Mizu
Software Developer
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
Aah. I thought the term 'shutterbug' being used was just a nickname of sorts - whoops.
It's Always Snowy in Chaldea [Fate/Grand Order Group SI]
- Thread starter October Daye
- Start date
I quoted myself for facetious effect, yo.
Boy, after all that dialogue to work out a problem with group dynamics, I can see why the friendship punch is a popular maneuver. So much faster.
Interesting insight into Abby there, with her 'managing' an adult's temper. Kinda inverts their relationship, where the little girl is more mature and socially capable than the adult. Then again, having an Outer God in your head probably isn't as socially stunting as going through law school.
Interesting insight into Abby there, with her 'managing' an adult's temper. Kinda inverts their relationship, where the little girl is more mature and socially capable than the adult. Then again, having an Outer God in your head probably isn't as socially stunting as going through law school.
Abby: My thanks! 'Tis the trauma.
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.
Last edited:
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.
Blinktwice13
Underpaid Struggle Bus Attendant
- Location
- Eastern US
- Pronouns
- He/Him
No. Industrious, no. Oh no no no no no. I dread to see what comes of poking at Gaia and Alaya.
Congrats to Furiko for her new boot camp counselor!
Congrats to Andoriol for having the most ease assimilating into Chaldea onscreen!
Congrats to October for getting enough bond points with Paisen to be her gofer!
I approve Rits using Patroclus to get Achilles in line. If the man himself ever shows up, I might die.
There's a hundred little details I don't have the brainpower to mention one by one but I love them all.
Congrats to Furiko for her new boot camp counselor!
Congrats to Andoriol for having the most ease assimilating into Chaldea onscreen!
Congrats to October for getting enough bond points with Paisen to be her gofer!
I approve Rits using Patroclus to get Achilles in line. If the man himself ever shows up, I might die.
There's a hundred little details I don't have the brainpower to mention one by one but I love them all.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Jamaica eating his homework, that's what. Good girl, GOOD GIRL!
- Location
- Academy City
- Pronouns
- They
I'm honestly just very happy for Yu. Good timeline for her, even with the end of the world.
Don't worry about it.
In my head, Achilles' follow up line is said with the same sort of intonation as George Bluth.
Fixed that for you.
Blinktwice13
Underpaid Struggle Bus Attendant
- Location
- Eastern US
- Pronouns
- He/Him
As a thought: given Furiko's training is less intense than Cu Chulainn's (setting aside necessity because squishy mortal), wouldn't that mean Scathach likes Setanta more?
robopanda
My avatar is the original Avatar!
- Location
- The Northern Air Temple
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Jamaica is obviously acting as an agent of the Counter Force to stop Indy's looking into it. Emiya was probably ordered to let her off the leash. In this case, things are done in the style of Perry the Platypus.
Mizu
Software Developer
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
I confess to missing whatever reference is being made here. Why is Achilles showing up to watch Ko's training bad?
Uh. I take it Achilles is going off ancient Greek views re: romance, going by this comment?
Can modern-day humans even learn runes? I thought it was a lost art now that gods and such aren't about anymore?
I kinda want to know more about what happened at Pompei now.
So, what's with this 'adventure time' 11th Hour mini-singularity? Having not seen the show I've failed to get the reference, presuming there was one. I'm guessing Mash cannot rayshift due to never having left Chaldea, up in Antartica, and thus not mingling with humanity at large prior to the story beginning?
spencer1519
(Verified Heretic)
- Location
- Oregon, USA
Runes are learned in the modern day, just at greatly reduced capacity. However, Touko Aozaki does possess knowledge of three primordial runes. The runes still function, it's just that there aren't a lot of teachers around for them these days. Luckily, Scathach is one such teacher.
A bunch of servants know Primordial runes, like Bryn, Sigurd, and Cu, but Scathach explicitly knows how to teach them.
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yes. More than that, there's one other thing to keep in mind: both Achilles and Patroclus slept around with other men that weren't each other, but we're operating under the assumption that permission was asked for and granted on those occasions; a semi-open relationship, as it were. Here, we have no Patroclus. Therefore, with no way to ask for permission, by default there is no permission, and thus, it is cheating if doing it with a guy that isn't Patroclus.
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.
- Location
- Academy City
- Pronouns
- They
Man that scene from Zero is truly a gift.
- Location
- Academy City
- Pronouns
- They
They know who was president then, because in Fate/Zero Iskandar mentions Bill Clinton as a potential opponent in his world conquest (and one that he looks forward to fighting).
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
This fic continues to be some excellent stuff. Keep it up!
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!
Blinktwice13
Underpaid Struggle Bus Attendant
- Location
- Eastern US
- Pronouns
- He/Him
On the one hand, I get what Socrates is trying to do here. On the other, the fact is that poking at the unknown in Nasu is a good way to get poked back and maybe lose said finger in the bargain. Going in whole-hog blind is. Inadvisable.
Considering Ko lost a good chunk of her arm and scrambled her egg playing with forces she didn't understand (albeit in an awesome way), I'd assume Indy would exercise a little more caution. Then again, all of you are human and this might just be how his character arc kicks off.
We've seen the start of October's because it's very very blatant. If Andoriol's started, I haven't twigged to it. Furiko's is likely tied up with Scathach and what she said on summoning (acceptable risks/bad trade offs). Spencer's I haven't seen yet either.
My mounting dread of someone poking several metaphorical dragons in the Nasuverse unprepared aside…
HELL YES MUSASHI! Also, why did Ritsuka twitch at the mention of the bi council? Does he swing both ways? Is he confused? Has he not knowingly met a lgbtq+ person before? That's not a detail you just slip in without it being noticed.
I am a fan of Xiang Yu being the bumbling dad friend. Bless his big boisterous heart. Also a murder machine, but details.
Medea friendship through models is great.
I liked the chill big bro vibe I got from Dory and Ritsuka hanging out in New Orleans. It was really sweet.
…NOBU WHAT ARE YOU DOING. NOBU STAHP.
Considering Ko lost a good chunk of her arm and scrambled her egg playing with forces she didn't understand (albeit in an awesome way), I'd assume Indy would exercise a little more caution. Then again, all of you are human and this might just be how his character arc kicks off.
We've seen the start of October's because it's very very blatant. If Andoriol's started, I haven't twigged to it. Furiko's is likely tied up with Scathach and what she said on summoning (acceptable risks/bad trade offs). Spencer's I haven't seen yet either.
My mounting dread of someone poking several metaphorical dragons in the Nasuverse unprepared aside…
HELL YES MUSASHI! Also, why did Ritsuka twitch at the mention of the bi council? Does he swing both ways? Is he confused? Has he not knowingly met a lgbtq+ person before? That's not a detail you just slip in without it being noticed.
I am a fan of Xiang Yu being the bumbling dad friend. Bless his big boisterous heart. Also a murder machine, but details.
Medea friendship through models is great.
I liked the chill big bro vibe I got from Dory and Ritsuka hanging out in New Orleans. It was really sweet.
…NOBU WHAT ARE YOU DOING. NOBU STAHP.