly, are you planning to do this?"
"Well…" Bennett stood up from the stool, using his cane to help get him upright. "I'm still working on that part, to be honest."
It wouldn't do to mention that he planned to get the immortal elemental's help. Not when nobody else knew anywhere near as much as he did about what she was. (And so nobody could rib him about just how futile his attempts would probably be…)
"Just don't get yourself killed," Roman said, waving him off. "Or blow up Chaldea again."
"I won't," Bennett said. "I promise. Alright Abby, let's go tell the others."
"Mhmm!" Abby hopped to her feet, and the two of them walked past Dr. Roman to exit the infirmary (during which Bennett, again, noticed Roman nearly suppress a shudder at Abby's passing).
"Goodman," she began once they'd exited the infirmary, "what are these workshops?"
"Well," he said as the two headed towards the simulators, where they would hopefully intercept Ko before Scathach got her started on the next bit of boot camp from the Land of Shadows. "It's sort of like a magic laboratory. It's a space for a magus to study, do research, and conduct experiments in private."
"So it is a closet of private reflection?" Abby asked, to which Bennett nodded. "What sort of studies might I do in one?"
"Well, there's—"
And then Abby's question properly filtered in through his brain meats, sending his train of thought careening into the broadside of a barn.
"Uh…"
Bennett looked to Abigail. She was… how old was she again? Twelve? So that would make her a sixth or seventh grader, Bennett thought to himself. And that, using his own experience, translated to…
"Goodman?"
Well shit, Bennett thought. She could read, she could write, but even with the Grail, she probably had no clue how the world worked. This kid probably needed to be in school. Or at least getting private tutoring, since all schools in the world were currently smoke and ash. The problem with getting tutoring from someone in Chaldea, though, was that Bennett was beginning to see a particular pattern emerge: regular humans (Ritsuka excepted?) could not stand being around Abigail.
Meuniere, one of the most level-headed people in Chaldea, was actively trying to get away from her. And as a second and third data point? After eating her breakfast (courtesy of the Spence's eyes being bigger than the Spence's stomach), Abby went to try and chat with the Boisbleu twins, who… both found an excuse to get out of the cafeteria as soon as possible.
And lastly, if the shudder from Dr. Roman was anything to go by, then even Solomon himself wasn't immune to that effect.
Existence Outside the Domain, it seemed, also included outside the vicinity of (most) any non-Foreigner human.
Which meant that as far as finding this kid a comparable equivalent to school went...
"I admit, my facility with languages is not the best among my peers," Smith's jowls jiggled as he bobbed his head up and down. "My Greek is exceedingly shaky, but Throne or no, I am still fluent in the essentials - French, a little German... Latin, of course, though if she is an Anabaptist then she may refuse the language altogether."
Wow, Bennett thought to himself. Talk about false humility – actually, wait. That may have genuinely been pitiful for the times, now that he thought about it. Regardless, that wasn't the important part.
Okay, it was, but not all of the important part.
"Well, let's see." Toby brought up his hands, and began to count off his fingers. "She should really be learning mathematics, one or another foreign language, English grammar, literature, world history, earth and life sciences, and all of that to a reasonable level for her age." He looked at his fingers. "Let's see, what am I missing…"
"I never could understand Newton's workings on mathematics," Smith confessed. "But contrary to what M'colleague believes, a proper secondary education shouldn't require such a thing. As for the rest… up to a point, certainly. I fear that my teachings of the Good Book would not go over well, but Chaucer, Milton, Dante… some lighter fare as well - Shakespeare…."
The Caster held up his hands. "Certainly, the scope of my knowledge largely ended with my demise, but I have Created modern day texts before." He shook his head, shuddering slightly. "Even if Monsieur Debreu remains profoundly arcane." Adam Smith sighed, flicking his fingers irritably towards the slim white volume he had been reading. "Regardless, my chief contribution to the girl's education will not be expertise, but pedagogy."
"So, the foundations," Bennett said, thinking to himself.
The Bible wasn't exactly high on either of their lists; in fact, Abby could probably teach them more about the book than either could to her, if either man cared to spend the time on it (which he didn't). Bennett was no fan of Chaucer or Milton, and Dante was probably not the literature to share with a girl of Abby's upbringing… plus, there was the modern world to consider.
"Uh, on second thought, scratch literature," he said. "I'll handle that myself, I don't trust most curriculums to pick good books for a kid her age anyway."
At that, Smith gave Bennett a disappointed look, shaking his head slightly. The man's expression gave Bennett the impression that he'd heard this kind of thing a thousand times before, and the person saying it had been wrong all one thousand times. "Respectfully, young Master, you have neither the time nor, frankly, the disposition to teach. It is a noble idea, but each hour spent in such a task is an hour you are not preparing for the next Singularity."
"You are… absolutely correct," Bennett admitted. "But still, literature courses need to change to reflect the times in which they're taught, so in this matter, since I know the modern literature, I set the book list. Clear?"
Smith had a strange look on his face. "Homosexuality is no longer considered a sin in this era, as I recall?" he asked, the word sounding new on his tongue, as though he'd only ever come across it in print before.
"Considering homosexuality to be a sin is itself more sinful now than homosexuality ever was," Bennett fired back. "At least to people who—"
"Yet," the Caster continued, "young Abigail comes from an era and culture in which it very much was. To bring her up to this modern age is well and fine. But the Anabaptists always were a restrictive and puritanical sort."
"And Abigail is more than a bit of a rebel," Bennett retorted. "Trust me when I say that at the first opportunity to shed some of what her upbringing instilled, she will. I just want to make sure she's learning the right stuff to replace it."
"Which she will, through the sympathy of those she is surrounded by," Smith nodded. "Yet the systematic worldview in which she was raised will remain - the scaffolding will survive the loss of the structure. You will need to lay foundations ere your desired windows shatter in the breeze."
"So what you're saying is… shit," Bennett said, mumbling the curse under his breath.
Okay, why did he think arguing education with a teacher was a good idea again?
"Alright. I'll cede the point on this one. But!" He raised one finger before Adam Smith could get a word in. "There are a few books I want on that literature curriculum. Just because they're genuinely good books, and you can't expect a kid to only read proper literature and not get bored of it at some point. Reading is a great pastime, and I've seen lit curriculums ruin it for too many people."
"And so they will not be on that curriculum for that very reason," Smith's smile turned sly. "But fear not; we academics have our ways."
Bennett frowned, tapping his cane on the floor as he thought of a good repartee.
"You get two months," Bennett said. "Then I want a… fuck," he said out loud. "Was I seriously about to just ask for a parent-teacher conference?" Who the hell did he think he was, Abby's dad? She wasn't his kid! She was…
Um. Actually, this was a good question, and… one he didn't want to think about right now.
"I had no idea that such a term existed!" The Caster brightened up. "Fear not - the role of a… young Master is no less important than the role of a tutor. It will only be natural for us to converse."
"Okay, good," Bennett said, rubbing at his brow to try and forestall the headache he knew would be coming on sooner rather than later. "So, in that case… start her up on lessons in a week or so? Is that enough time for you to prep a syllabus?"
Smith reached into his pocket and drew out a sheet of paper. "I confess I had some idle time before meeting with The Philosopher," he said sheepishly. "Some modifications will need to be made, but I do not believe the quadrivium has changed overmuch."
Right. Servants. Of course he should have expected this.
"Okay," he said. "Sounds good. Uh… start tomorrow then. Good talking to you." With that, Bennett turned and walked away, leaving the Caster to his ministrations over his syllabus full of—
Hold up.
The heck was a quadrivium?
Bennett sat before his workstation, a beaker of water set upon its surface, a braided copper wire in one hand, and an instant-read thermometer in the other. He'd tried to get this damn thing working so many times already, and each time he'd tried… failure. Failure of a few different sorts, but all his past attempts had invariably failed. But maybe this time would be different, he thought to himself.
His mind's eye flashed back to that great, endless blue, its hate burning into the cosmos. He imagined it scorching his skin, burning it black, reducing him to naught but ashes—
His Magic Circuits opened, the familiar heat pulsing down his spine, and he set his focus on the beaker in front of him.
It should have been an endlessly simple thing to do, he thought to himself as he channeled the refined magic energy through his Circuits. He wanted two results: freeze the water, light a fire. It should have been easy. It wasn't complicated, it was just—
The thermometer spiked upwards five degrees celsius, even as he felt the braided copper wire in his hand become painfully hot.
"Shit!" Bennett hissed, letting go of both the copper and the thermometer. They clattered against the bottom of the beaker as he pushed away from the table, the rolling chair he'd been sat in spinning around from the force. His thumb worried at his palm, and he grumbled under his breath, still confused as to what was causing him issues.
It should have been easy. Just freeze the water and light the fire, using the same spell. So why wasn't it working? Why was it that the only thing he'd managed to do so far was either heat both, or cool both? What was going wrong?
Why was he fucking up on this?
"Hey, you okay?" a voice broke in. Bennett looked up to see Dory walking over his way, one of da Vinci's practice-level curseable puppets under an arm.
"Just fine," Bennett grumbled. "Just having trouble getting this stupid thing to work."
And oh, did that rankle. Everything else had been going pretty simply for him so far, to boot. Hell, despite his new handicap and his… well, deficit in Magic Circuits compared to the others, he'd been doing exceedingly well. Opening and closing his Magic Circuits? He'd gotten it down within the first three tries. Structural Analysis? He one-shot that. Reinforcement? While he couldn't match Ko's efficiency, he did figure it out first. Alteration? Utter simplicity.
But this? The very next step he needed to take?
Nope. He may as well have been pounding his head against a brick wall for all the good it had done him. And he'd been stuck at this point for literally weeks now. And as for the others?
Well… the poppets under Dory's arm were proof enough of his falling behind again. And oh, did that rankle.
"Well, I can't get a curse to work worth a fuck," Dory said, rattling the little voodoo doll, "So you help me and I'll help you?"
"Sure," Bennett said with a sigh, starting to grab his cane before Dory waved it off.
"I can work over here," he set the doll down on the table. "And I mean, yours is probably less…" he made a gesture with his hands, "woooo."
"If you insist." Bennett wheeled himself back over to his table and beckoned Dory, who joined him. "I'm trying to get this water," he pointed at the beaker, "to freeze, and direct the heat out of the water through this copper wire, and turn that heat into fire. But I just can't get it to work right."
"So the temperature adjustment," his friend muttered with a nod, "just with your element directly involved." Dory looked up from the setup. "Okay, what's your thought process? The internals?"
"Well, the copper rod is to conduct heat away from the water, and back out into the air for me to grab. But the problem I'm having is that either I just…"
Bennett waved a hand in the air, just to give himself something to do. Normally when he talked things over with people, he liked to pace. The problem was that pacing… well, hurt to do, now. But he wanted to physically do something with his body as he spoke, so just… moving his arms was about all he had left.
"Either everything gets cold, or everything gets hot, and I've been completely unable to separate out those effects from each other."
That got a nod as his friend pulled up a chair to sit. "And what's your visualization? I know what I did to change the temperatures, but what's your thought process or visualization for your spell?"
"Well, right now it's using the copper rod as a bridge," Bennett explained, picking it up out of the water and waving it. "I mean, I guess it's doing double duty as a medium to channel the spell and as a bridge—you don't think that's causing it, do you?" he asked.
"Maybe? The way I'd go about it would be grabbing the energy in the water and moving it out through the copper wire, and try to get faster doing that." A puzzled look crossed his face. "You're starting with the wire?"
"I am," Bennett confirmed. "The wire's the channel I use to get the spell going, and also the medium for heat transfer. But instead, it's just… dumping energy into the system, or pulling all the energy into just the wire-"
"I grow tired of watching you think yourself in a circle, Master."
Bennett scowled, and only turned his chair enough to spare a single glance at his Servant, as the Egyptian shimmered into existence in a sunbeam. He'd been able to avoid having to deal with the Pharaoh for most of the last few weeks, mostly by just… ignoring him. Unfortunately, it looked like that wasn't going to be possible, what with Bennett's having company.
"Well then if you're getting tired of it," he bit back, "then please, oh great, magnanimous Pharaoh." Bennett waved a hand. "Go ahead. Enlighten me."
"Hm." The Pharaoh extended one hand, holding it palm up. "Consider now, the sun." Within Ozymandias' outstretched palm, an orb of brilliant flame burst to life, making both Bennett and Dory wince and blink at the sudden brightness. "From its light, we gain life. Through its heat, we are comfortable. It is perfect, pure, radiant."
"Yes," Bennett started testily. "It's the sun. We know this."
"Then tell me," Ozymandias said, his other hand reaching down to the table and picking the braided copper wire out of Bennett's beaker. "If I wish to grow my crops, or heat my waters, why would I be using this?"
"Well since you weren't listening, I was trying to use it to channel—"
"No!" The Pharaoh yelled. "Foolish, foolish, foolish! Perhaps such would have worked with a proper Mystic Code, but all you do is interfere with the working!" Ozymandias placed the copper wire between the miniature sun in his hand and the two Masters, the braided metal cord and his hand partially shielding them from its glare. "This is all you are doing. Shading the light of your sun, not lensing it."
Ozymandias closed his hand, his solar sphere winking out of existence, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He gestured down at the table, which now held naught but the beaker of water, sitting alone.
"Try again," he commanded. "Without the impediment." His tone brooked no argument, offered no room for clever interpretation.
Bennett looked down to his Command Spells, just for a moment. But then he dismissed the thought. For as much as he found the Pharaoh's presence grating, and for as disturbed as he was at the man's presence? The fact of the matter remained that he was an incredibly accomplished magus. If he had bothered to offer a suggestion…
That image filled his mind again, of his bones blackening, crumbling to ash in the fires of an uncaring blue sun. The familiar heat of his Magic Circuits thrummed along his spine, and with a renewed focus, he dipped one finger into the water.
Bennett envisioned what he wanted to happen – the energy draining from the water, slowing the movement of the molecules until it all began to stop; that energy flowing up, out, and into his grasp. The image set, Bennett focused his magical energy, and pulled.
Around where his finger dipped into the water, it grew cloudy, and began to creak. The water cooled, crystallized, and formed shards of ice, spreading along the surface of the water, and then curling down in fingers of frost.
The claws of ice spread lower into the beaker, until they hit the bottom of the glass vessel and crept along its sides. A little bit after, the rest of the beaker clouded over, the ice cracking as the freezing water expanded, pushing the surface out of the way, shoving his finger up with it.
And minutes later, when Bennett lifted his hand away from the beaker, a small marble of flame came with it, hovering just over the palm of his hand. It was the heat that he'd ripped from the water, and it glowed a dull, wavering orange in his palm. The fireball—because small as it might have been, that was what it was—flickered as he held it between his hands, protecting the flame from a harsh enough breeze to snuff it out.
"Nice!" Bennett turned to look at Dory, pausing halfway through to make sure he didn't lose the small ember flickering in his hands, and saw a great ear-splitting grin across the man's face as he stared at the fireball.
"Good," the Pharaoh said, his own hand coming down and plucking the flame from Bennett, whereupon it streamed back into the beaker and melted the water anew. "Again, until it takes but a snap of your fingers. And you!"
Ozymandias turned, and favored Dory with a smile.
"The Pharaoh have long been masters of curses! And I can scarce endure my Master's meandering attempts, let alone yours!" A heavy hand came down on Dory's shoulder as the Pharaoh turned him away. "We shall see if you are prepared. And if you are not, then it is best you begin to truly learn, boy!"
"I appreciate it. I'm actually a bit unsure where I'm messing up." Dory let himself be guided back to his table, where his da Vinci-provided practice tools laid. "Most of this stuff has come pretty easy. Grab the aether, give it an aspect or feel, and put it somewhere. But it's not… taking? Like, I think I've done a sort of anti-Reinforcement." He held up the doll, which did seem a bit worn at the edges, now that Bennett looked at it. "But it doesn't feel right to be a curse."
"That is because it is not," Ozymandias said, giving the poppet a disdainful tap. "This is merely a more esoteric form of Reinforcement. Advanced, for you, but still incorrect!" The Pharaoh tossed that doll aside, and retrieved another, unblemished and unmarred by any prior experimentation. "Now, look upon my works! Observe, and learn!"
Well… that was enough of a cue for Bennett to go back to his own stuff. Whatever crash course Dory was about to endure at the Pharaoh's behest, it was none of Bennett's concern, he thought as he turned back to his beaker. He had to practice. He had to get better at this, faster with it, stronger.
It wouldn't be enough to pull Bennett away from benchwarmer status, no. He was still too slow, underpowered. He simply had too little to offer in the field. But it was still something.
At the very least, it was a start.
Two days later, Bennett had graduated from his beakers. He now had a three gallon jug of water, one which was stubbornly refusing to let him freeze it all the way in one go. Oh sure, he could certainly rip the heat out of the liquid a bit at a time, but that left him with the problem of what to do with that energy. Heat was a funny thing; it wanted to spread out to fill a space, wanted to just leave, and do as it would.
And he hadn't managed to pull off the multitasking needed to maintain more than one fireball at a time. He'd tried, oh how he had tried.
It had led to teaching Abby how to work a fire extinguisher. Or, rather, correction: it had led to trying to teach Abby how to work a fire extinguisher, failing to explain it in time, and her using her surprisingly scary levels of strength to rip the damn fire extinguisher in half, and put out the fire in the least ceremonious way possible.
The ridiculous belly laughter from Ozymandias as he fireproofed Bennett's work area was practically an earworm by now… no, it was best not to think about it.
"You."
No matter what anybody said, Bennett did not shriek like a little girl, bang his bad knee on a mostly-full jug of water, and topple to the floor, all in one ridiculous, painful, and ridiculously painful sequence of events. It did not happen, and the only other person who could say otherwise was too antisocial to say so.
Speaking of disdainful persons, Bennett looked up at the person who'd managed to sneak inside his and the other Masters' training room without so much as a sound, and only didn't have to hide a wince because he'd already been wincing.
Akuta Hinako stood behind him, one arm cupping the elbow of the other, which held a book whose place was only kept by her thumb between the pages. She had an unreadable expression on her face, one that Bennett supposed could have been anything between amusement and seething hatred, and he would never be able to tell the difference.
Hinako quirked an eyebrow before she reached down with her free hand, pulling Bennett up off the floor with surprising force.
"You are coming with me," she said, to Bennett's utter bafflement. Then, without so much as a word of explanation, and with her book still in the other hand, she shoved his cane into his grip, took position beside him, and pushed Bennett out of the room and down the hall.