Solenoid Flux
An Evangelion / Fate Zero Crossover
Snippet #10: The Court Unseelie

Yatsushirodai Elementary School, 02:15 PM

Steadily, black leather dress shoes clicked along the linoleum floor of an aging school hallway. Before the open entrance of the teachers' lounge, they came to a stop, and a gloved hand curtly knocked against the wooden door.

It was still hours until classes would be let out, and so only one of the faculty members was on duty within - a bespectacled young woman indicated by her nameplate to be an Itou Mayuri, busily grading math exams at a cluttered desk lined with framed photographs. At the knock, she looked up from her work with a cordial smile.

"Hello," she said. "Can I help you?"

The man standing in the doorway was slightly unshaven, dressed in a black suit and trenchcoat.

Making eye contact, he said, "My name is Tohsaka Tokiomi, and my daughter Rin is a student in class 2-A. I was told that somebody in this office would be able to help me get ahold of her. There's been a traffic accident, and my wife is about to undergo intensive surgery."

It was only after he mentioned his name that Mayuri realized that she'd met him previously on one occasion, back when his daughter had transferred in three months ago. It might have been the empty, driven look in his eyes that had thrown her off initially. He'd been far more collected at their previous encounter, and there was a genuine distraught in his overall bearing that hadn't been there before.

"Should I, er, inform Rin of the situation?" she asked, standing urgently and approaching the door.

"I'll think of a way to break it to her myself on the way to the hospital," he replied. "Just tell her that there's been a family emergency, and that I'll be waiting for her in the parking lot."

"I understand," said Mayuri. "If there's anything that the school can do to accommodate you, feel free to call us."

Solemnly, the man nodded.

"Thank you for your concern."

In the visitors' parking lot behind the school, Tohsaka Tokiomi's black Bentley Continental was nowhere to be seen.

In truth, Rin hadn't expected to find it in the first place. Mifune City was a good fifteen kilometers away from Fuyuki, and it was doubtful that her father would spare the time to personally drive the distance while the War was still ongoing, emergency or not.

Was it one of her father's enemies, then? She thought that she might have caught a faint reaction from her compass a bit earlier, right before Ms. Itou had come to collect her - but the device had since fallen silent, and her suspicions were left unconfirmed. Surely an enemy that intended her harm would be employing magecraft of a detectable magnitude, though?

As a magus, Rin's skills were as yet unpolished, but she knew that in the event a true threat presented itself, there wasn't any use in becoming flustered. Preservation of an analytical calm could lend even a complete amateur a chance of prevailing against the most difficult of odds. As heiress to the House Tohsaka, it was her duty to respond to all challenges with composure and elegance.

"I know you're here," she said, gripping the gemstone keychain she carried in her pocket in case of emergencies. "Unless you think that an elementary school student could defeat you in straight fight, you might as well show yourself."

Magi carried themselves with a degree of pride. It was an inherent part of the culture - and no dedicated practitioner of thaumaturgy would let pass an insult to the fruits of their labor. If she could just get the enemy to expose themselves, there was a chance that she'd contribute to her father's victory in the War ...

Were Rin's opponent the sort of magus she imagined, the tactic that she chose might have provoked precisely the anticipated response, for good or for ill.

The man she faced, however, was not possessed of the typical hubris of the thaumaturgical academia. The sin that shaped his every action was the serpent called necessity, and in the miracles that he wrought, he found no ontological worth or beauty. Even the unique mystery that had engraven his epithet in the whispers of magi everywhere was to his mind but yet another tool, to be used or discarded as the situation called - and a young child untrained in any form of combat was hardly a situation that required magecraft to be brought to bear.

It was thus that Tohsaka Rin's prudent monitoring of her golden compass yielded no warning whatsoever as her assailant made his move. With a soft discharge of compressed air from somewhere across the lot, a tranquilizer dart containing a low dosage of incapacitating agent was suddenly planted in the girl's neck; and unceremoniously, she collapsed to the pavement.

Holstering his weapon beneath his trenchcoat, a man emerged from behind a parked van and brought a mobile phone to his ear, expressionlessly gazing downward as he walked over to the girl's prone form.

"The target has been apprehended at Route C," said Emiya Kiritsugu. "I leave the cleanup at your discretion."

UN-AEC Fuyuki, 02:37 PM

The skills of those who served the Committee could not be compared along a single dimension. Each agent fulfilled a sufficiently distinct function that there was no great meaning in assigning scores of general capability across the board. But fit of credential was only one qualifier for selection; and in the end, factors such as personal history or prospective role in the Committee's plans were accounted for in task assignment.

For all of her considerable talent, Ikari Yui was not the best and the brightest to have taken to the field of Metaphysical Biology - and strictly speaking it wasn't actually her discipline of expertise. Why, then, had she been the one summoned to lead the Fuyuki Response Team?

The issue had plagued her since her orders had arrived. It was obvious that she was being put through an examination of a sort, but there was nothing about the assignment itself that suggested a compelling justification for her involvement specifically - and it was uncharacteristic of the Committee to issue a straightforward assessment of competence without personalization.

Things hadn't begun to add up until an automobile-mounted camera that she'd set up to monitor the first procurement site had registered the face of a phantom from her most painful of memories.

The Magus, he was called - a mercenary and assassin known for his ability to bypass the best of security precautions, as if by magic. On an overcast, rainy afternoon nine years ago, her father had begged him for mercy on her behalf, kneeling on the muddy pavement besides the burning wreckage of their sedan. As she looked on, paralyzed in fear, the tall, dark stranger had fired his pistol, splattering the contents of her father's skull across the street.

Slowly approaching her then, he'd looked into her eyes and said, "Forget what you've seen here."

But there was no way she could forget the emptiness of his gaze; the gleam of the flames along barrel of his pistol. Etched at the core of her being, the figure of the Magus had a some point become to her the embodiment of all the sins in the world - and her participation in the Grand Work was purposed ultimately to forge a kinder reality in which such men could never come into existence.

For her ideals, no sacrifice was too large.

The Chairman knew all of this, of course. Yui could sense his hand in the tailoring of the scenario she now faced - a subtle accounting for her idiosyncrasies - and that alone hinted vaguely at the objectives she was presumably expected to fulfill. Kiel Lorenz had, after nine long years, presented to her her father's executioner on a silver platter, and he would be evaluating her every reaction in context of task performance. In very simple terms, it was a test of character.

'The question is,' she thought, swiping her ID through an elevator card-reader, 'what sort of response does he deem acceptable?'

In the course of her training, Irisviel von Einzbern had been taught that anything attainable by way of magecraft was definitionally possible in its absence. She'd long accepted this as a fundamental postulate of her practice, but not without a certain unvoiced skepticism. As far as she had known, the non-thaumaturgical sciences had never replicated even the most basic staples of magecraft - the direct reshaping of solids via transmutation, for example. The claim at face value was rather difficult to accept.

Her skepticism, however, was now in the past tense.

The hexagonal chamber that she had awoken within was about the size of a small auditorium, with surfaces of bare cement and a mirrored observation window on one of the walls - a bit like an operation theater that Kiritsugu had once shown her a photograph of. Its original purpose was difficult to discern, but aside from the portable outhouse and the two beds that she and the still-unconscious Saber respectively occupied, the corners of the space had been furnished with a series of machines connected to plexiglass vessels. Suspended within in orange fluid, twitching, eyeless fetuses linked by the hinds of their skulls to thick black cables continuously generated a resonance within the environmental mana.

There was no prana being converted or released; and no attempt was being made to utilize the reverberation to achieve any sort of coherent magecraft - but by some principle beyond Irisviel's immediate area of familiarity, spell invocation within the room was blocked by what appeared to be a purely mechanical action. It felt as if the mystery of Alchemy itself was out of reach.

Tastelessness of instrumentation aside, as a bounded field formulation, it approached genius - and as far as Irisviel could tell, it had been achieved without so much as a basis in formalcraft.

Hours of fruitless experimentation had yielded only the conclusion that she would be unable to escape under her own power; and it had occurred to her that even if she did, the katana-wielding Servant that had captured her in the first place was presumably lying in wait somewhere beyond the walls. Saber, who might've been able to brute-force an exit, was still unconscious from prana deprivation, and the resonance seemed to be interfering with her recovery as well.

With such resources at their disposal, why had the enemy chosen merely to incapacitate?

"It's called jamming, if that's what you're wondering," said a feminine voice from a speaker installed near the observation window. "If a broadcast is rendered unrecognizable due to static, it can't very well be used to trigger a response, no?"

There was a person standing in the window, which had become transparent - a smiling young woman wearing a white laboratory coat, standing before a microphone.

"I have to apologize for the state of your accommodations," she continued. "We'll have something more comfortable set up for you in the staff dormitories soon, so please bear with us for the moment."

The window was only eight or ten meters away, but with the bounded field in place, Irisviel found her senses incapable of reading anything meaningful about the girl's presence. Going by mannerism, however, there was a distinct mismatch with what Irisviel had expected of the enemy Master. Kiritsugu had reminded her time after time that judgments with tactical consequences shouldn't be drawn from appearances alone - but it was difficult for Irisviel to mentally connect the girl's general bearing with authorship of her and Saber's current circumstances. Perhaps she was an assistant? She looked like she could hardly be out of gymnasium.

"What is it that you want with us?" asked Irisviel, thinking to keep things straightforward.

"A number of things that can wait until later," replied the girl. "For now, I just need a bit of information from you, regarding the man that arrived at the scene of our engagement shortly after we retrieved you. Japanese, maybe thirty-five to forty years of age - a bit unshaven? We have reason to believe that he's an acquaintance of yours."

Kiritsugu. She was looking for Kiritsugu.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to be a bit more specific than that," replied Irisviel, carefully schooling her tone and expression. "There are a number of people fitting that general description who might have a reason to come looking for me, and I'm not on particularly familiar terms with all of them."

The girl's smile dropped a bit.

"There's no need to be so guarded, Miss," she said. "Despite what you may believe, I'm not your enemy, and you have my word that it isn't my intention to harm or otherwise inconvenience you or your friend. I really must have this information, though, and I would appreciate it immensely if you could help me."

"My answer hasn't changed," said Irisviel.

The girl sighed.

"I'll be back to check up on you every few hours, to see to your meals and so forth," she said. "If you remember anything of use - even if it's just a nickname, or part of a contact number - please mention it."

The girl gave her a nod, and the window abruptly reverted to a mirrored surface, leaving Irisviel to the silence of her worries. There was no shaking the feeling of offness about the situation; and the girl - Master or assistant, or whatever she was - hadn't taken advantage of her position of obvious superiority to extract information regarding Kiritsugu. Instead, there was all of this low posturing and politeness, as if she were merely playing hostess. It didn't make any sense.

'She didn't seem very concerned about the threat that Saber potentially poses to this atelier, either,' thought Irisviel, sitting down on her bed. 'If it isn't that she's confident in the security measures they have set up, then she's absolutely certain that the Servant can neutralize us if we become a problem.'

Aloud, she whispered to herself, "There has to be something that I can do. I can't become a burden ..."

Beta-Five was waiting for Yui in the corridor, holding his helmet at his side. Seeing him, she smiled and ruffled his pale, silky hair with a hand. For all that he physically appeared a teenager, he was in many ways far from maturity.

"You shouldn't worry for me so much," she said. "So long as the Noise Blanket is active, they won't be able to harm me."

A bit reluctantly, the boy nodded his acknowledgement.

"Do you have anything to report?" she asked.

"Seven surveillance units classifying as Type:Sepias have crossed the proximity within the past three hours," he replied mechanically. "None have lingered unnecessarily, and per your orders, I have kept primarily to desynchronization. I was unnoticed."

Yui permitted herself to grin.

"It seems as if our practical trials are getting some results, then," she said. "I think we're just about ready to see how well you fare against an actual Type:Green ..."

Shinto, 04:48 PM

The signal was a directed pulse of prana, too faint to be sensed outside of its trajectory.

"The preparations are complete, my lord," said Tohsaka Tokiomi, bowing slightly.

Archer, garbed in his full armor, stepped to the corner of the rooftop and looked downwards.

"And this is what passes in this era as a residence of the nobility?" he asked. "Unsightly, Tokiomi. Truly unsightly."

"Lancer and his Master have selected the building crosswise from us as their base of operations," said Tokiomi. "It doesn't appear to be a proper atelier, but their defenses are fairly robust."

Archer sneered.

"It wasn't necessary for you to indicate the ruffian's position to me, Tokiomi," he said. "I can smell his stench from here." The air behind him began to distort, forming a fluid, golden surface. "As for these meager fortifications - they cannot withstand even the strength of a child."

From the golden surface, a silver dagger with a series of slots cut along its upper edge emerged. It wasn't a Noble Phantasm that Tokiomi was familiar with, but to his memory it roughly resembled a medieval swordbreaker. With a glare that Archer directed at the visual haze of the building's bounded field, the blade shot forth with a high-pitched shriek.

Tokiomi had expected that the weapon would tear or perhaps simply dispel the enemy's protections. He vastly underestimated the damage that would result.

Eldritch light expanded from the point at which the dagger contacted the barrier's surface, but even as its passage sounded a thunderous crash, there was no slowing of the blade's descent. It planted itself into the wall of the building's sixth floor, generating an uncharacteristically liquid ripple in the surrounding tiles and cement - the onset of the shattering, which raced across the rest of the surface. One or more of the central supports must have been damaged in the initial impact; for the seven upper floors collapsed upon themselves like a sand castle before tide, releasing a billowing cloud of dust and glass fragments into the streets below.

"By my word, Tokiomi, you are permitted to sanction the Master before the Law of the King," said the Servant, carefully scrutinizing the spreading debris. "But for the affront that the Hound has dealt, he shall be my quarry alone. It would be sagacious of you not to intervene."

Tokiomi smiled.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my lord."

ASSASSIN / Hassan-i Sabbah (The Hundred-Faced Hassan)
master: Kotomine Kirei
gender: ?
attribute: Lawful Evil
strength: C
endurance: D
agility: A
mana: C
luck: E

The 19th leader of the original order of the Hashshashin, prior to its decimation before the forces of the Khan and its subsequent reformation. The only one of those who took up the mantle of Hassan-i Sabbah without undergoing surgical modifications of the flesh, or truly attaining an assassination technique that could be considered to fall within the domain of Zabaniya.

Originally one of two candidates selected as successors to the seat of leadership, he was chosen in favor of his rival for his moderate political stance and his self-sacrificing patriotism. However, he served his people in truth only out of sheer sense of duty - and not because he himself desired it. Though he never regretted his service, near the end of his life, he loathed himself for the inhuman existence that he had become - the "Sword Drawn of Stone."

Due to the nature of his skills and abilities, the Hundred-Faced was the only Hassans permitted to retain the flesh of his face upon the succession of the mantle. However, by the time that he took the seat, he could no longer be certain that the face he wore was in fact the one he had been born with; or even that he was male by birth.

Skills:

Presence Regulation - Rank A+: Ability to freely regulate the magnitude and quality of exuded odic presence within a range of human expressions, with coverage of the pranic signatures of typical magi. Unable to replicate presences approaching divinity. The Great Grail is unable to differentiate this skill from Presence Concealment.
Drawn of Stone - Rank A+: With application of extreme concentration, the Servant is capable of skeletal and muscular manipulation to the end of assuming an impressive range of distinct builds and physiques. Utilized with make-up for purposes of infiltration. Nonequivalent to the skill "Self-Modification," as nothing is actually being altered.
Expert of Many Specializations - Rank A+: B-Rank proficiency in up to 32 different fields of expertise; a broad cross-section of academic knowledge and professional skills obtained so to plausibly assume identities of all functions and social classes. The Servant has fragmented his personality to better organize his knowledge.
Librarian of Stored Knowledge - Rank C: Photographic recollection of experiences, including information consciously unacknowledged. Requires a successful Luckroll.

Noble Phantasms:

Zabaniya (False) / Delusional Illusion
rank: B+
type: Anti-Self (Support)
range: 1
targets: 1
An inaccurate summation of the skills the Servant obtained in life, distorted by legend. Rather than permitting the alteration of his appearance and mannerisms as they originally did, the Servant's fragmented personalities are capable of attaining individual and separate existences. No longer bound by the physical limitations of the Servant's flesh, the variation of appearance from personality to personality has significantly increased. Up to 80 distinct iterations may be manifested at a given time, though some personalities are incapable of expressing themselves. Exchanges of flesh are possible with mutual consent between personalities.

Codes for Synchronization Frequencies:
Distinct from odic/pranic signatures, which are related to magnitude rather than frequency. More comparable with Servant parameter ranking, but still not a good match.

non-Typed: Background synchronization level, containing most normal humans. However, this is actually a non-zero value. Berserker in his normal state falls here. In an early coding system developed by Fuyutsuki Kouzou, this was known as "Autistic Mode."
Type:Red ~ Type:Sepia: Blanket classification containing the majority of familiars, magecraft, and human magi. Generic supernatural phenomenon.
Type:Orange ~ Type:Yellow: Unusually strong synchronization events, including High Thaumaturgy. Most Nephilim and Servants fall within this bracket. Events upwards of Orange are often considered the domain of the Super-Solenoid, but this is erroneous. As of 2015, Angels with AT-Fields that read as Type:Orange or Type:Green are considered highly irregular.
Type:Green: Unusually strong synchronization events. Typically indicative of a low-ranking Super-Solenoid event. Activation of Enuma Elish in its lowest setting is a Type:Green event.
Type:Cyan: Berserker with Mad Enhancement, or utilizing AT-Field manipulation. As of 2015, Type:Cyan is no longer considered distinct from Type:Blue, but it is theoretically a lower level of synchronization. In actuality, the Great Grail of Fuyuki falls within this category - but data concerning its activity is filtered from readings performed by the UN-AEC.
Type:Blue: The domain of the Angels. Hypothetical as of 1997. Indicative of a state in which Gaia is no longer able to recognize the synchronizer as distinct from itself, even though individuality is strongly manifest. In this state, phenomenon can be realized purely by willpower, without energy cost or sanction by any external force. Incidentally, if synchronization falls to a true zero, the individual is no longer capable of maintaining their existence as a distinct being.

Spell invocation event flow in standard Thaumaturgy:

a) Preparation: Prana collection.
b) Command Phase: Prana directed at "target" spell by circuits; chants/invocation/rituals utilized as psychological focuses for specifically formatted prana exertion toward the target.
c) Registration Phase: Registering or recognition of prana exertion pattern within Thaumaturgical System (which has no distinct physical location, as it is part of the World itself; however, it is carved into the World by a physically extant Grand Ritual known as a Foundation.) System accepts payment of prana. Details of phenomenon deployment locale are usually included within the communication between spellcaster and System.
d) Execution Phase: Submitted prana is utilized by the System to assert phenomenon against the resistance provided by the Counter Force.

Technically speaking, the "Registration Phase" occurs in a higher order of reality that is the domain of souls. However, this is a domain that environmental mana exists in, overlapping with physical reality in at least part of its coordinates; disturbances in environmental mana can have an influence on spell recognition.

Secondarily, a construct whose existence is maintained by any sort of thaumaturgy is ultimately tied to the System, which identifies the location of phenomenon deployment and asserts the effect there. Entities such as Servants are less "objects" and more "phenomenon," even if they bear the ability to independently maintain their substantiation on a limited level; if the System (in this case, the Great Grail) that backs them up is unable to recognize their existence, then various processes and functions can no longer operate as normal.

Very few magi are capable of executing magecraft without the support of a Thaumaturgical System external to their own existence. Of course, those who possess a Reality Marble may find it easier ...

End Snippet.
Draft: Jan 11th 2011