"I surely hope you plan on getting up sometime today."

"Ughh... huh? Sarge? Is that you?" Being woken up an hour before his daily norm, Simmons attempted to rub the drowsiness from his eyes as a blurry red figure kicked the mattress he laid upon.

"To pull a Servant out of the war is a feat I have never thought possible. However, to then leave oneself vulnerable to a counter attack immediately after doing such an act? You truly have quite the nerve-"

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Simmons, now wide awake from horror, immediately retorted before the man could finish his lecture. Walking up to the door of his bedroom with forceful stomps, he opened it angrily then immediately pointed to the note pinned to it. Written upon the top of the parchment was the phrase 'Simmons' Room: Code and Conduct'.

"Rule #1: Any individual wishing to enter Simmons' bedroom at any given time (excluding Sarge) must receive formal permission before doing so."

"Look kid, that's fine and all but-"

"Rule #2: If simply wishing to speak to Simmons who is currently located in Simmons' room, knock first. If 60 seconds has passed and Simmons has not responded, you should come back at a later time."

Releasing an irritated sigh, the strange man casted an unimpressed glare towards Simmons. "Okay listen, I suggest-"

"RULE #9!", Simmons yelled, interrupting the man once more. "Never, EVER, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, enter Simmons' room with your shoes on. He cleans regularly and it is very disrespectful to him when you-"

"ENOUGH!" Although Simmons could have swore the man was unarmed merely seconds ago, a large sword sliced a clean sweep through the center of the sheet of paper, leaving it's two halves to to gracefully flutter to the ground. "I don't know who you are, or who you work for, but if you have any hopes of continuing to breath for more than a few more seconds then I suggest you take me to whoever is in charge around here."

Simmons, too startled to speak, simply continued to cast a glare at the man.

"Now." A final warning was given.

"Fine." Simmons said as he gritted his teeth in irritation. After placing his helmet and armour on with haste, they exited through the door then made their way down the hall. "But you owe me 5 cents for print money, mister."


"Grif!" Simmons head poked through the open door of Grif's bedroom. "We seem to have an intruder-"

"Yeah yeah, in a minute Simmons." Interrupting him, he turned his attention back to the man sitting at the base of his bed. With candy wrappers scattered all over the bedroom floor, there was little to no other places for him to place himself. "So let me get this straight, you're a soldier too, but all your job consists of is sitting outside this gate and looking down the stairs for people?"

"Again, it is nothing as simple as that." Looking almost as irritated as Simmons, the man with long hair and a purpley-blue robe held his held up with a single hand. "I am bound by the Ryuudouji Temple by the contract my master placed upon me. I am unable to leave it."

"Your commanding officer ORDERED you to spend all day sitting around? This job is sounding better and better by the minute!" Now holding his face up within both of his hands, it seemed the irritation was causing the man agony.

"If you were wise, Assassin, you wouldn't waste your breath on these idiots." The man, chimed in, revealing his presence from behind Simmons.

"Archer?" The man addressed as Assassin stood up, addressing the other intruder as Archer in a rather surprised manner.

"Hey!", Simmons butted in defensively, "I'll have you know that my grade average in college was 93%, thank you very much!"

"College? For what, Professional Whining?" Archer asked with a cocky smirk across his face.

"Hey!"

"Advanced Ass-Kissing, actually."

"Grif, stop siding with the intruder!"

"Then stop leaving the TV on the exercise channel. Those programs give me cramps just looking at them!"

"Alright, that's enough of this foolishness." Assassin walked towards Archer, signalling his wish to leave the premises.

"We were heading to the person in charge of this compound, weren't we Simmons?" Already taking note of his name, he prodded Simmons forcefully to keep moving.

"Ah- Ah! Fine I'm going! Come on Grif."

"Me? Get up? Simmons, I thought you knew me better than that."

"Grif in case you haven't noticed we have a bit of a predicament on our hands!"

"Yeah, and in case YOU haven't noticed, it's 4:30 in the morning. Which one do you think I care about more? Come back when it's a matter of life and death-"

As he spoke those words, he quickly found himself face-to-face with the tip of an unbelievably long katana. "I think you could call it that", said Assassin, as he held the blade towards Grifs throat.

"K-...Kay!" It was more a squeal of terror rather than an answer.


"Rise and shine, Buttercup!", said Sarge as he addressed the woman clad in blue and white armour upon his bedroom floor with his shotgun aimed at her petite head. "Catching those dirty blues in my sleep. Sarge, you brilliant soldier you!" As he basked in his own self-praise, the girl finally began to stir from her slumber. "Finally awake, are we? Now listen here, blue: you are now officially a hostage of the Red Army! Now I know you must be quivering in terror, but if you want to ensure your survival, you won't make any sudden movements-"

The shotgun was instantly sent flying across the room as what felt like a blade, but looked merely like a breeze of air, smashed it aside. "Who are you? Where am I? What have you done to Shirou!?"

"Now hold it right there, missy. If you think I would ever willingly disclose military secrets, even ones I don't even know, simply because you asked then you've had a few too many blows to the noggin!"

"You're bravery is commendable", said the blonde girl in a more calming manner than before, "but if you don't tell me what I want to know I will not hesitate in striking you down."

Not listening to her threat, he raised his fists in an aggressive fashion. "I take no pleasure in fighting a woman, even if it is a dirty blue. Unless you want to be on the receiving end of a Red Army Ass Kickin', listen to the commands of your captor. I order you to stand down!"

The woman, to her own surprise, lowered her arm which seemed to be grasping an invisible blade. At the same time, Sarge's wrist began to sting. "What the devil?", he inquired aloud, taking off his glove to see what was causing the sensation. Their, upon the back of his hand, glew a strange symbol of three shapes, one of which began to fade. "What sort of black voodoo magic is this?!"

"Im-... Impossible…" She continued to cast a look of utter shock towards his hand. As the symbol finished fading away, the sounds of footsteps were heard moving outside the room. The door opened, revealing Simmons and Archer, with Assassin and then a drowsy Grif behind them. "Sarge, theres one in here too? Are you alright? What's that on your hand?"

"Archer…" Saber looked to his direction. "Assassin… he's my master…" Upon hearing these words, Archer's gaze then turned to Simmons. At the same time, Assassin's gaze turned to Grif. They then looked at each other, and said the same thing.

"Son of a bitch…"

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Grif decided to break it. "So… where's Donut?"

Footsteps, as if on cue, were heard running down the hall. "Guys, you're not going to believe this! Command finally accepted my request for a slumber party buddy!" Behind him walked a tall, but thin, woman. "She even brought her own pajamas! Their a little dark and gloomy, but I'm not judgmental!"


Half an hour went by as the strangers introduced themselves. "So let me get this straight." Simmons started saying, following a detailed explanation of who the strangers were. "You guys are spirits fighting a magical war, where the winner gets a free wish from the Holy Grail, and somehow ended up here?"

"That would be correct", answered Archer, still fighting to accept the current set of circumstances.

"Do you really expect us to believe something as bizarre as that?"

"Well, let me get THIS straight." Assassin chimed in. "You guys work for two different armies, wasting billions of taxpayers' dollars over a war for a barren boxed canyon in the middle of nowhere, simply because you think your favorite color is better than the others? And you claim that WE are the bizarre ones?"

Simmons let out a depressed sigh. "Yeah… Point taken."

"Has anyone seen my… Master… anywhere?" Saber, forcing herself to call Sarge her master in this pathetic excuse for a Grail War, noticed that he had been absent from the room for quite some time.

"Grif! Simmons! Donut! New guys! Front and center on the double!" Sarge's voice could be heard from outside the base, as well as the Warthog's engine revving. "I got a bad feeling about this…", claimed Grif, as they all stood up and made their way outside.