A/N: Because fanfic needs more Nobu, damn it!

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Strange Tales of the East Coast Parahuman Capital On The Bay

by Shadow Crystal Mage

Chapter 1: The Flimsy Excuse Plot!

Disclaimer: Nasuverse stuff belongs to Type-Moon. Worm stuff belongs to Wildbow.

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It was a perfectly ordinary night in Brockton Bay. The moon was shining, the drunks were singing, evil was flourishing as good people did nothing, thieves thieved, hussies hustled, druggies drugged, and some lunatic had challenged a dragon to single combat. This was an hour ago. The challenge was ongoing.

"Mwahahahaha! Is that the best you can do, lizard? Pathetic! Soon you will fall and the 第六天魔王 will rule the ABB, and soon, this city!" the lunatic laughed, managing to be heard over 3000 muskets firing constantly in three separate waves. She jumped nimbly from old boat to old boat in the metal-strewn stretch of water known as the Boat Graveyard. "And then, from this city, the world! MWAHAHAHAHAHA– AHH! MY HAIR IS ON FIRE, MY HAIR IS ON FIRE glug glug glug!"

Yes, it was a perfectly ordinary night in Brockton Bay.

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Her name was Okita Souji and she was a Saber.

At least, she usually was.

Now however, she was just a housewife, trying to stretch a meager government stipend between two people living in a small apartment they could barely afford. Ah, to think her distinguished career in law enforcement would lead to this! Damn it Masters, keep track of your Servants! She knew events could be shiny and distracting, but at least notice when one of your SSR Sabers falls out of the Shadow Border!

Sighing once more about negligent Masters who don't bother to call or write anymore now that they gotten you to Bond Level 10 and gotten what they wanted, Souji hurried about her errands in her elegant pink kimono and darker hakama, with her long leather boots being her only western extravagance. Her sword was carried discreetly over her shoulder in its carry bag, her purse hung from its strung beneath her hands clasped demurely before her as she walked with a jaunty step, looking like a perfectly ordinary young maiden on her way to market.

Unfortunately, that was a perfectly ordinary young maiden from the Meiji era, and so in the wretched hive of scum and villainy that was their new home for now, she stood out like a fresh cherry blossom in a turd pile.

Humming happily to herself, Souji made her way to their butcher's. "Good morning," she said sunnily in the local occidental dialect, some creole version of English with all sorts of linguistic add-ons hanging off of it like yanderes on the Masters or Medbs on a Cu. "How are you today Park-san?"

Bruce Park was, point in fact, Korean, but one knew not to argue with strangely-dressed weirdos in Brockton Bay. "Pretty good," he said in a voice that somehow managed to be both surprising high-pitched and gruff. "The usual then?"

As Souji waited for the fine-ground cuts of beef and pork that would make up their meals for the next few days– such extravagance!– her purse made a sound. She stared at it for a moment before before remembering what made that sound, before reaching in through the house keys, coins, bills, corned gunpowder, a gold Nerofest medal from a few years ago and her comb to grab the boring brick of a government-issued cellphone. "Moshi-moshi!" she greeted cheerfully.

"Nazo no Yuusha X," the semi-familiar voice on the line said, their pronunciation of her chosen name decent enough even with their accent. Not the one who called himself Jitsuryoku-Sensei, just some lowly peon she'd heard before. "Would you please come to PRT Headquarters to pick up Dairokutenmao?" The pronunciation was worse there, likely a product of apathy compounded by exasperation. They pronounced it 'rock', like a stone you'd find on the ground.

Souji would once have winced. Later she would have sighed. Now, after another night where she'd stayed futilely waiting for someone who never showed up and dying at least once as blood exploded from her mouth when her tuberculosis kicked in, she was just housewife pissed. "Ah," she said, in a tone that sent shivers up Bruce Park's spine. He knew that tone. "Is that so? Very well then, I shall pick up the idiot shortly. Please feel free to set her on fire, she can take it. "

Serenely, she depressed the stud that disconnected the device. Convenient, yet inconvenient at the same time. Only the west would create such a think. "Park-san, would you please put that in your cold box? I will come back for it later, it seems I have a idiot to bring home."

"Sure. I'll have it waiting when you get back," the butcher said warily.

"Thank you, Park-san," Okita said, bowing to him demurely before serenely leaving the establishment.

It was not unexpected there was a brief but sharp sonic boom after she was out of sight. Park sighed, really wishing that woman would go somewhere else. It always made him nervous, that eventually Oni Lee would get around to bombing his store just to get her. Still, she was a good customer for all that.

He wondered how many dogs she owned, to keep buying so much sawdust.

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The sonic boom ended in front of PRT Headquarters in downtown Brockton Bay. However, it was not the fair and demure Okita Souji who entered the ludicrously extravagant glass doors but the mysterious brave 謎の勇者X! Not to be confused with Mysterious Heroine X, who she is totally not stealing anything from. Really. At all.

Clad in white with a blue haori, NYX cunningly concealed her identity by pulling her hair back in a ponytail and wearing a Fugly Bob's baseball cap, a single lock of bright pink hair sticking up straight and tall like a heroic banner of sincerity! A pair of round, shiny glasses completed the image, perfectly obscuring her identity to anyone who would try and guess. After all, it worked for the greatest legendary hero of the west, didn't it?

Sword in hand, NYX strode towards the front desk, teeth most certainly not clenched or anything like that. "Hello, I'm here to pick up a stupid idiot who doesn't learn her lessons?"

The agent, Tom, didn't even bother making any sort of pretense of checking his computer, instead quickly tapping the phone. "She's here!" he said, sounding hurried. Understandable. The few times Nobu had woken up in their cells, they had needed to redecorate, what with her setting everything on fire and shooting her way up through the basement.

The PRT and they had an understanding. Dairokutenmao, the Great Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, was rightfully called a villain, but unfortunately, she was their villain. For she was the only one moronic enough to challenge the half-breed dragon who ruled as one of the bandit lords of this wretched city, and apparently they had no Assassins to do the job for them properly. Not even one as half-assed as poor Margaretha. Stupid self-healing lizard.

It hadn't started like that. When they had both realized they were stuck in this Lostbelt, left behind by their Master (she blamed one of the yandere. A Tamamo or Kiyohime had something to do with this, though she wouldn't put it past that Mysterious Heroine X loony) surely by some accident and not because there'd been a hole in the Archive somewhere, and Okita had no choice but to sign on as a part-timer in the local government's elite policing institution (how that had made her nostalgic for the beginnings of the Shinsengumi!) so they could receive their small stipend, Nobu, as useless neets were wont to do, hand blown a portion of those finances to go drinking. From there, she heard about the one who called himself a dragon, one thing had led to another, and Souji had been worried she'd have to give back her government check less than a day after she'd gotten it and be sent to prison besides as the resulting battle had set a street aflame. Oh woe is her, why was she surrounded by pyromaniacs?

Fortunately, most seemed to believe that the fires had been caused by some wizard named Myrrdin, and while she would normally not condone something like than, anyone naming themselves after the Mage of Flowers got what they deserved.

Nobu had challenged the dragon again, and it had been angry.

A month of nigh-daily challenges later, the dragon had become weary .

Three months later, the dragon had become exasperated.

Almost a year on, the dragon regarded it as a constant, annoying distraction and occasional place to channel misplaced aggression.

Now, more than a year later, some sort of strange balance was coming back to the city. Nobu was clear villain, but as the only moron who actively sought out the lizard unless she was stopped for domination over all Asians in the city, the PRT wearily regarded her as something to tolerate to suppress the one called Lung. Okita, for her part, dealt with the crazy Americans who acted like even crazier Germans, the crazy homeless people who did a lot of drugs, and tried not to make eye contact with anyone as she dragged a still-snoring Nobunaga back home by one booted foot. The fool was faking it, of course, but the alternative was admitting she was awake and that no cell or vehicle the PRT had could hold her.

They were, after all, still Servants. Nobu might be at her weakest in a world with no Divinity or Mystery, but she was still an SR Archer. Nothing any mere human could build in this era could come close.

After three times and as many risks to their poor stipend, they eventually worked out a deal. As the lizard was, in fact, also a villain, one could say that Nobu had been almost heroic in her desire to defeat him, her loudly proclaimed declarations she would conquer his lands and holdings and rule this city with an iron fist and lots of clones notwithstanding. Which is why Nobu got to use the PRT cells as her own personal drunk tank now. Stupid neet. This meant Souji would have to go out and beat up crazy Americans who thought they were Germans tonight, or else their stipend would be threatened.

Actually, the fool had been jobless for over a year now! That's it, it was time for her to find a job!

But first, back to Park-san's for their meat! Souji was now very proud of her croquettes.

And she supposed it could be worse. She could be stuck here with one of the Nero!

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- To be continued…?

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A/N: Well, I thought I'd join the bandwagon of weird Worm/Grand Order fics with stupid excuse plots. This is set in... what, 2010? 2009? Eh, whatever would be funny.

Please review, C&C welcome.

Until next time, this is Shadow, signing off.