Disclaimer: Due to the intolerable lateness of this update I'm planning on uploading another chapter for this story either this week or next, instead of turning my attention back to Transparent. Hence the rather abrupt cliffhanger we leave off on. Originally this chapter was pushing the 20k word mark.
Chapter 12- Sister Golden Hair
"What of your 'equipment' Praetor?"
With our little 'moment' complete we've started to prepare for departure. Of course, I'd completely forgotten that I'd wanted to gear up before leaving and had started for the door after managing to pry the palm of my hand from Nero's head. Hence, Nero having to remind me.
"Hmm?" I frown in thought. "Ah, you're right. I almost forgot." I make a quick trip down into the basement as Nero waits near the entrance, returning back to her within a minute.
She looks me over, noticing how I've now pulled my arms through the white jacket that'd been draped across my shoulders.
"What did you get, Praetor?"
I shrug. "Oh you know …. A little of this. A little of that." A frag grenade falls out of my sleeve as I wave aside her concerns. We both glare at the explosive as it rolls across the floor.
"Praetor." The raised eyebrow and crossed arms tells me she's not pleased.
"We're going to war, aren't we?"
She sighs. "Yes, but how do you expect to smuggle that all past the authorities as we walk through the city?"
"I have an active imagination."
"What does that mean?"
"Remember what I said about being able to do practically anything with the right imagination and enough prana? Well, that's Magecraft in a nutshell really. You just have to think outside of the box." The grenade starts folding up upon itself, like an origami figure working in reverse. Nero watches this with a critical eye, watching for anything that could potentially go wrong.
I don't blame her. I'm essentially squishing a live bomb into a smaller package. Sure, the pin hasn't been pulled, but then again this is one charged with prana we're talking about. Stability isn't something you typically associate with such concoctions.
"Praetor?"
"Yes, Madame?"
"Forgive me for doubting your 'imagination'."
"Nope."
"W-w-what?" Nero's emerald eyes swell up.
"Not gonna forgive you. You doubted my skills. That's a class A felony, goldilocks."
"How was I to know you could have done that this entire time?"
"Don't make assumptions. I could conjure up a unicorn made out of sheet metal if I wished. Did I ever tell you I could do that?"
There's a trace of awe in her eyes. I can't fathom as to why. I was kind of just tossing a random example out there that would confuse any sane individual. Ah. Key word there. 'Sane' Nero is not. 'Special' is a better description. "I would very much wish to see that in the future. But Praetor, as impressive as that is (it really isn't) it is not nearly as convenient as this is. Why did you not do this earlier?"
As an answer I toss the grenade to her. She catches it with practiced ease.
"I do not understand."
"Notice any difference?"
She turns the paper-thin explosive around, trying to discern what's different about it besides its sudden flatness.
"Allow me to elaborate." With a snap (I really just added that for dramatic flair) the grenade reforms into its former shape. "The weight. Notice anything?"
She frowns at it, continuing to rotate the object around in her hands. "I notice no … difference."
"Exactly. Being a Heroic Spirit means weight isn't a factor in your stratagem. A single fragmentation grenade doesn't weigh that much, but what if I was to try and carry dozens?"
"With them being the same weight, you would most certainly fatigue."
"That is why typically I wouldn't even bother packaging my tools." I shrug, gesturing for her to toss the grenade back to me. She does so, and it's odd to think that we just had a single round of hot potato. The frag goes back up my sleeve, disappearing from sight once again. "And that's not even to mention the extra drain on prana it costs. I have to use Alteration to reconfigure the inherent components of the object and Reinforcement to ensure it doesn't get damaged. Transmutation is sometimes necessary when Alteration doesn't cover it."
Alteration in itself is the most important part of this 'formula'. It allows me to change the base principals of an object. Something that was meant to be 'sturdy' can be shifted so it's instead considered 'flexible'. It goes without saying that this is easier to do with inanimate objects than living things. It's also much easier to do this with wood than it is with metal. If I were to try this with something that didn't fit my Element I'd probably burn my circuits out completely. Which is why it's almost completely worthless except for novelty. The only reason I'm even using it now is because the War seems to be in full effect, despite all seven Servants not yet being summoned. And I can't just sling a shotgun over my back and expect to not get stopped by police. This is Japan and not Texas (sadly).
Here's how the idea works in practice. Objects that are of a simple design (such as an M67 grenade) or things that are inherently meant to be compact and concealable work best. It's also best to keep things within the realm of reason. Folding something that's too big into a package that's too small would end in disaster. Say if I were to try and crush something like a minivan into the size of a soda can, it would be almost impossible to keep it properly functioning. Failure would potentially lead to me accidentally doing something like splitting an atom.
Haven't tested that yet (I'm not that stupid) but I really hope that's not possible. I don't need a mini-Manhattan Project going off in the palm of my hand. Japan already suffered two nukes, it doesn't need an accidental third thanks to a retard trying to fit a fridge into a thumbtack because he wants to have snacks on the go.
"Is there no way to cut corners?" It's almost as if she's reading my thoughts . . . or I just rambled aloud again. Shit.
"What? You think I'm fucking FedEx? I make sure my packages are in tiptop shape no matter what the costs."
She mulls over that for a second, probably trying to think of any alternatives that could solve our problems. Hell, she's not a complete idiot. Maybe she'll actually think of something smart that could help me . . . .
"Praetor? Could we not use this to cart around my magnificence?"
"Eh?" I don't know what she means by her 'magnificence' but I'm not liking where this train of thought's going.
"These." She points to one of the many . . . many busts situated around her mansion.
Correction, my mansion. It's definitely my mansion.
"You . . . want me to use . . . no, waste my prana on making it convenient for you to lug around goddamn statues? Statues of yourself?"
"Yes, I imagine they would do wonders for building our public relations in this area. We could hand them out as presents to strangers on our path. Granting them the pleasure of being able to gaze upon my beauty as much as their hearts desire."
"Hold that thought, I think I have the 1897 in one of these pockets. Let me see if I can pull it out. Maybe use it to blast some sense into that thick head of yours."
"Praetor, winning the hearts and minds of a populace is important."
Is she seriously using the same reasoning George W. Bush used in the Second Gulf War? The exact reasoning that was previously used by Johnson during Nam?
Boy, I wonder how well the idea worked for them.
Apparently, the utterly flabbergasted look on my face clarifies for her exactly how I view her logic. My expression is mainly conveying my belief that she's speaking utter shit and that we have no need whatsoever to wage a propaganda battle on Fuyuki.
Though now that I think about it, Nero could pull of the Tokyo Rose style pretty well . . . . No! That's a terrible idea and serves no practical purpose whatsoever. I doubt any of the other Servants would be demoralized enough by trash talk to the point that they'd surrender.
"Umu . . . ." And that's why she breaks this crap out.
"Sweet James Gandolfini, please do not start that nonsense up again. I don't care if you digivolved into your final form or not. If I hear that ridiculous onomatopoeia one more time my head will explode like the grenade up my sleeve."
"Umu . . . ." She goes full pout mode. Cranking whatever dial in her head that limits the levels of poutiness she can project all the way up to eleven.
"Is this going to be a thing now? This is totally going to be a thing. Please don't make this a thing."
She doesn't relent. We go back and forth like this for another thirty seconds. It's a perpetual state of limbo for the two of us. Her pouting and whining and me bitching and moaning. It's a winning combination all around.
Eventually, I break. What can I do? Challenge her 'umu' until the end of time? That doesn't sound productive in the slightest.
"Ok. Fine. I'll call the boys. Have them do it. We'll call it Operation Visual Pollution. Happy?" Still, I can at least sigh. Funny, I feel like this is relationship of ours is not so much a partnership as it is the daily life of an overwhelmed parent that has to capitulate to the spoiled demands of their child.
Only that neither of us have a set role in it, and we're constantly swapping off who gets to be the whiny brat.
Is this what you'd call a normal relationship?
Did I also mention that her pseudo-pouting abates instantly? Boy, I sure am surprised by that.
"That would be satisfactory, Praetor."
I'm sure it would be. Yes indeed, I am sure it would be.
"Speaking of the boys let me give them a quick follow up before we head out. Have to let them know they should babysit this place after all."
"I will wait outside. Please do not keep me waiting for too long, Praetor."
"Sure, wouldn't want to waste the 'Queen's' time, would I?"
"Emperor, Praetor. Emperor."
"Whatever floats your boat, Your Highness." With that she departs. Showing herself out by walking straight out the front door. Good, this means I don't have to worry about her overhearing the contents of the call. I'm hoping it'll be a 'normal' one, but you can never be too sure when talking to Kaz. He might let something slip. Something not safe for work.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Oi, what the hell are you doing calling me so soon? The boys said you wouldn't stop by for a while?"
"I just missed you so much I couldn't help but call you early, Kaz."
"Listen, I'm in the bathroom. I was trying to take a shi–!" This. This is exactly what I was afraid of having to listen to.
"Ever hear the phrase 'too much information'?"
"I figured your micromanaging ass would enjoy hearing it. You're gone for years without a peep and already you start calling me up willy nilly every other day."
"I can see you're still upset about that."
And this is where I apparently open up an entire can of worms.
"Of course I am! I'd have no problem with this if you'd called me every other day normally, but now it's just annoying because I know you'll eventually drop off the grid and leave me out to dry. 'It's just ole Kaz' you'll say to yourself. 'Only need to call him when I want something, not to check up on if he's ok or not'. Did you know I got married while you were incognito, or whatever the hell it was you were doing? I wanted to have you be my best man. But nooooo. Instead I had to get Yagami. Yagami. His speech involved, and this is in no particular order, a shit ton of maniacal laughter, a profanity-laced tirade against that old movie company Netflix, and some vague rambling about potato chips. Motherfucking potato chips. It scared my brother-in-law so much he squealed like a desert rain frog. Have you ever heard a desert rain frog squeal? It's adorable, but makes you feel bad all the same. A man should not feel pity for his future brother-in-law during his wedding. He shouldn't feel pity for anyone but himself as he realizes the best years of his life are behind him!"
Wow. For a second I'm speechless. Clearly, Kaz's married life hasn't been the best. Poor guy. But hey, if it ends in divorce he can at least become a professional oyster diver. Why do I suggest that? Simple. This fucker can sure hold his breath for a long time. That rant lasted forty-six seconds. Hell, I'm impressed he managed to say all of that so quickly. Maybe he should be an auctioneer instead of a diver?
"Hoo boy. Remember to breathe, please. You're going to asphyxiate yourself if you keep this up."
"Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest real quick. What's up?"
And just like that the conversation's gone back to somewhat relaxed. Such is the tone in which most interaction with Kaz follows.
"I technically kidnapped a small boy. Think you can send a group of guys out here to watch him when I'm out?"
"Oh sure, not a problem. But I gotta ask; I'm not going to end up like Joe Paterno because of this, am I?" I almost have to admire his nonchalant attitude to such a request.
"Ha. No. It's not like that. He tried to kill me with my own gun."
"Oh. Why'd you let him get near your gun in the first place? Isn't that like, the one thing you should keep an eye on if you don't keep an eye on anything else?"
"I let him have it to make him look like a moron."
"Wait … doesn't that make you look like a moron? Giving him your gun and all that?"
"Just … have someone watch over him. He's in the closet–"
"Christ, you are digging yourself a hole here."
"Not like that, he's in the actual bedroom closet upstairs. And can you also have a few of the guys distribute busts of Saber around the town?"
"What."
"To make her more popular."
"Ok, but why though? Wait, 'Saber' is the chick you're hanging around now, right?"
"Yeah. She wants people to like her."
"So, let me get this straight. You disappear for years. Abandon me. And find yourself some hot foreign chick for a girlfriend?"
"You're making inaccurate assumptions here."
"You want me to waste manpower on making her approval ratings in the neighborhood increase. What are you planning? An election campaign?"
"You know, that's not a half bad idea." I muse aloud, only half-jokingly.
"Don't get any ideas. Besides, it'd be more efficient to become the de facto dictator of the city. All we'd have to do is have a coup and then hold out against the JSDF. Not impossible with the shit you can whip up."
"Too much risk, too little reward. Let's get back to Operation Visual Pollution."
". . . You . . . gave it a title?"
"Yeah."
"So, what's the 'operation' name of the babysitting gig?"
"Operation Don't Let Him Fuck Up My New Mansion."
"Bit wordy, don't you think?"
"Whatever, just do this for me and I'll see you in a bit."
"Does that mean between two and four years?"
"Pesci, what on earth is wrong with you? It was one time."
"It doesn't matter if it only happened once. Three years is a long time in someone's life! Also, why the hell is her name Saber? Shouldn't you be the 'saber'?"
Sweet Pesci, Kaz. What is wrong with you?
"Kaz?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to hang up now."
"Wait, I want you to rethink the bootleg toys idea first. I'm telling you it's genius!"
With that I hang up, completely disregarding the poor guy's sales pitch.
A few seconds later and Nero and I are making our way into town. She'd casually asked how the conversation went, and naturally I told her it went swimmingly. Operation Visual Pollution was a go, and the kid wouldn't be left to starve to death. So, I'd be appeasing both her and Child Protective Services. Hooray.
"So, remember, we need to find a doc first."
The forest surrounding the mansion is exquisite. Reminds me of something out of a cheesy Christmas movie. It's like a slice of Germany's Black Forest in Japan. Gorgeous. Just like their ham.
Now if only it didn't take so goddamn long to get through it.
Did I mention how long this was going to take? No? Well … it's a four-hour walk.
FOUR HOURS.
Safe to say I'm going to have plenty of time to chat with Nero.
Originally, she'd offered to carry me out of here. It would have been considerably faster than what we're doing now. All I had to do was sacrifice what little dignity I had left. Of course, I wasn't going to do that. I'm not that desperate. Yet.
"For your ear, yes, I understand this, Praetor." She doesn't even turn to face me when she answers, continuing to strut through the forest undergrowth as she leads me along like a lost child.
It's almost impressive how she's walking through this environment in high heels. She continues marching forth despite my assumptions that she'd trip.
"After that, let's focus on tracking down the others. I'd suggest starting with Lancer."
"Of course! We must trample that man's pride. He made a mockery of me in our last fight, and I cannot let this go unpunished!"
I sigh at her . . . enthusiasm. "Then again there's always Archer. He seemed kind of weak in comparison to the others we've met."
She frowns at me, "Praetor, did he not help us? Surely we could overlook him in favor of other opponents?"
"Don't call me Shirley. But yeah, I get what you're saying. But to be fair, he kind of tried to kill us after saving us."
"Well, did he not suffer enough afterwards?" A memory drifted through my mind. One of the Servant of the Bow, hefted about in the hulking paw of our friendly neighborhood monster. His expression, oh Pesci, his expression. I'm laughing just thinking about it.
"Praetor, I admit I am confused. What about my question was funny to you?"
I wave aside her follow up. "Heh, nothing. Just made me think of something amusing."
She doesn't respond to this, likely accepting my humorous mood for what it is and not wanting to know the finer details of my quirky mind. So, we walk in silence, continuing to make our way through the forest surrounding MY new property.
Yes. It is most definitely my property. Though . . . Nero did buy it. (With my money.) So maybe it can be partially hers.
That way she can pay the goddamn home insurance and property taxes when the time comes. And she can pay it not with my money.
"Mmm . . . ."
"Something on your mind?"
Nero's stroking her chin, like some mad genius on the verge of solving a complex algorithm. Considering how she's no Einstein, I'm a little concerned. She might burn out her brain.
"Praetor? It appears there's someone directly in front of us."
"Oh?" It's all I can say. Is that's what caused her to clam up? The potential of an assailant waiting for us directly outside of our designated safe space? Psshh. Getting ambushed is like the norm for me apparently. It's just another fucking Tuesday.
Gotta look on the bright side of things too. If they've walked this far into the forest they've been walking for eons. I probably won't have to do anything, they're likely already comatose from exhaustion.
Four hours.
FOUR HOURS.
"Sweet." And with that all anxiety within her is gone. That single word uttered in the most blasé tone imaginable. There's no need to worry. We've survived everything from Goliath to Longinus. Overwhelming strength meant nothing. Big pointy sticks meant nothing. Arrows meant nothing.
I'm not afraid. Nero has no need to be afraid. We were cockroaches. Unable of dying as long as we stood by each other.
That's what I've taken away from the past few days. Sounds stupid? Well, why don't you go ahead and survive three attempted murders and a near drowning experience in less than a week and see how you'll cope?
Am I invincible?
Most definitely not.
Am I fucking bulletproof?
Since the day I was born.
Now if only the enemy actually used bullets . . . .
But you should look on the bright side of things. We couldn't exactly beat the other Servants we've encountered so far, but they couldn't exactly beat us either. So if it's one of the three we've pissed off already, we'll be in stellar shape.
If it's not? Well, I don't think it's possible for there to be someone worse than Stickman and the Hulkster.
So, I squeeze Nero's shoulder, comforting her as we walk towards whatever's to come.
"Is it a Servant?"
She shakes her head 'no'. Wait . . . . What? It's not even a Servant and she's gone pale?! What the heck are we dealing with? A Dead Apostle?!
"Something about them seems . . . wrong, Praetor."
"Like what?"
She inhales a deep breath of air, preparing herself for the revelation to last a lifetime. "I can smell it from here! The perfume they have chosen to wear is of terrible quality!"
. . . Pardon my French s'il vous plait, but . . . are you fucking kidding me?
"Come again?"
"Yes! Praetor, can you not smell it? Perhaps it is due to my heightened senses as a Servant that I can smell it while you cannot?" She shrugs. "No matter, you shall know what I mean once we get closer."
"N-Saber?" I almost slip up and say her true name aloud. Good thing I caught myself. We're too close to a potential enemy to risk it.
"Yes, Praetor?"
"Just . . . never change."
She smiles at me, "Why would I change, Praetor? I like myself as I am now." Now she starts chuckling. "As do you, or else you would not have stayed by my side. And you did, did you not?"
So why should Nero or I fear the unknown?
The unknown should fear us.
Or continued survival is enough testimony towards this being fact.
With a sober mind and an unburdened heart, I march forth. Preparing myself for the worst but hoping for the best.
They're not a Servant, so I should be able to deal with them.
Oh, if only I knew. If only I knew.
I push aside the last branch blocking our path, and its then that I finally see who our nosey neighbor is.
Blonde hair, styled in twin-tails.
A tight red top with the symbol of the cross plastered across the chest.
Ebony boots that stretch almost entirely up her thighs.
A mini skirt. One so 'mini' that it might as well be nonexistent.
And eyes so blue they look to be mirror images of the cloudless sky above us.
This girl … she's trying to look innocent. I can tell by how she's glancing about like she's lost. Her eyes light up when she notices me. Thankfully, Nero agreed with the unspoken command to go into spirit form.
"You wouldn't happen to be the owner of this property, would you?" Her tone is bubbly and carefree. She speaks as if she's asking something completely inconsequential, as if that's the proper way to introduce oneself to a stranger.
Most would fall for the cheerful façade she's trying to pull off. They wouldn't think to look her over for weaponry. They wouldn't notice the handle of a knife peeking out beneath her skirt, or the strap this linked to that indicated she had more underneath that far too short article of clothing. They wouldn't see the edge to her composure, the barely visible tensing of her shoulders.
Most would fall for her pretty looks, locking their gaze with her own and losing sight of the bigger picture.
I'm not most.
I'm carrying several firearms on my person.
I'm a contender in a battle royal.
I cannot not notice these things. Because the last time I wasn't paying attention it almost cost us our lives.
This girl isn't a Servant. But she could be a Master. And if she is? She best hope she has a good reason for me not to kill her.
Because if she doesn't?
Well, the MAC-11 in my front pocket has a rate of fire of around a thousand rounds a minute. I don't need to explain what thirty-two rounds of .380 can do to someone hit from less than ten feet away.
The term 'Swiss cheese' comes to mind.
'Modern art' is what I'd call it.
"I suppose I am, considering I paid for it." There. Her hand inches ever so slightly closer to that knife peeking out from her skirt. In response, my hand moves closer to my hip, hovering directly above the Pico concealed by my jacket.
She blinks. As if surprised by my answer. "You're … Dante Di Prinzi?"
"The one and only." Why does she know who I am? Why does she know my name?
She sighs, the sound letting it be known to all present that she's exasperated. What the hell is with this girl? She trespasses onto my property just to ask if I'm me? Who the hell is she to ask me who I am? "Any particular reason for these questions?"
"Huh?" I appear to have been momentarily forgotten because she acts as if I've brought her back from her thoughts. "Who are you again?"
Ok that's it. I'm starting to get a little pissed off here. "Just the dude who owns the land you're trespassing on. Who the hell are you again?"
"Jeez, what's with that tone? I just wanted to make sure. You're weirder looking that I thought you'd be."
"The fuck?" I'm two seconds away from just shooting her. It doesn't help at all that Nero chooses that moment to pipe in.
She does have a point, Praetor. You do stand out.
This is coming from the girl that shows off her panties and has an 'ass window' in her dress.
Do not misunderstand. I for one take great pride in your appearance. In fact, the only thing I would suggest is changing the color pattern. Maroon would be much more fitting for you than white. Purity is not something that comes to mind when I think of you.
I'm not commenting on that. Mainly because she has a point and I don't wish to indulge her. She'll start thinking she's right more often than not, and feeding her ego is not something I think is of necessity right now.
Or . . . ever, really.
"You were supposed to be more . . . normal looking. Not plain or anything, but certainly not like someone from a cheesy crime drama. What's with that ridiculously oversized jacket? It's not even that cold out here?"
There's a limit to how much I can take from someone. It's a very strict limit. Dis the jacket? I dis you back.
"How fitting (unlike your skirt), the girl wearing a miniskirt that might as well be nonexistent is criticizing me for overdressing. With that outfit, you'd be cold in the rainforests of Brazil."
Her cheeks turn an ever so slight shade of red in response, and a guttural croaking sound starts emanating from her. Inadvertently I assume. I can't believe in good faith that any sane human on this planet would intentionally make such a sound. And she calls me the weird one.
Of course I have to press her buttons further. I want to see if I can make this damn pig squeal. Insult my jacket, will you? Prepare for the worst.
"I mean, what do you do when you have to bend over to pick something up? Are you some sort of sick pervert that gets off on flashing your panties? Or are you just so incompetent that you can't properly dress yourself?"
Something inside of her snaps. I can tell because suddenly she bows her head as if she's going to pray. But unlike the serenity you'd expect to see on the face of someone invoking God, there's nothing but malice present here. I can't even see the emotion in her eyes because of how she's concealing them with her bangs. I'm thankful that's being done, that curtain of hair is the one thing protecting me from having to face Lucifer's hatred up close.
Why do I refer to her as such?
Well because it takes her roughly 0.2 seconds to launch herself upon me. All while screaming like a banshee.
Now either she's a tomcat drunken on ecstasy and catnip or she's Satan himself come to finally claim my damned soul.
Personally, I'd prefer her being Satan. At least then she wouldn't have claws. Sadly, that's not the case. She has very long fingernails. So long that I can only scream one thing while she's trying to tear out my eyes.
"Bitch, why don't you cut your nails once in a blue moon?!" Yes, for all my talk about being able to turn her into an inefficient water pitcher with bullets I was unable to so much as move a muscle when she came down on me. Should I be held accountable for this? Am I to be considered inadequate in my response time?
No, this is not something you can blame me for. No man would be capable of properly acting if they were in my shoes. She's scarier than Kiara and only slightly behind Taiga in terms of ability to instill fear. That's an accomplishment in my opinion.
Though, it's to be expected that I don't exactly take this insane rampage lying down. While I'm initially shocked in the start of our impromptu brawl, I act quickly upon getting my bearings.
A reinforced punch is thrown, aimed straight at her solar plexus in an attempt at making her double over.
And upon throwing it I realize I've made a critical error. I didn't know she was proficient in the art of wrestling.
Just like that she takes me down to Suplex City.
In an instant, I'm on my stomach in the dirt with an unpleasant amount of weight pinning me down. It doesn't help matters that I'm still wearing that metal sheet of makeshift body armor underneath my jacket. Something that was intended to save my life is now digging uncomfortably into my abdomen. My arm is twisted in an awkward, unnatural angle behind my back, and my face is three inches away from a fire ant hill. For that I can only say 'fuck China' for bringing those demonic arthropods to the Land of the Rising Sun.
Oh, and fuck this girl that's sitting on top of my back and keeping my head into the dirt.
Fuck Nero too while we're at it. Why? Because she's chuckling to herself instead of doing anything. I guess I can partially be happy about this. If she weren't laughing I'd know for certain I was in danger. At least this means that the insane bitch that's trying to blind me with ants isn't trying to intentionally kill me. She might be unintentionally trying though.
"Anything you'd like to say?"
"Y-y-eah. What're your hourly rates?"
Ok now I'm TWO inches away from the ant colony. I can see one of the little buggers marching over towards my nose. Great, I feel like Dwayne Johnson in that shitty spin-off no one wanted.
"Not what I wanted to hear."
Is everyone in this city insane? First that Matou kid thinking he could kill me with my own gun and now this? I don't even know this girl and she thinks she can get away with wrestling me to the ground like we're in some godforsaken WWE cage match? She is definitely not John Cena, I can see her, and I am not going to get my ass handed to me by some crazy chick that walked four-hours to tackle me.
"Get the hell off of me."
"Or what? I don't appreciate being insulted by a guy that looks like he can't even dress himself."
"Are you seriously just repackaging my own insults and hurling them back at me? I'm going to sue your ass if you don't get it off of my back."
"You have an attorney? I'd sooner believe you work a steady nine to five shift."
"You have a point, but I have something better than a lawyer. There's a grenade in my left sleeve. That one you're currently pinning against my shoulder. Get off, or I detonate it."
"Impossible, you can't do that without pulling the pin."
"Why do you assume I have to use my hand to pull the pin?"
With that, she abruptly releases me, removing herself from me as gracefully as possible (given our situation) and standing up. I take note of how she purposefully makes sure to tower above me, hesitating for a good three seconds before even attempting to offer a hand in assistance.
I refuse. Taking the time to squish the ant that had scurried atop the tip of my nose, before less than gracefully lifting myself from the dirt.
My jacket is now soiled. The nice dress shirt I had on has a few buttons undone. My slacks are covered in grime. Basically, I've just had my entire look trashed in the blink of an eye. All before I even got a chance to show it off around town.
"Alright, this is where we both apologize to one another."
She crosses her arms, smirking at me as she does so. "I'm sorry you're so awful at defending yourself."
What can I do except grin like a maniac at that? "I'm sorry your piss poor relationship with your father made you such an insufferable bitch."
And that looks like it hit a nerve. Judging from the clenched fists and shaking shoulders.
"You want to go a second round?"
"As long as I get a millisecond to pull out a gun. I'm game."
Two milliseconds later and my head is shoved into a nearby tree trunk. How did she manage this? A liberal application of Reinforcement, with just a smidgen of adrenaline giving her the strength to push on despite being shot.
Did I mention I managed to draw the Pico?
Well I did. Didn't manage to fire more than maybe two rounds though. The first grazed her cheek. The second missed completely on account of her grabbing my wrists and throwing off my aim.
She also reinforced her legs, along with her arms. So she ended up being just a smidgen slower than a Servant.
Looks like I'm dealing with a pro. A pro that so happens to enjoy beating up strangers in front of their homes.
I carefully remove myself from the tree. The girl's use of prana tells me she's a Mage. Which again sets off those alarm bells saying she's probably a Master. The lack of killing intent though, tells me she's at least not trying to end me outright. If she were I'd probably just massacre her with the MAC. Some Alteration coaxes the tree to open up around my head, freeing me from the trunk entirely.
"Alright, I might have deserved that. Clearly you actually have some daddy issues." She goes so far as to crack her knuckles in response. How . . . childish. And that's saying something considering it's coming from me. "So let's go back to the apologizing thing."
"Fair enough, you first."
I can't help but blink at her in amazement. "You started this, so you go first."
"No, you're the idiot that insulted me."
"You made fun of the jacket! I'll have you know this was given to me by someone really important so I do not appreciate having some nut job trash on it!"
"You implied I was a prostitute!"
"I still think you are! Your clothes even show off a part of your backside!" It's true. She has an 'ass window' just like Nero does. I'm starting to think fashion's gone a very terrible route in the past few years. I mean, if what's trendy is copying Emperor Nero's style of all people's we're in a really shitty time period.
"What does that make you? You look like the kid sitting in the back of class that stares out the window all day! I'm convinced you're the reincarnation of one of the Columbine shooters!"
"Hey, don't you compare me to those jackoffs! My jacket's much cooler looking than theirs!"
She starts laughing for some reason. Pretty strange to say the least considering we've been yelling at each other. I can't really think of why she'd find that funny.
"Jeez, you really are Di Prinzi, aren't you?"
"How the hell do you know who I am?"
She shrugs. "The local nun."
Oh. Oooohhh. "What, is she trying to restart that cult of hers? Are you a new member or something?"
Again, she laughs, this time trying to muffle the sound by covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. "No. Nothing of the sort. I just went to her to see if she knew anything."
"About what?"
The laughter subsides, replaced with a scathing glare. "The people who broke into the Tohsaka residence downtown."
That?! That is what she's come here for?! Wait. Why did Kiara tell her I did that?! This is that little brat's fault!
"You . . . seriously came here because I went into an abandoned house?"
She shakes her head in the negative. "No, I came here because you vandalized that house."
Oh. I kind of did that, didn't I? Well, shit. "So what? Is it your house?"
"Technically it is. I've inherited ownership of it after all."
"Well then you've been terrible at maintaining it."
"I just arrived in Fuyuki City recently. I was intending on renovating it." Her eyes narrow dangerously, like a viper eyeing a juicy rat that it intended to strike. "Unfortunately, someone else beat me to it. Destroying a large portion of the upper bedroom's floor."
That was a bedroom? Someone actually slept in that spooky ritual room?
"What do you want? A formal apology?"
"No. I want you to pay for the repairs."
Say what?
"I really hope that you're joking."
She's smirking at me, goddammit she's smirking again! "No. Unless you want me to involve the local authorities I'd suggest you cough up some change."
She's extorting me? Blackmailing me? Threatening police intervention to me?
"Bwahahahaha!" I laugh. Oh boy, I laugh. I laugh the hardest I've laughed in a very long time. "Y-y-y-ou!" I have to take a deep breath to be able to even speak. "You actually think I care? I could kill you without blinking and bury your corpse in these woods. Trust me, no one's going to walk four-hours to look for you."
She doesn't so much as flinch at my death threat, not at all amused it seems. "'Trust me'," she mocks me in a faux masculine tone "they would."
"You know, if you had just shown up like a normal person and just asked I probably would have indulged you."
"Which means?"
"Instead of just trespassing, you've also assaulted me, and threatened me."
"You've done those last two as well, might I remind you."
"Yes, yes, but that's irrelevant." I sigh, upset at how ridiculous this entire encounter has been. "Now I'm not going to give you a single cent. In fact, I'm thinking about finishing off what that kid started."
"Kid?"
"Yeah. That's the best part, I'm not the main reason your crappy haunted house got trashed. This little kid broke into it first and I was only there to stop him."
She goes silent at the revelation, likely pondering the implications this would hold.
"In fact, I have him bound and gagged in my upstairs closet."
There are some moments in which you realize 'I've done fucked up'. This, this was one of those moments.
I watch as her expression itself becomes diagnosed with bipolar disorder. In just a few seconds she goes from shocked, to disgusted, to outraged, and then back to shocked. Then she starts to go through what appears to be the Kübler-Ross model, also known as the five stages of grief. It ends with her 'acceptance' being "You're joking, right?"
At this point I realize I made a terrible mistake and so I make the best chose possible in this situation. I lie. "Of course." And like all good lies she buys it because she'd rather believe a lie than the truth.
"Thank God."
No, thank me for lying to you. And thank you for believing that.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"I kind of have somewhere to be and you're taking up a lot my precious time." This line would have been a lot more impactful had I actually been wearing a wristwatch. I try to glance at my wrist as if I'm checking the time, only to stare blankly at my naked forearm. "I . . . should go. I can't say it was nice knowing you."
"What about my house?"
"What about it? You should've had insurance like I did."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. I am most definitely not. Please leave me alone."
"Not until you fix what damage you've caused."
"I didn't do jack shit, ok? Go try and bully the little kid into paying you back."
"I thought you were joking about him?"
"I was joking about him being in my closet, but he does actually exist. It shouldn't be too hard to find either. Little degenerate dyed his hair some stupid blue color."
"Well where are you going?"
"To find a doctor."
"Wow, I actually hurt you that much?"
I snort in amusement. "As if, I did some damage to my ear and I need a doc to make sure it's ok."
"Which doctor?"
That . . . causes me to draw a blank. Damn, if only I could have Kiara heal me up. Sadly, that'd be pushing our 'relationship' too far. Not only can I not put that much trust in her, there's not even a need to. Why bother owing her an even bigger debt when I can just go to someone else to have the job done? I should have asked Kaz for directions when I had a chance. It would have saved me all this trouble.
"Uh . . . the bald one with a mustache?"
"Doctor Phil?"
"Sure?" I answer, not being quick witted enough to catch the reference she's made.
She starts laughing again, covering her mouth with her hand and snickering away at my benefit. "You're either lying, or you don't even know any doctors around town."
"I don't know any that use Magecraft, ok? Happy?"
"Jeez, and to think I was going to give you the privilege of taking me on a tour."
What? Am I dealing with Nero-lite over here? Is she actually bipolar?
"I'm going to pass."
"Then how are you going to find a doctor?"
Well she's got me there. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let a random chick that assaulted me and made frivolous demands lead the way.
Praetor.
Great. Now of all times is when you choose to comment. Couldn't you have done something back there?
I was under the impression that you wanted me to stay in spirit form to avoid drawing attention.
Shit. She has a good point. I can't argue with that.
Ugh. Fine, what's up now?
What is up? The sky of course, Praetor. As well as birds, and those metal contraptions your era would call a 'plane'.
It's a figure of speech. What can I do for ya?
Well, I think it would be best to allow this girl to show us the way.
Ok, but why?
If she is a Master, we can keep a closer eye on her and monitor her actions. If she is not we can simply take advantage of her knowledge to find someone who can repair your hearing.
How can you have such amazing logic but somehow still do stupid things?
I have no idea what you mean by that, Praetor.
Forget it; I'll trust you on this one though.
I can feel the smile of gratitude over our mental connection.
You should really do that more often, Praetor. I trust you, after all.
Like I said, trust comes in stages. But if it means anything, you're one of the select few I'd trust my life with.
That mental smile widens ever further, and I can tell I've made her happy.
"Alright, fine. I'll let you lead me to a doctor."
Immediately twin-tails furiously shakes her head 'no'. "'Let you lead me'? Let's get this straight, I'm offering to help you. Even after all you've said. You should be grateful I'm so merciful."
I grumble a little, but swallow my pride nonetheless. "Alright, thanks for the assist. That good enough?"
"No way. Now I want an apology."
"Gotcha. Sorry I made fun of your style. The formfitting red top really accentuates those AA sized puppies you've got there." It's to be expected that I point at her chest without a shred of shame in me.
She reacts in an expected matter, blushing while hugging her chest tightly between her arms. I'm unsure as to what this is supposed to accomplish. Does she think I have x-ray vision and that her arms are going to stop me from seeing her bare flesh? Or is this just some instinctual self-defense mechanism to prevent me from sexually harassing her?
"Idiot! They're not that small!"
"Oh?" I can't help but press further. She's dug her own grave with this own. "Then may I ask what cup size you're rockin'? I meant what I said about that outfit complimenting your figure, I just tend to have a dull eye when it comes to guessing women's measurements."
That . . . throws her for a loop. I watch as her brain shifts gears to process the insane request I've made, all while sniggering internally. Externally I'm of course the perfect picture of stoicism, completely serious with my question and not at all trying to pull her leg.
"W-w-what?! What kind of moron asks a lady something like that?!"
Funny. Her, a lady? She's crazy if she thinks she can pass for one. One does not refer to a female pit bull as a 'lady'.
"I'm curious is all. I have an estimate in mind, but as I said I'm terrible at guessing. You're bust size is between eighty and eighty-three centimeters, correct?"
"H-h-how?!"
"Waist is rather weak. Only around fifty-five centimeters. Perhaps even closer to sixty if I'm being generous. Oh, and I'm happy to say you're going to give a healthy birthing in your future. Those hips aren't anything to write home about but eighty centimeters is perfect for–!"
I'm cut off when she grabs the collar of my shirt and starts shaking me furiously. Ah how kind of her, she's trying to wring out the dust and grime she'd gotten on my clothes with that WrestleMania stunt of hers. Maybe I was wrong about her? This obnoxious nagger might have a hidden heart of gold.
"I don't know how you have those numbers, and I don't really care! You're a sick pervert!"
I smile earnestly in response to her uproar. "Does this mean you've accepted my apology?"
Cue her trying to lynch me using my own jacket.
Five minutes later and we've come to a truce of sorts.
What does that truth entail? Well, I had to apologize to her and promise to try my best at fixing the broken floor in her new house. Notice how I got lucky enough to slip in that 'try my best' addendum? The apology went something like this, "I'm sorry for complimenting you and insulting you all at once. I know it probably confused your tiny little brain–!" Then it was immediately silence by her shouting me down.
At least I got away with not having to give a sincere apology.
She didn't offer one of her own, by the way. Or at least, she tried as little as I did in offering one. "That jacket doesn't look too bad, I guess. You'll need to clean it or else it'll stain."
It wasn't much, but it paved the road to us not trying to instantly curb stomp each other.
After that was out of the way she decided to change her initial proposal of me just coughing up extortion money for her to shut up about my destruction of her property. Instead she indirectly complimented me on my Alteration skills and suggested that if I fixed the damage I caused she wouldn't need any money.
I agreed, primarily because I managed to slip in that loophole, and because it was easier to just agree to whatever she demanded and ignore her later than it was to negotiate better terms for myself.
Really, I didn't even need to do anything with her. It was simply more convenient this way. She was clearly a Master (being a magus, contacting Kiara, etc.) so there was definitely some sort of ambush being set up. But, Saber had a point. It was a good idea to keep her close while we could. That old saying about keeping your enemies closer rings true even to this day.
I'm confused as to what her motive is in all of this. Besides the ambush angle of course. Maybe she's going to try and propose an alliance because her Servant's really weak and she learned I had the Saber class? Maybe she came here originally to assault my home but changed her mind when we ran into each other in the woods. This entire set of shenanigans I've had to put up with could be just her elaborate attempt at bullshitting her way into success.
Either that or there's some maniacal ruse set in place here and I'm walking right into her trap. If that's the case I'll just kill her. Nero can kill her Servant. And then we can laugh about how stupid twin-tails was in trying to double-cross us.
In summary, this is not how I expected my four-hour stroll through the woods to go.
"To be honest, I didn't just come here because of the Tohsaka building. There were a few other things I wanted to talk to you about."
Ah, here we go. This is the part where the villain reveals their entire secret plan to the hero. Textbook shit-tier antagonist.
"I figured. No one's crazy enough to risk entering potentially enemy territory just for that."
"Considering how you don't even have any bounded fields or defensive runes set in place I'd say an enemy would be crazier not to take advantage of your lack of preparations."
Ouch, that kind of stings. "Give me a break, I only just moved in."
"Don't you think it was a bad idea to go through a move right before the War?"
There she goes, letting it slip that she knows about the Grail War. Definitely a Master.
"Forget it, I'm getting sidetracked. I came here primarily to stop you from causing any more trouble."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, because that nun's apparently terrible at her job. I've seen what you've been up to and I have to say I'm not impressed."
I chuckle a little. "I'm so very sad to hear that. I was truly trying to impress you." The sarcasm is heavily apparent. Except to Nero.
Praetor, there is no need to try and impress her. You should be trying to impress me, after all.
That doesn't deserve a reply.
"Tsk. Did you know that almost everything you've done has been recorded? There are CCTV cameras everywhere in this city."
"Yeah, I know. Kiara's job is to wipe them."
"Then she's terrible at her job. I had to do it for her."
Now that, that is a terrifying thought.
"That's included in her list of tasks as the overseer. She's supposed to cover up any evidence."
"I don't think she knew about the cameras. Either that or she didn't know how to wipe them. From what I can tell she got that job through pure nepotism."
Well, looks like I'm going to have to sack Rome. "They had to give her some sort of training."
"I don't think they even gave her on the job training. She's not exactly technologically literate."
"Hey, that's not her fault." I can't help but defend her. The Church itself is one of the more innovative organizations as far as their willingness to evolve through mundane means. I've heard of them using robotic augmentation to improve the qualities of their members. But Kiara isn't exactly a full-fledged member herself. She's not even Catholic. She lacks the resources of the Church itself and apparently only has a position in their ranks because one of the higher members took a fancy to her.
Shit, I hope nothing actually came of that 'fancy'. I'll really have to sack Rome if that's the case.
This is a girl that spent the majority of her life ostracized from humanity as a whole. She didn't even know what a television was until I showed one to her. To blame her for not knowing about the 'Big Brother' elements of Fuyuki would be unfair.
Hell, I forgot about them myself after living here for so long and subconsciously just assumed someone else would take care of it. Damn, I've apparently relied a lot of Kiara handling things from the shadows to the point that I've forgotten her own limitations.
What else have I overlooked? I need to step up my game. Should have had Kaz double check everything. His strong suit isn't in tech, it's in managing the social network of our organization, but he'd definitely have been able to find someone that could do it for him.
Only problem being I don't want to rely on him too much. It'd be burdensome to him.
No point in crying over spilled milk though. I'll just have to proceed from here.
"No, it's pretty much her fault. She's just a fake nun."
Hmm? A 'fake nun'? It's true in a way, I suppose.
"I suppose I should thank you then. Sincerely, that is."
"Huh?" She stops in her tracks, caught off guard by the more serious tone in my words.
"I appreciate your help in this, Miss . . . ?"
She smiles good-naturedly at me, though I can't really tell if it's genuine or not. "Boy, what's with the sudden shift in mood? I'm trying to tell you how stupid you've been and now you're choosing to take things seriously?" A sigh escapes her lips, and all of a sudden I'm getting a front row seat to her attempt at impersonating my trademarked facepalm.
Yes, I say trademarked, I've used that gesture enough in the past few days that my forehead feels cold when I'm not.
"My name is Rin. Rin Emiya."
AN: Ladies and gentlemen this has been quite certainly a long time in the making. There's a few reasons for this, the main one being I've found myself to be terrible at writing Rin (any Rin, really) and seriously lacking when it comes to having more than two characters speaking at once. So you might notice Nero's unnaturally quiet during this chapter and that Rin might be a little OOC. Though I trust it becomes more apparent why that's the case once you get to my godawful cliffhanger lol. I never went into much detail on this in the original story (GEGE) but I have some big plans for this Rin. A few answers as to who she could be. We learn in Extra that she's not the Rin Tohsaka in Stay Night but rather a relative. I've taken that and rolled with it. Also, as I mentioned in the disclaimer, I plan on another chapter being out in the very near future. Partially as an apology for my tardiness and partially as an apology for this godawful cliffhanger (I'm terrible at ending chapters properly XD). Be sure to look forward to that!
Now, onto the reviews!
LilMate: 'U' . . . Wot M8? ;D
Gundam-Knight-Chris: Sorry but this will most likely not happen. Can't completely follow the tired ecchi cliches after all! There won't be anything 'unintentional' about it XD. Dante takes responsibility for his actions!
xanothos: Tis a Phantasm greater than Ea itself. An anti-Reality one that destroys any ill will the target could hold. None can fight the Power of Cuteness. Not even the mighty King of Heroes!
Tomster627: Damn straight! I don't even think Angra Maiyu himself could deny Nero's moe.
Anthem of the Night: I don't want to spoil too much BUT the timeline here is way, way different than Stay Night. So unfortunately Rin won't be able to comment on any similarities between Arturia and Nero ): Though I can safely Sporus (castrated boy) and some of the darker aspects of Nero's past that Nasu didn't directly comment on are going to be brought up. Most of it was explained as being propaganda devised against Nero after her death . . . but I'm going to go ahead and say "Maybe some of it had a grain of truth" and run with that story. I'm happy about the emotional roller coaster you rode while reading the previous chapter. It's what I was totally going for when whipping it up. Updating conveniently during Nerofest was just an added bonus!
Darebear the bear: It's great to hear I've been doing ok with their relationship. I've been trying to balance it out so as not to make it progress too slowly or too quickly. Now, as for the potential of Kiara having a Servant, I have some ideas as to how that would go. If Nero's daughter (whichever one used) is summoned as a Ruler well . . . we'd need a similar setup as the Apocrypha war, no? Imagine if Dante succeeded in creating a sort of faction through alliances with other Masters. The Harweys are entering this already with a faction of their own so it would be fair in that respect. What it might do is bog down the Grail War to the point that the Grail decided to summon a Ruler to break the truce. Kiara could take advantage of this and all of a sudden we have a situation that can go numerous ways. Nero being used as a summoning catalyst does sound promising too (though I'd prefer her being able to interact with her daughter). This Strike Cannon weapon does indeed have some potential. I was toying with the idea of Dante using Magecraft to create fantasy weapons from other universes (hence the reference to the Mini-nuke launcher) but I'm not sure it'd be well received. I was also thinking about him replicating Black Barrel or perhaps Barrel Replica (which the Church itself replicated from Black Barrel) though again that might give him too much power. That one-shot idea could be pretty neat too, though I'd have to see if more people want larger stories involving Dante as a Master/Servant in a particular setting or if they'd prefer seeing how he'd react to almost every Servant that exists. Have a great day yourself (even though I'm like two and a half months late XD) and thanks for the review!
King Keith: 'Arturia got nothing on Nero' them's fighting words, mister! Too be honest I was actually leaning towards him being an outsider like Jeanne in F/A, siding heavily with him being summoned as an Avenger through a glitch in the Grail. Though he can just as easily replace either Archer or Assassin of Black (him and either of those Masters would be an interesting duo). Archer of Red is another possibility (though I kind of want him to screw with Atalanta) but I'd say it's impossible for him to be Assassin of Red or a Caster on either side because of how the plot goes. Him being summoned by Ryuunosuke as a Caster though . . . yeah boi. Vlad in F/A would confuse the hell out of him after his interactions with Vlad from Extra lol and I can imagine he'd empty his bank account to try and get Nero only to be furious when Nero Bride and Swimsuit Nero show up with their 1% drop rates XD.
SilvestormXD: Glad you liked it!
King0fP0wers: Yup, Dante is essentially a more benevolent less dickish Senator Armstrong in how he originally planned to do things. Except he incorrectly thought he could end war through causing it to proliferate throughout the world. Essentially burning out humanity's desire to continue to fight out of fear of the consequences. "If no one is weak than no one is oppressed." is pretty much his beginning worldview. In using the old metaphor involving sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs Dante believed that there weren't enough sheepdogs (police, soldiers, heroes) around to protect the sheep (innocent) from the wolves (criminals, tyrants, etc.) so he declared "I'm going to give all these sheep assault rifles then there won't be any wolves!" There's also some similarity between Twice H. Pieceman's ideals and Dante's I'd like to think. Both are extremely flawed in their own ways. As for his Origin, it would indeed allow him to be a great musician, artist, etc. if he chose that path. He would have probably had the best chance out of anyone at discovering the origin of humanity. If he hadn't gone the whole "I'm going to give away free AKs" route I'd imagine he would have been a really influential guy in the Clock Tower. Sadly his personality just clashes too much with that lifestyle. He'd probably be important for a year or two before getting assassinated after insulting some Lord to his face XD. PS: I'm totally stealing Diarmuid-Guest and Apocrypha-Guest from now on XD and I love that there's actually a discussion going on between everyone about this. It's awesome! I've also planned out the 'end' to a potential Dante and Diarmuid team (I tend to think of how things would end and work from there). Ironically it would end right where Lancer dies in canon Zero except it'd be overall better for everyone involved.
TheTrueOverlordBear: Can I just say I'm blown away by the level of praise you've given me? Seriously. It's amazing. I really hope I don't disappoint you in a future update down the line lol. I can't say if making it to Nasuverse levels of complexity is a good thing or not though, considering the Nasuverse is so ridiculously convoluted it would take days of research to fully understand it (Nasu has a really admirable imagination). If I ever get that determined I'm probably going to be way out of my league :P. But I definitely appreciate the kind words. It's awesome that you placed Dante in the same category as GArcher. I originally designed Dante as a joke character meant to be in a crackish fic and I never expected people to actually like reading about him. You'll notice though that while he hasn't gone quite the "f**k the community" route he's still way less altruistic than Shirou. Really his goal now is almost exactly the same as Kiritsugu's when he entered the Great Fire. "I want to save someone. I want to do one good thing in my life." Except Kiritsugu went through his entire life knowingly committing evil whereas Dante unintentionally did starting out. His dream is to save Fuyuki but it's in the same vein his dream to make everyone in the world their own hero is. Dante's so cynical he's willing to settle on that dream. He'd willingly sacrifice himself and let Fuyuki burn without his help if it meant saving Nero or someone that's shown him decency. Not quite the "protecting just family and friends" idea but almost to that because of how pessimistic he is in viewing his abilities. It's almost sadder. Instead of going full GArcher and giving up he's half-assed his goals to the point where "just don't let the world get any worse" is his best case scenario. I completely get what you mean by fanservice too. I dislike that so much I've made a point of Dante calling it out when he sees it (you'll see that this chapter). I don't want to go into everything here (it'd be easily an extra thousand words of filler lol) but feel free to PM me if you have any other questions, comments, or concerns. Or just go ahead and leave a review, that works too. Have a good day too :D!
Apocrypha-Guest: I already have a base idea on how this would go. It might tie in some elements of Fate/Strange Fake, the biggest being the American mage organization. Dante could be sent to represent their interests (maybe as a member, maybe as an expendable asset) and also potentially copy the schematics of the Grail so it could be replicated properly in America (leading to Strange Fake). The Association wouldn't know the extent this goes and he'd enter on the Red side using contacts the Americans have in the Clocktower as references. His unwillingness to trust Shirou would lead to him avoiding the fate the Master of Atalanta faced in canon. In complete honesty Karna would infuriate him. Dante's big on the 'being your own man' idea and to see someone so willing to listen to their Master without any complaint would disgust him. Something similar would happen if he were to ever encounter Shirou Emiya, though he'd give Shirou a pass because he's a kid. Karna as a legendary hero would get no such pass. Achilles would annoy him partially but I think the guy's straightforwardness would almost be endearing in some way to Dante. He'd be pissed every time Achilles wasted his breath on 'seducing' Atalanta but that'd be more of a 'this guy's a complete buffoon' and not 'this guy's a piece of crap'. Still not exactly positive, but not completely negative either. Shakespeare might see him as the protagonist, but I'm pretty sure Sieg hold that title so it might not work. I think his relationship with Atalanta would start really bad at first but soften considerable following some sort of scene where Dante gets frustrated with her to the point that he asks what her dream even is. She'd say something like "A man like you wouldn't understand." We'd get a stereotypical "Try me." And he'd respond to her dream of creating a world where every child could be raised with love by quietly saying "that's a damn fine wish" which would baffle the hell out of her.
Guest 1: Is it wrong that my first thoughts on the opening were "My God this woman sounds like she's run a marathon" the music's great (as are the visuals) but she's singing so fast she has to take these big gulps of air in between XD.
Diarmuid-Guest? (What's been done cannot be undone lol): Could you imagine if Kayneth dared to try and storm the Einzbern mansion like he did in Zero without a Servant? Kiritsugu would be waiting for Dante to show up (as Lancer's Master) only to see this mentally unhinged babbling moron that's screaming "Where is he?! That mutt that stole from me?!" Meanwhile Dante's helping Diarmuid and Arturia fight Gilles because he's so disgusted at the idea of using children that way. And imagine how the dock fight would go if Kayneth just interrupted with the monologue he did in canon? Except it'd be entirely directed at Dante and everyone would be like "Is this dude even a Master?" Kayneth would essentially be the Shinji of Schizoid Man in Zero. Except Dante wouldn't throw him a bone and would probably just ignore him completely. Dante would probably even let Diarmuid have his final showdown with Arturia without interfering. Kiritsugu on the other hand . . . not so much.
PS: Thanks for all the reviews guys! I'm fairly certain this was the most reviews I've gotten in a single chapter and it's really badass of you all to spend time commenting on this. I appreciate it!