Three shots rang out in impossibly fast rapport., almost as if they had been shot from three separate guns in the same instant. Lancer only barely dodged, a bullet carving a gouging groove against his armor and shearing off a bit of hair. They were under attack and had been caught off guard. A distinct disadvantage, but nothing insurmountable.

Diarmuid and Sola-Ui, their conversation disrupted by the sudden gunshots, turned their eyes to the surroundings: the empty warehouse district, dusty dirt ground and sparse vegetation all around but no else in sight.

"Diarmuid! Behind you!" Sola-ui called and her Servant reacted instinctively, sidestepping whatever threat was behind him and swinging his spear in a wide arc. There was only a cloud of smoke and a long, gleaming knife floating ominously out of it. Lancer thrust Gae Buidhe into the cloud in hopes of crippling the enemy but there was nothing there in the miasma, as quick as it came, it dissipated along with the knife and for a moment Diarmuid thought that he saw the silhouette of a man engulfed in the smoke.

"Stay on guard, Master. Our opponent seems to be of the dishonorable sort." Diarmuid hated enemies like that. He had fought Caster yesterday, and that fight had put a bad taste in his mouth. Even with he and Saber joining forces for a brief while that night, they had been unable to defeat Caster because of the man's strange, dishonorable powers.

"Show yourself so that I may know the face of the man I kill." Diarmuid called out to the world with all the confidence he could muster and winced a little as Sola-ui ran to his side, clinging to him. She really was growing quite irksome…

Three more gunshots. But these Lancer blocked easily with his spears now that he was on guard.

"It seems that it was a mistake to aim for you first, Lancer." A man's voice, smooth and accented, said from the direction of the warehouse where the injured Kayneth, Diarmuid's former Master, lay in convalescence. "First your Master. Then his fiancee. Then you. My order was quite mistaken…" The voice trailed off and Lancer sprinted forward, ignoring Sola-ui's calls to wait. His honor was on the line. Although he wasn't particularly fond of his old Master, he had promised his loyalty and spear to the man and to let him be murdered just like that would be highly amiss.

He barreled through the warehouse doors, not bothering to take time to open them, breaking them off their sliding rollers as he rushed to Kayneth's side. But it was too late. His Master lay on the small cot with a puddle of red already spilling to the floor, slicking the hard concrete with slippery blood.

'Damn!' Lancer knew he was defeated. Whoever his opponent was, he had played him for a fool. Kayneth had been killed before the initial attack, and the threat and merely been a ruse to pull Diarmuid from Sola-ui's side.

Halfway out of the warehouse doors, Lancer heard a gasp, muffled by the distance and knew that it was over. Sola-ui was likely dead… Then the tinkling sounds of a woman's laughter convinced him otherwise.

"Mistress!" Lancer came upon an unexpected scene. His master speaking with a strange man, whom he assumed was the mystery shooter and killer of Kayneth. "Stay away from him! It may be another Servant!" He sprinted to Sola-ui's side and pushed a safe distance away, holding his spears, ready to defend.

"Calm down." The man put out a cigarette with the heel of his shoe and played idly with his strange knife. "I'm not here to fight."

"You killed my Master, of course you're here to fight. I don't know why you haven't attacked Mistress yet, but I won't let you hurt her. She's my Master's fiancee and my ally," he snarled and turned his head briefly to the red haired woman that he was charged with protecting. "Give the order, Mistress, and you'll have this man's head."

The woman, with a lovestruck expression on her face, smiling slightly shook her head in the negative. "There's no need for that, Lancer. He's explained everything and is now our ally."

Diarmuid's expression turned outraged. How could she be so callous? Her fiance had just been murdered, strapped to a bed, without a chance to even fight back.

"I never loved Kayneth. Our families set up the marriage without even asking for my consent… but I love you, Diarmuid." Sola-ui's voice was soppy with emotion and Lancer flinched at the word, that four letter word that put more pain in his heart than any spear or arrow or bullet ever could. Love. The thing that Diarmuid could never truly have. What good was love when it was forced upon him, coerced from every woman who looked upon him by that damned spot on his face?

"This is Assassin. We're going to ally with him until this War is over."

"Even more of a reason not to trust him. A man such as he thrives on lies and ambiguities. He'll betray us at his first convenience." Diarmuid clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on his spears. "Mistress, he could have killed us tonight! Don't give him a chance to get away! Let me kill him."

She seemed to consider it for a moment but quickly shook her head. "Diarmuid… as much as I want to listen to you; Assassin has given us a perfect offer." Sola-ui gestured at Assassin. "We," she said pointing towards Diarmuid and herself, "don't have reason to win the War. That was my Kayneth's goal, but it is not mine. And you, my love, you said yourself that the only reason you want to fight is to show your abilities as a knight. You can do that. We can be together; forever. We don't need a Grail, do we? We already have each other…"

"If that's your wish, Mistress…" He wanted so badly to disobey, but it seemed that Sola-ui had her mind set. "But why do we need to ally ourselves with this man? Isn't it unnecessary if you no longer wish to participate in this War?" It didn't sit well with Lancer that Sola-ui was so enamoured with himself. That attraction was making her act rashly. There was simply too much danger in leaving Assassin alive, no matter what he had promised.

Assassin lit another cigarette and interjected. "You still have your duel with Saber, do you not? And Berserker, I believe is another opponent that you have not defeated yet. Does your honor not call for you to finish those battles?"

Annoyingly, Assassin was correct. Diarmuid could not imagine leaving the duel between he and Saber unfinished, and Berserker had impuned on the sanctity of that duel. He would also need to be defeated.

"And what about you? Why would you come here tonight? What sort of deal did you and my Master make?"

"We have mutual enemies. The mediator may have called for battle to cease until Caster is defeated, but I believe that Berserker is by far the most dangerous Servant in the War. I am proposing an alliance until the monster can be taken out. You can have your duel with Saber afterwards, and should you win, I promise you that you will be free to leave. No other Servant will make moves against you, this I swear."

"You would have me fight your battles for you. You're a coward…"

"Pragmatic is a more accurate term, I believe. You said that you merely wish to prove your bravery and chivalry. This deal that your Mistress and I have made will satisfy every party. Berserker will be defeated, you will get your duel with Saber, and Sola-ui will be free to do what she wishes."

"And what do you get out of this?"

"I'm not arrogant as to believe that I can defeat Berserker. It's better that one of the more combat heavy classes deal with that Brute."

Lancer looked uneasily towards his smiling Mistress. She still had two Command Spells left, and he wouldn't put it past her to abuse them in a way to bend his affection towards her. But he sighed and bowed his head. He had no say in the matter. Heroic Spirit he may have been, he was still just a knight, and his honor dictated that he obey Sola-ui's wishes.

The deal was done.

When Valentine entered the familiar space of Tokiomi's office, he noticed that for the first time the man had a shaken expression on his face. There rested a large wooden box on the desk in front of Tokiomi, and Valentine could only guess to as what was inside. He felt an odd twinge in his heart and wondered why he had been called so early in the morning.

"It seems that you haven't been entirely honest with me Valentine." Tokiomi's voice was quiet. "You've been hiding something."

'He must have discovered the alliances I made with Saber and Rider. What a bother.' He thought. It wasn't anything incredible or detrimental, but he'd likely have to make concessions to Tokiomi now and placate the man—

"What is your goal, Valentine? Why are you really here?"

"I told you before, to make my country the greatest it could possibly be."

Tokiomi stood and raged, bringing his hands to the table in a loud bang. "You're lying! I saw it all in the dreams… the link between Servant and Master. A connection of mind and destiny. I know what you want." He finished with a shudder and opened the case and peered in, contents only visible to himself.

"I hardly think this is a worthy issue for you to be worrying about. I care not if you doubt my motivations."

The room was silent for a moment, but only a moment. The hinges of the old, wooden case creaked as Tokiomi opened the box fully.

"What are these… things?" Tokiomi asked with a whispered tone. "They've been in the Tohsaka family for generations now, and I haven't a clue at what the purpose is. They're magical artifacts of course, and I've always assumed that they were to be used in the summoning ritual for a Servant." His voice lilted upwards in a sharp change of pitch as he regained composure.

"They're the remains of a human being, as you can plainly see." Valentine hid his excitement even as a series of powerful chills ran down his spine. The feeling of ice spiders crawling over his skin. His breath hitched and he began to sweat. In the box was a Rib Cage, two Ears, and two Legs. A third of the Saint Corpse Parts, sitting there in the box, so close and ready for his taking… "I don't suggest you use them in any summoning ritual. Do you know how your ancestor came about these Parts?"

Tokiomi shook his head and took a sip of his wine. "It's said that my great-grandfather bought them from a traveling salesman in the early twentieth century, but I wouldn't know for sure," he stared into Valentine's blue eyes, searching for signs of recognition that he knew would be there. "Do you know of the connection between Master and Servant, Valentine? The Grail ties our destinies together and past and present become known."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I have dreams, Valentine. Your memories, I live them out when I sleep. While much of it passes my memory just as a normal dream does; this particular image stuck with me. In your past life, you were collecting these Parts. Why?"

"They are the remains of a very important man."

Tokiomi was not satisfied and made it plain by sighing. "I can tell you don't even want the Grail. Like the Steel Ball Run you sponsored while you were president, it is another means to collect these Parts. I assume there are enough to make a full human figure?"

"Correct on both counts."

"Whose body is it?"

"Who do you think?"

But it was too terrible, wonderful, awe inspiring a thought to voice. The Corpse of The Saint. Not any Saint but the very first… The soul of God placed in a vessel of flesh and blood. The Miracle Man. The man who was said to have died for the collective sins of the world. Forgiveness for all.

Valentine stood from his seat and looked down on his Master. "I did not know that you held these Corpse Parts, and I respect that they have become a family heirloom of sorts. You may be reluctant to give them up to me—"

"You're not getting them. If they truly come from a Saint, these Parts will have magical uses that you could never know."

"Tokiomi," Valentine said threateningly. He leaned forward and pushed the lid of the case downwards, closed. "Either you can willingly give me the Corpse Parts, or I will kill you. Not only you, but your children and wife as well. Even the girl that you gave to the Matou family I will hunt and kill. There will be nothing left of your family, no legacy, no wealth, and no glory. Your family will be forgotten and I won't even give them the courtesy of burial."

Tokiomi sneered, fully confident in his victory. Even if a human could never compete with a Servant, he still had other ways of fighting back.

"You're forgetting, Valentine," he began with a smug expression on his face, "that I still have three Command Spells. A word from me and I could have you kill yourself. By the Command Spell," Tokiomi's hand lit up, runes glowing red. "I command that you will not harm my family or myself."

Valentine stayed standing and made no movement. He looked briefly dizzy while the command spell worked its magic but otherwise retained his calm and serious demeanour.

"Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap."

Valentine's words sent a chill down Tokiomi's spine. He knew his Servant had some ability to create clones of himself, but other than that, he had no idea what the Servant's limitations were. Still, the Command Spell guaranteed that Valentine could do him no harm but— Tokiomi spilled from his chair and grabbed his cane, his magical conduit. From the base, or rather from the place that the lid met the body of the wood, came a man that was not Valentine…

"Goodbye, Master. As you have commanded, I will bring no harm to you."

The man spilled to the floor all at once, disoriented and tired, and even as Tokiomi backed away in horror and Valentine left the room, the Magus realized who exactly Valentine had summoned. A familiar face, one that he saw every morning while he shaved and went about cleaning himself… Down to the smallest detail, Tokiomi Tohsaka was staring at Tokiomi Tohsaka, and in his heart of hearts felt a tugging to draw closer to his counterpart, almost as if their destinies were tied together.

"Valentine! What nonsense is this! Get back here—" As Tokiomi prepared a great gout of fire in his hand to attack, his counterpart, moaning on the ground grabbed his foot and it disappeared in a cloud of blood and cubic shapes, menger sponges. The Magus screamed and fell to the ground, his magical circuits alight with burning acid from his failed spell and the pain of contact.

There was a sickening sizzle in the room where blood from Tokiomi's stump leg met with the blood from the alternate Tokiomi's missing hand. Tiny cubes, impossible in their intricacy came into being and sparked into the air. Tokiomi flailed and made accidental contact with his counterpart, leaving a hand shaped gouge that took half of the alternate Tokiomi's head and leaving the original Magus sans hand and sans Command Spell.

The door opened again and Valentine came carrying a huge white sheet that Tokiomi blearily recognized that was from the dining room. The world was spinning, blurry, and somehow, he could feel the pain that his clone was going through, as if the exact injuries had manifested on his very soul. This was empathy beyond human understanding.

"Perhaps I won't kill your family after all; that was hardly a challenge, and you did bring me the Corpse Parts…"

Like a magician's trick, Valentine unfurled the dining cloth and covered the twitching bodies of both Tokiomi's. They were unrecognizable, and both were dead, or would be soon enough. He activated D4C once and again and body bodies disappeared, blood and any remnants all banished to an alternate world. It was almost certain now that the Tohsaka residence and all its wealth was barred to him. Risei and Kirei would almost certainly stand against him, but it didn't matter. It was worth having killed his arrogant Master.

And now, the three Corpse parts were his. The Legs, the Ribs, and the Ears… Valentine took them and they were pulled into his body, much as the heart had been absorbed so long ago. They were his now, and with the inexhaustible mana that accompanied the Corpse Parts, Valentine knew that staying materialized would not be an issue.

The Heart and Legs and Ribs and Ears; nearly half of the Parts needed to complete the Corpse were now in his possession. God and Fortune had favored him once again, chosen him as their champion. The world was in his grasp now. The other Parts were near, somewhere in this city, Valentine could feel it strongly now. All the Parts yearned to be near one another; to be complete.

The house fell slowly to the side and Grenouille cursed as he spilled the oils he had been working with, the glass bottles and perfumery equipment, his flacons and oil samples and distilling pot fell to the side and spilled their precious contents. Thankfully he had already done his work on Bottled Love for the day, and the perfume that had just been ruined was the more mundane formula for burning he had thought of. But that didn't change the fact that there was danger.

Grenouille stumbled and turned the kitchen fan on. Quickly the smell of perfume he had been working with disappeared as air was brought in from the outside world. Crisp, clean sea air tainted with the scent of decay… something was here. Something dangerous, something—

"Caster! We've got to get out of here! There's some sort of monster outside!"

Uryuu half ran half fell down the stairs, head still soapy from his interrupted shower and clothes awry, he had thrown them on quickly in his panic.

"I saw from a window! He had this big ass sword and this weird pyramid on his head!

He's chopping down the stilts that this house is standing on!" Just as Uryuu finished his panicked statement, the house lurched again and it seemed as if the entire world had been shifted, knocked out of its normal axis by a tremendous tweak from God.

"Shit, shit, shit…" Grenouille held onto the oven door to keep himself from falling to the wall. Uryuu crashed past him into a television and moaned. With a spurt of strength he would not have been capable of in his past life, Caster threw whatever he could into his pack and pulled himself to the kitchen island using drawer handles and the edges of the counter.

"Master, you need to run! Use the perfume if you have to! Find a new hideout! I'll come find you." Grenouille had Uryuu's scent memorized as he had memorized all smells he had experienced.

Grenouille heard the sound of a spritzer and the familiar smell of his most oft used perfume. His Master would be safe while he dealt with this threat. It was a strange scent, otherwordly was the only word he knew to describe it. A whiff of corruption like meat left too long in the sun or perhaps the pungent aroma of a festering wound… yes that was the way to put it. Grenouille steadied himself on the side of the kitchen island and made a lunging step toward the door to the outside. He had opened that door dozens of times before, but never at this angle with the door opening above his head rather than to his side. It was awkward and it took him two tries to fumble with the lock.

Finally he stumbled out the door and fell perhaps two dozen feet into a heap of sand, winded and panicking. The smell of terror and rot was stronger here and it was growing closer, another Servant come to kill him…

But he had the Spine, and he had his perfumes. At the very least he'd be able to escape. Perhaps he'd be able to even defeat the enemy.

A bellowing roar came from somewhere on the other side of the collapsed house and Caster scrambled onto the ruined structure. It was easier than expected, the windworn, wooden siding gave his hands and feet good traction and considering that the house lay on its side, the extrusions of the various rooms and crevices from gutters and windows made good handholds for Grenouille to climb. Soon enough he summited the house and found the monster that Uryuu had described. Eight feet of muscle and scars. The smell of human suffering, the monster wore an apron of human skin, Grenouille could tell even at this distance atop his personal mountain of wood.

Garbled, guttural noises came from the monster as it swung its sword and hacked at the house. It tried to climb up to meet Caster in combat, but its immense strength worked against it. There was no finesse, no control of strength and the wooden frame of the house broke with the Berserker's immense strength.

Tentatively Caster took out a spray bottle, the familiar smell of burning sulfur, and sprayed the air. Nothing happened. Grenouille's perfumes needed the enemy to be able to smell and understand what the perfume was to perform the more magical functions of burning or hiding or conjuring a swarm of insects to bite and sting; without the enemy's belief and understanding, the perfumes were nothing but scents. No magic to them, not even with the assistance of the Spine. He hadn't expected an enemy that had no need to breath…

The monster groaned and fell to its knees, stabbing the great knife in the ground and using its oddly webbed hands to dig. Grenouille looked on in confusion before remembering that the bodies of the girls, robbed of their scent, and the original homeowners had been buried underground by his Master. And soon enough, the beast roared triumphantly and pulled out pallid bodies, fishlike and clammy from the cold beneath the sands, and dashed them against the wooden house that had been flipped on its side.

A gruesome, smacking sound, the sound of a bare fist against thin flesh and muscle rang out in the cloudy, mid morning light of the Pyramid Head Was bludgeoning the corpses against the side of the house with such force that they burst like obscene balloons and the bones turned to pulp.

Grenouille decided that it was time to run, but somehow in the deepest, oldest part of his lizard brain, he knew that Berserker would chase him to the ends of the earth…

"Irisviel! What happened to you!" Kiritsugu had just arrived back at the Einzbern mansion. He had planned on hunting down Kayneth and removing him for good, but it seemed that someone had beat him to it… But that was a worry for another time; Irisviel's red shirt was darker than usual, almost completely clotted with old blood. There were three huge holes in her shirt, but the skin underneath was unmarred. Thank God for Avalon.

"I'm fine." Irisviel's voice was small and weak. "Ran into a bit of trouble last night while we were investigating that intruder."

Kiritsugu squinted his eyes. "How were you injured then? Wasn't Saber protecting you?"

"We split up… Saber went on her own while Maiya and I stuck together." Irisviel said the name with uncharacteristic vehemence. "She's the one who shot me."

'What?' Maiya would never have done something as rash as that.

"On accident? Or—"

"It was on purpose!" Irisviel had a strange intense look in her eye. "We were fighting against Kotomine and she faked her death! I was just about to kill the man when she told me to turn around to heal her first. She shot me! Three times! I would have died without Avalon!"

"Calm down, Iri, there's no way Maiya would…" but an evil thought arose in Kiritsugu's mind. Maiya did have a reason to want to kill Irisviel. Was simple jealousy the motivator? He quashed the thought and shook his head as if to ward it away. Maiya was completely loyal, she wouldn't betray him like this.

The homunculus stomped her foot and her voice rose to angry pitches that Kiritsugu had never heard before. "I'm not lying! I looked in her eyes while she shot me and I saw nothing but hate! She was so serious… How can you defend her? I'm your wife, aren't I? Trust me for once."

The words blew cold into Kiritsugu's heart. He had hardened it to the world in hopes of getting through the War as quickly and as efficiently as possible, but Irisviel always found a way to make him feel more human. It was a guilty feeling, a heavy emotion that hurt to carry.

"There's an explanation somewhere, Iri. Before we do anything too rash, we need to hear Maiya's side of the story. It could have been an imposter, right?"

Irisviel turned her head and said nothing. The air was full of the feeling of betrayal, and Kiritsugu knew that she had been hurt, not just by bullets, but by his words and defense of his student.

"You talk about going too far, but you blew up a hotel, didn't you? A hundred people died that night and—"

"That had nothing to do with me, and you know it. A coincidence." Kiritsugu errantly scanned over a newspaper headline; a sensationalist one trying to link the recent string of "gas leaks" to the disappearance of several young women around the city. A conspiracy theory, but one that was based in fact.

"Where's Saber? I need to talk to her."

Irisviel hung her head and pointed to a room down the corridor. "She's hurt pretty badly. I don't know if she can talk."

"Well, she has to. We need to plan our next move." He walked briskly into the room that Irisviel had pointed out, and found Saber prone on the bed. Her armor and clothing had been removed and replaced with thick bandages, turning yellow as pus seeped into them from whatever oozing injuries the Servant had sustained. If she was still convalescing from injuries sustained the last night, they must have been severe. "Saber. Are you awake?"

A croak came from the mummy on the bed.

"Iri, what happened to her?"

"I don't know. After your student shot me. I fell unconscious. Next thing I knew was Saber dragging me home. I tried my best to heal her, but she was really hurt. The best thing is to let her rest I think. Since she's a Servant, she'll heal in the next couple hours probably."

"What do you think hurt her?"

Irisviel stepped forward and caressed Arturia's hair, careful not to disturb any skin. Over half her body had been covered in burns, and the rest of it had been eaten away or chewed at by insects who left their small red hickeys on her skin. Under her skin. Inside her throat and behind her eyeballs and in her ears. Irritating blisters that popped whenever they brushed against a surface. Huge and tender, some the size of boiled eggs.

"Probably Kirei's Servant, but I'm not too sure. We don't know what he's summoned yet, do we?"

Kiritsugu sighed and allowed himself a brief moment of weakness. He leaned over and hugged his wife. He was so, so sorry that it would come to this. The things he would do to save the world…

"Was she… burned?"

"Yes, very badly. Her face," Irisviel shuddered at the memory, "it was burned all black and grey and I could see her bone."

That narrowed down the suspects quite a bit. Kiritsugu didn't exactly know all of the capabilities of the other Servants, but it was obvious that burns meant that Caster had been the one to fight Saber. The Mediator had called the War to be halted because of Caster, after all. That one had burned those people alive… but the guilt couldn't be placed squarely on the Servant. It had been Kiritsugu's plan to evacuate the residents in and around the Hyatt after all, and that had been the reason Caster had the opportunity to commit his arson in the first place. He had always wanted to be a Hero, but it seemed at times that every action he took brought more pain than good.

He wanted to save the world, but had left little Illyasviel, his own daughter, behind to be cared for by soulless, unfeeling homunculi instead of her mother and father.

"Iri?"

"Yeah?"

His facade of strong, unfeeling stoicism nearly broke at her loving, forgiving tone. How could he do this? A week or so and Irisviel would be sent to her death, and he would be the one to do it. He had already betrayed her. Adultery. And soon with death. He would repay her love and devotion with death and lies.

But it had to be done.

"Nevermind."

A knocking came at the door and by now Waver knew that it was probably the delivery man bringing another article of clothing or trinket that Rider had found. He sighed to himself, thinking of the immense strain to his personal savings that Rider had accrued. His family wasn't one of the major Magus families. No old money or great power to call upon, no great heritage of any sort. And here Rider was, summoned to fight a War, but instead playing video games…

Waver scrambled around for a pen to sign the form that the delivery man would ask him to sign and ran to the door. The Mackenzies were out for the day and it was just he and Rider in the house.

"Yeah, that package is probably for us, let me just—" It wasn't a delivery man.

"Let me in boy, I have matters to discuss with your King."

It wasn't a delivery man at all, it was that Servant from before, Archer, the President. 'Oh God,' Waver fliched backwards into the house and ran upstairs.

"Rider! Enemy Servant! Help me out man!"

A door burst off its hinges as Rider came to his Master's defense.

"Boy! Keep quiet! You made me lose a life! Now what's all this about an enemy Servant?"

Waver stumbled on the stairs and panted, pointing towards the door. "It's him! The guy from before, uh…" Waver thought for a minute, "Funny Valentine! Yeah, that's his name!"

"Well did you invite him in?"

In surprise, Waver dropped his head and hit it against the railing, rubbing it in pain. "Are you crazy? He's here to try and kill us!"

Rider shook his head, tutting disappointedly. "Do you not remember? Valentine and I have struck an alliance. He's here for a visit. He wants to talk about something."

"How do you know that?"

The burly Servant shot a confused look at Waver. "He told me over the telephone."

Waver nearly fainted.

"You're joking… right? He called you— and God knows how he got this number, or how he found out that we were staying here— and you're saying that you invited him?"

Rider shook his head slowly, as if he was talking to a child. "Yes and no. He called, and the old lady picked up the phone. She was the one to invite him here, I told her that he was a friend of ours."

He could have cried.

"What are you standing around for, boy? Bring the man in!"

Waver stood and stuttered for a moment before sighing deeply and complying. Valentine had been waiting at the doorway, with a bemused expression on his face which widened to a grin when he caught sight of Waver coming back, chastised and sullen.

"Please, come in." The young Magus said dully. "We're so excited to have you."

'Just go home!'

The President nodded and stepped inside, motioning to several suitcases outside with a bored flick of the wrist.

"You can leave those there for a while. Just show me to Iskander."

Waver nodded and led the way, finding Rider in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Waver! Where is the alcohol! It isn't right to entertain a guest without alcohol!"

"You drank it all yesterday," Waver managed to grit out. "We can go to the store later, but—"

Rider scoffed and slammed the door to the refrigerator shut. "Go buy some."

…

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I am."

"I'm not even twenty yet! You can't buy alcohol until you're twenty in Japan!"

At that Rider seemed to be genuinely lost, insulted even.

"What a backwards people. When I'm King, I'll be sure to make sure that citizens of all ages can have as much alcohol as they desire! That will be my first act!" Rider declared triumphantly. He pointed towards the door. "But for now, find some alcohol, boy. Courtesy must be obeyed before any laws made by a false king. Now go!" Rider made a shooing motion with his hand. "I'll stay and play host to your guest."

"He's your guest! And why should I have to buy booze for you with my own money? I'm already paying the bills for all those snacks and video games you want!"

Rider didn't even looked a bit ashamed, merely disappointed. "Boy, you're making yourself look bad in front of our guest…" he said sternly.

Before Waver could scream himself hoarse, Valentine interjected.

"I'll take care of food and drink, Rider. It's the least I could do."

Rider's serious expression broke into a grin. "See Waver! This is the sort of 'can-do' attitude you need! A man needs to have confidence in his own abilities."

"Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap." Valentine spoke almost musically and a silvery ghost accented in pink, slim yet muscular and sporting two huge rabbit ears appeared. "Food and wine." Valentine clapped and the ghost disappeared between his hands. "It'll be here shortly." Valentine took a seat at the small wooden table in the kitchen across from Rider. A moment later Valentine struck the tabletop lightly and the spirit reappeared, bringing with it an assortment of sandwiches and a twenty four pack of beer.

"You fool," Valentine sounded annoyed as he addressed the ghost. "I told you wine. Not beer."

Rider's uproarious laughs filled the kitchen.

"Well then, thank you for the meal, Archer!"

For a while the two Servants ate and drank, exchanging small talk about the War about their experiences in their new surroundings. Waver sat awkwardly to the side, listening in to the conversation and nibbling at a sandwich.

Finally, during a lull in the eating, Rider spoke. "As enjoyable as our meal was, Valentine; what did you wish to speak of today?"

The President coughed and looked embarrassed for a moment. "I need a place to stay…"

AN: Impressed that I updated so fast lol. Too bad I don't get many followers/reviews/etc…

Now that many of the Corpse Parts have been introduced, here's a place to track them.

Left Arm: Rin Tohsaka the Kid

Heart, Legs, Ribs, Ears: Funny Valentine the Archer

Spine: Jean-Baptiste Grenouille the Caster

Right Arm, Head, Eyes: Unknown

Casualty list-

Tokiomi Tohsaka: technical suicide

Kayneth Archibald: gunned down by Spy