Her lilac eyes met the darkness, stray tears cascaded down her face as she was staring upwards-she knew there was an unblemished chalkess ceiling above her.
Below her, around her, she felt the swaddling of her covers, soft, warm. She slowly rose, rubbing her eyes and yawning quietly. She wore chalkless linens that were loose fitting to a small degree that allowed her to be comfortable.
She stretched, feeling the brief warmth of her muscle's movement. Breathing in and out in a relaxed manner as an awakened mental state stabilized.
She moved her hands, clenching and unclenching-same as always, she thought, content.
Beneath the covers, she wriggled her toes enjoying the softness of her bedding, she smiled graciously. Looking forward at the wall directly in front of her bed she saw the bookshelf that Romani had bought her a year ago, though bare, it held four paperbacks and a single hardcover book. All classics, classics written by the likes of Murasaki Shibiku or Agatha Christie. They told her of lands far, and lands magical. Along with the dark nature that was life or the idea of love and adventure.
The hardcover had been a new addition, a collection of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales, a gift the Doctor gave her on her 16th birthday-a day before the incident…
She sighs, remembering the last few days and still having some mixed feelings over it in a way. Chaldea was never a wild place, minus the odd haywire experiment by Da Vinci, Mash was so used to the sterile halls of the only home she had ever known, having more people in it.
She brings her knees to her chest and hugs them, how much time do I have then? She wondered, knowing that it'd come sooner or later. Whether from an enemy or her own being breaking down as it was always supposed to.
But what would it matter? This was always what was supposed to happen,
I can only hope that I can be useful until that time comes, the thought brought a sliver of serenity back into her headspace. She shakes her head, just be a tool...put on a brave face and maybe you can pretend you're normal for another day,
She threw off her covers, her internal clock knowing it was still early, but late enough to get to the cafeteria before a potential rush, though the idea of rush was something Mash wished could still be a thing.
It was also a quiet time to enjoy the company of her master and continue going over materials so that he wasn't so out of his element.
It had been a few days since the incident, and Chaldea was still in a sort of wake period. A depressive weight lurked over each Chaldean, unseen but felt and thought of. When a mind wandered, it wandered to the fact that this was all that was left, and that the person next to you-wasn't there anymore.
Mash felt it every so often, she didn't have many people she regularly talked to. Ophelia had been friendly, she enjoyed her company-but Mash wouldn't say they were close. Though she did miss her friendly smile. I'm glad she made it...she thought as she made her bed to a pristine form before going for a morning freshen up.
She stepped out of the shower, and dried herself. Wiping her fair skinned body down, she dried her hair and brushed her teeth.
She put on her usual attire, grabbing it from the drawer/desk next to her bed. Sliding the sleeves to her wrist, tightening her tie, cleaning her glasses with a silk cloth-she placed them against her temples and returned the cloth to her drawer. Her eyes then drifted to the tablet sitting atop the desk.
Recalling the previous night, she had been accessing the archives of Chaldea before going to bed. Mostly news articles and editorials from a New York based publishing company called The Daily Bugle-for a reason you could probably guess already.
She had learned of some of her senpai's rogues gallery, gained some context on some of his references during the events of a few days ago. They were all extravagant from name to what they wore or were, from element/current wielding crooks of Electro, Sandman, and Hydro-Man to the more technological minded villains of Boomerang, Beetle, and the Green Goblin-the there was only a few stray articles about almost Halloween-themed criminal, his identity unknown and only appearing every few months for a large swath of time before disappearing without a trace. He was one of the only villains Peter had seemingly never taken into custody. She wondered why.
The photo features alongside the articles she read were stellar to mediocre in her opinion, the photographer being almost haphazard in the way they shot. Though each shot of Peter in his guise of Spider-Man, had no name accompanied under it to allow the reader to know who the photographer was-anonymous.
She realized more that her senpai was always one to throw himself into the fray despite the overwhelming odds of it. As seen with his fight against the criminal/mercenary, Juggernaut, who she had found had gone against the Hulk and Thor on occasion, almost fighting them to a standstill before each respective hero overpowered them eventually.
Peter had also taken down Cain Marko (his actual name), though with a few casualties. But she didn't think it was brute force, she admitted her senpai was strong-strong enough to push against her own spirit infused strength-but she didn't think he was on that level.
Maybe he figured out another way to beat him, instead of just brute force she considered.
Menace, that was the word that kept popping up when she read the editorials of John Jonah Jameson Junior. The publisher of the Bugle was to always downplay the victories of Spider-Man, or theorize of some underhanded scheme that the vigilante played a part of.
To put it bluntly, the Girl from Chaldea was not a fan of Mr. Jameson's work. It was well written, the prose was to a professional standard and just looking at his word choice told the lavender head that the man was hot-blooded for his craft even in his late fifties. But it was so, distrusting, every win Peter got, Jameson had a rebuttal, a what if, that would try to give the reader doubt.
On the flipside, she rather enjoyed the pieces by Ben Urich (though he had less articles on the spider-theme vigilante). The man's wording was as fervent as Jameson's, though he was more exact in the way he wrote. Stating the facts first, then adding on to it with his opinion. His tone was almost fatherly, sounding like he genuinely cared about his fellow man while having a warrior's blade for a tongue when he called out the corruption that had seeded itself in her senpai's home.
He wasn't like the masters of the craft, those who had most likely been recorded in the throne due to their pieces' impact on the world. But he had their passion with every word he wrote.
Mash actually found herself going off track by just searching for more of Urich's work, though she stopped herself when she had found that she had hit midnight. Tired, and brain stuffed-she had gone to sleep the previous night-only to be met with dreams of Fuyuki, Lev, the look animosity in his eyes and the vague silhouette of someone standing over her and offering her a hand, she had accepted it and she found herself with the escutcheon in hand.
The dream ended with her on the ground, somewhere she didn't recognize, the skies like a dark kaleidoscope in its nature, the landmass like twisted dark roots with red veins, overcrowded with demolished pillars. She held Peter in her hands, battered bruised, hazel eyes had rolled into the back of his skull.
She held his cold body tight, hoping her warmth would draw his heat back.
She had heard the cacophony of voices she did and did not recognize. She clenched her features, anguish coursed throughout her being. She didn't know what to do-Please….wake up...she had begged.
The only answer she received was sympathetic hmph, as someone stood over her, arms crossed and attire billowing. She looked up into a face dark, but familiar all the same-that's where the dream ended.
She didn't like the dream, but it was one she was having since she had returned from Singularity F. It never got clearer, having the same haze as when she first awoke in Chaldea after she and Peter returned.
She was glad that the fear of the dream went away minutes after. She realized where she was, that she was safe, and that she would see her master when she left her room to begin the day. She chalked it up to nerves, that she was still worried about him ending up dead due to his own procliviousness. She stamped it down, swearing to herself, a quiet yet rutilant voice heard in her mind saying she'd be there to protect him if anything were to happen.
I won't let him end up in that state again, she vowed to herself-a knock came to her door. She knew who it was, it had become routine at this point "I'm decent, Doctor,"
The door slid open "Morning Mash!" The fluffy strawberry-head of Romani greeted her with a beaming smile, holding a bag to his side that held what he used to check her health on a day to day basis. His eyes held the slight signs of sleep depravity.
"Good morning" She greeted in kind as the doctor approached her. His eyes drifted over her shoulder and to the drawer/desk, seeing the tablet. He didn't comment on it.
"Anything new? Shortness of breath, any burning?" He asked as Mash sat on her bed, the Doctor over her and aiming a small flashlight in her eyes. First the left, then the right. "Anything odd dreams recently, like something from your spirit?" he asked in a calming manner, his voice like the soft dropping of rain on concrete-something Mash had no concept of.
"I haven't felt any pain of the like '' Mash answered, the light turned once the Doctor was satisfied with his patient's optic reaction to the stimuli. "Though I have felt the occasional chill when I think about the incident" She admitted, a little ashamed knowing that those sorts of feelings would conflict with Chaldea's end goal and the original concept of what she was. She was hesitant to answer the second part of his question, the Doctor took note and continued.
"Same here, nothing wrong with that… it's going to take a bit for everyone to…" He clears his throat as he reaches for the stethoscope, "... for a lack of a better word--get back to normal, but that's neat though sour thing about people, we get past this sort of stuff" He inserts the eartips and moves the diaphragm to Mash's chest. "Breath in and out, slowly…" Mash does as he asks.
She inhales evenly.
She exhales, in a drawing manner.
Seconds pass, and Romani is satisfied with his findings. He returns the stethoscope to his bag and steps away from his patient for a moment.
Mash thought about what the Doctor said, 'We get past this sort of stuff', She looked at the middle-aged man as he was at her desk and pulled out the next item for her daily check-up. "Oh…" she uttered meekly, nerves ratcheting somewhat as she found herself going against her nature again. "... we forget them?" She asked, wondering if everyone would just get past her once the time came.
Roman turned to her with a bewildered expression, seeing the downtrodden eyes and sly frown on his patient's face-he realized his blunder. He shakes his head "Never, we just cope. That's the double-edged flaw with us sometimes-it seems like we forget, that we move on… and sometimes we do. But to forget the people we knew, their faces, their names, their voices, it can happen-I won't lie to you about that, but someone, maybe not many-will remember that they breathed air on this planet like the rest of us" He came to her and handed the lavender head a small dixie cup filled with pills along with a bottle of water. "I'm sorry about scaring you like that-hehe...early in the morning and all that," He tapped his noggin "Brains still warming up!" He jested with a familial grin.
She found some comfort in his explanation-though her nerves weren't entirely absolved. She thought of another avenue, Would I forget about Peter….would he forget about me? She brought the dixie cup to her mouth, let the capsules roll in-then drank 3/4th of the water. Is it all in vain? She wondered as she remembered the dream-the nightmare...
Groggy eyed, stomach growling-Pete lifted himself up from his makeshift worktable.
BWRING-BWRING-BWRING
He rubbed his eyes and leaned back against his seat for a moment to process where he was. White floors, white ceiling, white walls….I'm in Chaldea, he remembered as reached for his phone and silenced the alarm. The screen returned to a picture of him and Mary Jane at the Christmas Dance from 2014. He had actually managed to get a suit, grey and pinstriped. Aunt May had said it made him look mature, but it honestly made him think of his father-he wore a similar suit for his wedding. Made it feel like he was trying to fill some shoes he wasn't ready for.
MJ had worn a blue dress with a short skirt but modest all the same, no skin showing on top with the top of it being worn like a turtleneck. Long white sleeves and black gloves. She had her natural scarlet hair tied in a bun in the back with her bangs with her bangs allowed to go wild. She wore a mischievous smile, with black lipstick, that had previously stained his cheeks before the picture was taken.
The redhead had clung to him, taking his hand into hers and bringing herself close to him-chest against his side of his shoulder to make the poor brunette embarrassed to high heaven. It was a good kind of embarrassment. He remembered her warmth and his heart pounding like bongos, his face was cherry red-she would never let me live it down….miss you, love you MJ…
His eyes moved to the command seal, a sly guilt rose over him. He frowned though shook it off.
The time was 7:15, and Chaldea's Master looked at the previous night's project. A digital recorder and beakers that were either near empty with the rejected solidified extracts of the formulas elements or empty with no hint of the completed formula in them.
Beside them were twenty rectangular items, small, compact and ready to be loaded into his recently repaired web shooters.
He had scrounged the chemicals needed to make his 'patented' web formula from Da Vinci-who was more than happy to provide the supplies he needed. For a fee of course, she wanted to know my measurements… preferably by hand or from a far while he posed, nude-her eyes frigging sparkled, HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN!? Peter was quick to just shout out what his sizes were before running out of her workshop like a comedian finished with his set.
I even mentioned it to the Doc, but all he gave me was a shrug and an embarrassed 'sorry!' Much to the teen's unease. Beside that, he learned the deal with Leonardo Da Vinci-she had been a guy in life, this wasn't another King Arthur-so I didn't need to rethink History Grades five through eight. Instead she had just chosen to be summoned in the form of what she considered ideal beauty.
The Mona Lisa… Peter wasn't what you'd call a connoisseur of the arts. He could appreciate a nice painting as much as the next person-but his only real interaction with the painting was a cold day in December when he came across the Black Fox trying to make a get away from the roof of New York's Natural History Museum with it in hand when it was on tour in the states.
Black Fox got away, using his excuse of I'm old-please son, just let me go! and OH NO I'm having a heart attack. The brunette had been able to retrieve the item nonetheless-even made some cash with snaps of it. Though Jonah said he had helped the old British thief escape-which is honestly kind of true. But how was I supposed to know he was faking a heart attack?
Blunders of his career aside, he was glad to have his equipment back to working order (more or less-mask was still MIA). When the team in the Command Room eventually locates the first singularity, he'd be ready to web Louis IV, Chief Crazy Horse, and insert blank historical figure in the face with no problem.
Stretching, he pushed himself away from the makeshift work table to rise up and begin his morning routine.
Washed,
Brushed,
Dressed in the standard mystic code (the white outfit still felt restrictive to him).
The Parker Boy stowed the cartridges in his top drawer-alongside his web shooters and phone. Lastly, the recorder, he hid it under his other pairs of mystic clothes and street clothes. And after we get done today-I'll get back to testing. He thought in passing as headed for the door, a slight tingle of his spider sense told him what was waiting on the side of the threshold.
Still don't get why it does that, the door of Room 33 slid open. He tilted his head down, and gave a dry-eyed look to the bundle of fluff that sat in front of him.
"Mykyuu!" The animal barked up at him with what Pete could construe as a confident swagger, as he puffed out his white chest fur.
Small chill was sent down his spine that told him to be on his guard. He narrowed his eyes at the fluffer, who did him the same service. "Morning, Fou…" He pursed his lips, why-seriously he's no bigger than a puppy! He tried to reason. After a few days of knowing the white beast-his reactions to him had simmered to just the shadow of what they were when Peter had first faced him.
It's like he knows I get irked by him… but literally hasn't done anything but be… sarcastic? Peter, he's an animal-stop overthinking this!
"Fou fou kyuu…" The fluffer drawled almost like a laugh, almost like he knew Pete was trying to downplay him, foolishly so.
The brunette crossed his arms in a guarded manner yet territorial manor. He looked to the left and then the right to his relief he saw Mash coming down the hallway. Bonny faced as usual, with a calming smile and a wave as she noticed him. "Good morning, senpai!" He felt a tad toasty when she greeted him.
Jesus Christ Parker-cool it!
Fou left Pete's frontside to go leap to the lavender head and rest on her shoulder as the brunette left his room, door shut, to meet the girl he was mas-partnered with. "So, the same table as yesterday?" He gestured to his junior "Or do we wanna be a bit wild and eat farther from the door?" He asked, in mirthful as usual.
The girl from Chaldea tapped her lips, eyes up the ceiling in thought. "Hnn, today's schedule may allow us some free time-depends on if Da Vinci was able to get the FATE system working" Mash reasoned as they walked, passing doors and only a few staff members.
"So today could be the day we can get Casty on the payroll-cool!" Since the incident, Peter had been put into mandatory study time (usually by Da Vinci), so that he could better grasp the magecraft concepts and his role as master.
Mostly the basics, stuff the Renaissance Painter believed the science geek could grasp easier than the more complicated and metaphysical stuff.
Familiars, the venue of thaumaturgy that dealt with the creation of artificial beings that would obediently listen to their masters-Da Vinci explained that Heroic Spirits were an aspect of this-they could be made from just about anything. From wood, stone, crystals to….dead bodies. Yeah, not touching that if I use magecraft.
Alongside that, he learned that the familiar relied on its master's mana supply to stay solid. That made sense to Pete, he had fainted due to mana exertion back in Fuyuki-so he was familiar with the concept. This led to the painter explaining what a mana transfer was… if that ever happened he would go the 'blood' route because hoo boy, Aunt May would keel over if she found out about the other method. (Da Vinci assured him Chaldea's systems would cover any possible mana issues).
After that, she explained heroic spirits in general. And it was basically the same info he had received from Casty and...Olga. Moving past that, Da Vinci added a few caveats-the same spirit could be possibly summoned into one or more classes (though their personality and maybe age would shift) and you couldn't summon a divine spirit since it would kill the summoner immediately due to the amount of mana needed or the sheer skill that would necessitate such a summoning. With Chaldea's systems in place-summoning say, Odin or Ra would be impossible.
Peter was quick to point out that the Asgardians probably weren't even divine. But the picturesque brunette rolled eyes with a sly laugh-'You have so much to learn!' she had said like he was just a clueless student in her classroom, which he was.
She explained that to him that once FATE was functional, it would be possible for Peter to summon any number of heroic spirits. Though it'd be random, compared to something called gacha-something Peter had no concept of. It'd be a coin toss if they even summoned a servant or just materials spat out from the Throne. He'd need a catalyst to summon a specific spirit, something that related to spirits history or personality. A relic they had once owned, a song, favorite food or a certain emotion running through the summoner or so on that the spirit could latch on to if they agreed to be conceptualized as a servant.
Chaldea had artifacts on hand, and a long backlog of research that would grant a prospective master and inkling to what could be a sure-fire catalyst.
She went on to explain the Throne of Heroes, the (for lack of a better word) database of heroic spirits that housed their saint graphs (their souls, history, personality in its purest form) which could be called upon by Chaldea. It was odd for Peter, hearing about the Throne irked him. A shy tenseness ran up his body, that he was almost able to assuage a with comparison,
'Oh-so it's like Godpower?' A theorem by Reed Richards, explaining that certain abilities from various metahumans (Sue Richards, Johnny Storm, ec cetera) or individuals who had tools that empowered them (I.E. Nova), drew from an external source.
The picturesque Brunette kept her serene features, but with that her head tilted and her eyes narrowed. Pete didn't need a spider-sense to see he had struck a nerve. 'Ohh~~ that theory by Richards" She said with acidic sarrachirine in her voice 'Pay that so-called 'genius' and his 'ideas' no mind Peter-a real genius-a true genius would not….no nevermind that-might pop a vain if I do'
The teenage vigilante didn't push the topic, that was a bit scary, like when Aunt May found out I skipped school once or twice-scary!
One piece she added was the rule that any servant summoned would be new. Meaning, they'd just be a copy of their original-they would have no memory of anything beside their life or whatever information the Throne of Heroes gauged as being of importance for them to know for the time period they would be summoned into. So if Peter managed to summon Cu Chulainn to be on their side-he would have no idea who he or Mash were. Back to square one more or less.
Back to the present-"He most likely would be summoned in his preferred class of lancer, senpai." She pointed out.
"Meh, I'm still calling him Casty-it rolls off the tongue better than Lancer or Cu Chulainn!" He reasoned, receiving an eye roll from the fluffer.
Mash followed in turn, though there was a wry smile that he caught at the edge of her fair skinned lips. "I'll be near in case he takes offense, maybe fast enough to get there before you jump away" the lavender head teased, only receiving a cocksure whistle from her master.
"Oh, you think you're faster than me? A pro at the last second dodge? Mashu-I'm hurt!" He feigns a faint, the back of his hand pressed against his forehead.
Mash leases a snicker, filling the boy from Queen's heart with a fluttering. "I wouldn't say that, senpai!" She raised a brow at him "But our strength is comparable-maybe I am?"
Peter shakes his head with a good-hearted scoff rising from his vocal chords. "Eh, it's not a contest… but if it was-I'd win!"
"Kyuu mkyuu…" Fou groaned disparagingly.
"I agree with Fou… but in the end, what would it prove? I'm your servant. And I'm content knowing that I can be your shield, senpai!"
He avoids her lilac gaze, that beamed with appraisal. Feeling heat, he downplays it "I scratch your back, you scratch mine-let's not be so dramatic" This had been common for him over the past few days. The warmth was nice, like a nice burning kindling during a white christmas-but he knew he was in a zone he had no right being in. So he played it off.
"Of course, senpai! Though that's odd coming from a person who publicly shamed Vic-" she caught herself, secret identity, Mash! Don't let him down already "-apologies! I've been reading some articles about New York…" She bit her lip and turned away from him in sheer embarrassment.
Peter paid the slip no mind. "It happens, Mash." The door to the cafeteria opened and the place was barren as per usual. And like clockwork, Chaldeans are still not morning people. Which meant he and Mash were on time before the rush. Able to enjoy their meal leisurely.
Not that he minded being near large crowds, but he was still very much trying to find his bearings. And with what Olga had told him about the society of magecraft, before I abandoned her, they were cutthroat and who knows what they'd do if they found out someone like him was amongst their numbers.
He trusted Mash, he had to, he wanted to, needed to-her life was tied to him now. So secrets wouldn't be smart. Still weird, I'm not exactly used to having a partner. The occasional team-up, sure. Hell, he and Matt had made it routine to go on a patrol for a week or so to catch-up. But it was weird being matched with someone so close to his age. I normally work with guys who have been in business for a while. Usually grumpy or distant. The one exception being his brief team-up with Cap at JFK International when May had to go out of state with Martin Li on FEAST businesses, he was knocked out for about half of that fight. And I had to keep the bad guys alive when Doom got his screwples gathered. That was beside the point, he just found it weird being the, for lack of better word, veteran in this team (when it came to facing danger on a near daily basis).
Did that sound a tad conceited, maybe. He'd been around the block a few times, broken a few bones and left webbing on just about every street in the five boroughs. And even then, he still felt like a small fish in a big pond when he compared him to the others in the long underwear department. With Mash, he felt a frog in throat, this was still new territory. But he was glad to have her by his side to juxtapose his greenness when it came to magic stuff.
As for Roman, he liked the medic well enough. They shared similar ideologies from what he could tell-spider-sense doesn't ring near him, but someone needs to actively think about doing something lethal. That was how chalked it up most of the time when it came to accidentally running into his rogues in their civilian attire, namely Fred or Herman. But they were usually pretty down to Earth, he'd even have conversations with them after a fight every once in a while.
Then there was Leonardo-can't exactly get a beat on her, honestly. She was cordial to him, very enthusiastic about his gear or what he was working on when Peter had been desperate for materials for the past few days. But those comments….was she like that in life? I'd swear if this were a Tex Avery cartoon, she'd have been salivating. He got goosebumps. Still she's smart, no duh, so I can't discount her and she has been a help on getting up to date on the verbage so I'm not caught with my pants down like in Fuyuki. But she was too close to bad touch territory for his liking. Plus judging by her comment about Reed-she may be anti-cape. So it'd be best to keep my distance so as to not rock the boat.
Even so, he kept his identity close. Sooner or later it'd slip, he wasn't dense to that fact. But for the time being, he needed to just focus on the job at hand and if he was lucky (not normal, he knows) he could skirt by the questions about his skills. Blame the rayshift for jump starting my circuits or something, he reasoned. Or I could say I'm a mutant...yeah, sure play into conspiracy theories, Pete
"Senpai?" the shielder brought him about his thoughts, staring across from her from the other side of the table she gave him a knowing look.
He shrunk into himself, "...did I just blank out?" This wasn't unusual for him, and became a habit for him when officially started crime fighting. Usually happened at school or when he was with his friends, normally when he was trying to construe what scheme or play was on his rogues docket for that week.
She nods, though she was not beat up by it in any way. "I was asking if you were enjoying the meal"
Peter had been eating absentmindedly, in silence for a few moments. Eyes staring off to parts unknown with a thinking man's intensity. Nice one, Parker-you could at least turn it off during breakfast. "It's the most important meal of the day, that's all I can really say" He remarked in good humor,
"Mainly because you'd be irritable and/or restless if not-at least according to what I've read"
"I mean yeah, can't imagine myself being as happy-go-lucky as I usually am without something in the tank" He noticed the bemused look Mash gave him. "But believe you me, I went a day or two without it-usually because of a late patrol or I just overslept and had to eat lunch instead." He said in an almost nostalgic manner that made sick in a slim way. He didn't let it show across his face. "Trust me, it was terrible" He chuckled.
Mash could imagine it sure, him waking up and immediately putting on his mask to go out into the city. But she could only see the pictures she had seen from the archives, she would never know the feeling, the smell or what it actually looked like before her own eyes. "Possibly, senpai, possibly. You're lucky to at least to have considered it terrible….for me it will always be something distant" She had order in her life, a normal time to wake up, go to bed, eat, sleep for a certain time-repeat. Her master, he seemed to have it, but at his discretion. There was a randomness there, a tumult she knew she would never understand
He gave her a wry brow "Aw come on, don't go glorifying my crappy sleep schedule…" Though he could see where she was coming from, from what he could glimmer. His partner had a very ordered life. "... at least you don't get decked by Octopi!" He pointed out.
"Otto Octavius doesn't usually deck you, senpai. He seems to strangle you-at least that's what I got from the pictures."
"There were plenty of deckings, usually followed by me hitting the pavement or breaking a window." He squinted at her, and smiled "So you have done your research, my padawan. Impressed by many dalliances with danger?" He asked smugly.
She nodded "Yes, in fact. But I wonder why you're considered so unpopular with the Daily Bugle's publisher"
The brunette shrugs "Jonah, he's a tough guy to love, easy to hate-but not entirely." The bag of hot air had his reasons, a bit misaimed-but Pete never held anything against his currently deceased indisposed employer. The Life Foundation's Shuttle Crash had been a tragedy, and Peter couldn't blame the bemustached man's frustration with masked vigilantes. Hell, I could have ended up like that if I never found Ben's killer. "Besides, it doesn't stop me from doing what I need to do, that's pretty obvious right?"
"Obvious, yes. But slander is not good from any angle, senpai." She couldn't exactly understand where he was coming from. They look at me like I'm not even there. I'm acknowledged-but almost never… She let out a sigh.
"It's actually libel, but I see your point." He takes a bite of his meal, and swallows. "I can't change everybody who dislikes me-I just have to soldier on and hope tomorrow is a better day than yesterday. It's hard… but I'm still here." He didn't know what else to say. "The world keeps spinning"
"People move on, senpai?" She felt a welt forming
He nods "Eh, more or less-some guys are just asses about sticking to yesterday. Like Mysterio, dude could be making bank in some summer blockbuster"
"Instead he robs banks, and is usually stopped by you," She finishes. She had read four articles on the Master of Illusion, Quentin Beck. He reminded her of what some stories said Loki or Merlin were like.
"Correctomundo, I even tell him that-but does he listen? Nope."
"He sounds stubborn."
"...more or less. He went to M.I.T. and he thought a good way to get rich was to rob banks with smoke and mirrors. Points for creativity that all I can really give the Fish Bowl." He wondered-Stop, focus on the now. It's too early to go down that road, especially in front of her.
She snickers at his nonchalance, and Pete feels the kernel of safety in the moment. He only had a few confidants. It was odd being this open with someone who wasn't in his usual social group. I'm bringing her to New York when this is all said and done. Let her know for sure that there's more than a Winter Wonderland to see.
Mash had a similar reaction. A stale routine had been all she had known, there was Ophelia, who had tried to have lunch with her many times. But Mash had always been hesitant, she knew that Team A master knew what she was-but the lavender head could never get past the little voice in back of her head that told her, Tic toc-how long until she also rejects you? Peter was a breath of fresh air, someone with no baggage to the world's unfeeling nature that she had always known. When should I tell him… will he? Will he reject me?
The teens were brought out their conversation as the first of the Chaldeans began streaming through for breakfast.
This killed the open conversation to say the least.
"I'm about done, are you almost ready to head out, senpai?" Mash spoke as she picked up her tray. She looked at him, and he followed suit.
"Yup" He got up from his seat and headed for the waste chute with Mash.
Romani's second cup of joe was already half empty before the teens walked into the central command room. Looking over the previous day's reports, he peaked over the documents and greeted the servant and master duo with a casual smile. Peter could see the ghost of drowsiness below his peepers.
"Early as per usual" Romani comments, setting the documents to the side. "Which means breakfast has started and I'll be left with nothing but coffee and maybe some scrambled eggs left after the rush" He gives an exasperated sigh.
Mash and Peter looked at each other then at the Doctor "... do you want to do the briefing later?" The brunette asked with an unsure expression.
Romani shook his head "Nah, better to be ahead of schedule than to be on time… at least then I have lunch to go forward to" The New Director reasoned cooly with an edge of hesitation. "That aside" He takes drink from his mug "I'm pretty giddy about today's possibilities-"
"Starting without me, Roman?" Peter felt a cringing as he heard her voice, the door closing and the Renaissance Artist herself strolling past the teens to get in teasing distance of the Romani "I slave for days on end between teaching Peter here and my newest project and you have the audacity to not give me a heads up?"
Roman rubbed his temples "I figured you'd be fashionably late… I would have called you when it was time to actually begin the process"
She taps his nose, much to the Doctor's annoyance. "A genius has to have a flair for the dramatic my dear Roman-" She spins on her heels to the teens direction "-our heroes here need that extra X-factor to the daily routine, if it were just you leading the daily briefings they'd probably go numb from all the straight-laced answers!" She explained.
"Nothing wrong with a straight-laced answer" Peter pointed out, remembering his run-ins with Strange when Pete encountered the occasional supernatural entity or two. I mean if he's a 'demon' why did that guy drink blood and have fangs like a vampire? That's just maxing genres of horror at that point. He honestly did not like dealing with magic, it was nothing like the movies.
"Thank you, Peter!" Romani gives challenging glare to the Caster-servant. Who waves him off with a small laugh. "Anyway-due to the great effort of Da Vinci, the FATE system is back in working order"
A little jolt ran through the brunette "Neat" unsure of how to react, a shallow feeling that overcame him telling him to watch his 'step'.
"More than neat my student~~" Da Vinci sang as she crossed her arms in a wisenheimer manner that added to the tapestry of what Peter already knew about her. "Consider it a chance most people would never even dream to get, the very individuals that lead our charge as a civilization, at your beck and call, conditionally of course." She emphasized to know one if particular-though Pete noted Mash looking at a reluctant Romani.
"Thanks to Peter and Mash's success in Fuyuki-I'm certain we already have a possible candidate of who we can summon." Roman took another swig of his mug before going to a terminal and pulling up a video of Singularity F.
"You're still annoying, brat. But if I see you again, make sure I'm summoned as a lancer-" The recorded voice of the Hound of Culann requested before as he was broken down into golden particles.
"And it's a safe bet Pete can get Ireland's Hercules into our corner without the need of creating a catalyst to specifically summon him," Romani reasoned.
Peter had to slip some doubt into the Doctor's explanation "That's if we can really bank on what he said, it wouldn't even be the same guy who we teamed up with-who's to say if a copy of him will even follow-through with what the Fuyuki version of him said. I mean, we didn't exactly get on good footing when we first met-who's to say I won't rub the lancer version of him the wrong way and he goes renegade?" Fuyuki's Lancer was a tough customer-and while he didn't face Cu head on, he knew couldn't consider him a lightweight. Imagine that guy as a Lancer? Sure he probably wouldn't be able to summon Wicker Man-but he'd probably make up for it with more speed and the addition of a stabby-pokey weapon. Not a good combo for anybody on the opposite side of that!
"Cu Chulainn, as his stories went, was loyal to a fault-to those he served and to the virtues he held, senpai," Mash pointed out remembering his conflicts the Queen of Connacht, where he held true to keep her safe while under his detainning, and as those who followed her tried to kill him. Anyone else would have just killed her to stop the onslaught-but he didn't. The virtue of a knight, that resonated with the shielder "If he chose you as his master, he'd no doubt fight for you until the very end even at the cost of his own life" Mash explained, a spark of wonderment in her eyes that told the teenage vigilante that… he didn't wanna go there.
Then make sure it doesn't go there!
"And even if that's the case, using your command seals should be more than enough to make sure he, or any other ornery servant will listen to your orders," Roman added in an understanding manner. "Because I'm expecting not every servant you summon is going to agree with some methods you employ,"
Pete the back of his right hand buzz as he focused on it "I mean yeah-"
"Tut tut, don't go giving him any ideas Romani-command seals are just a simpleton's shortcut to loyalty. They may be regenerating, unlike a normal master's seals-but it would do nothing to truly ingratiate someone to our side" She explained haughtily, her features never sharpening.
"And with Da Vinci on this one Doc, I would absolutely hate the idea of losing my free will if someone I just met and disagreed with just did that-dead person or not" Though that did go with the whole master/servant deal… could the wizard's who came up with crap not think of a different wording for it?
"Very humanist of you my student~~" Da Vinci praised "Besides, his seals would be better spent if a battle is dire. Healing them, or making them be able to use their noble phantasm then and there without worry of mana consumption on their own being or himself!" Da Vinci then looked about the room "And it'd safe on our own reservoir of power"
Romani shrugs "I'm just shooting out ideas here-I agree with what you're saying…" He held his tongue, "Nevermind, point is-if you're ready Pete, once the staff is done with breakfast, we can attempt a summoning!"
"And then, once the meet and greet is done with your servant-you can enjoy another day of Learning with Da Vinci-chan~~!" The Renaissance artist motioned to herself with an actor's flair.
Yayyyy… Pete nods, holding his hesitance within.
The Summoning Room, 548 centimeters in height, and 365 centimeters wide-it shared Chaldea's signature chalky white marble for its color palette.
The middle of the room had a large circular ring carved into it, even on all ends, with symbols that the brunette had little understanding of at this point-this was the summoning circle, obviously.
Near the entrance was a station of terminals and seats for technicians trained to power and operate the summoning process so they could sit and shut it down if something went awry.
Peter Parker stood a foot or two away from the summoning circle, looking down on it with a dryness in his throat and heavy weight upon him-like a thumb on a hammer, and finger on a trigger.
A dull buzz had been creeping through his skull before he even stepped foot into the room. Like when he first met Fou, as if he needed to be careful of what could come about if he put himself into this situation. Play it smart, or be lucky enough to get by with his wits about him.
Petite fingers slid into his left hand, the dainty palm connecting to his. Soft and calming. It jolted him out of his elusive hesitance when it came to the situation from the moment he set foot on Chaldea.
He looked to the girl who held it, Mash giving him a smile that dulled the stress. Her lilac eyes tell him not to worry, and that she'd be by his side even if this backfired or they no servant came.
Costively, he met her with his own smirk. Body heating up, the girl next to him really did a number on him for some reason.
Hearts skipped a beat.
They pulled away from each other, turning their gazes away. Embarrassed-
"Sorrysorry-" Mash apologized on a dime, red as a cherry. Calm down-calm down, you were just trying to be nice!
"You'regoodyou'regood-" Peter said real quick, WHAT THE HELL PARKER!?
This went on for a few moments, the teens trying to back track the incident-to the entertainment of those at the terminal.
Aww~~ Young romance, the sensual push and pull of hormones to create one of humanity's most art worthy pieces! Da Vinci thought, admiring the routine the teen found themselves in with a few other staff members.
Romani was just happy this sort of stuff could happen to the girl he had looked over for the past few years. Wonder how long until they stop tip-toeing around it? He thought to himself, before he went over to the microphone, raising it to his lips, he spoke. "How are you doing out there?"
Peter looked over his shoulder, and gave a nervous smile and thumb combination, "Aw you know… about bringing the dead back to life, just call me Frederick Fronkensteen!" He only received a few scant snickers. Hmm...guess not everybody's a Mel Brooks aficionado.
"In any case, we're running energy through the system in a few moments-keep your mind at ease, your will strong and speak clearly about who you want to summon. If that doesn't work we'll put a catalyst together so that the power we're expanding isn't for not." He explained coolly.
He felt the watchful eye of Mash on his back. The teenage vigilante instantly recalled the moment or moments he found himself with his ser-partner. Oy...need to tell her about MJ later. Maybe that will smoothen stuff over so my heart can stop jackhammering! Or maybe he was seeing things that weren't there. You're not a lady's man-you're Peter Benjamin Parker, world-class science geek who thinks it's a good idea for your long term health to fight crime in tights! It was MJ who popped the question, while you stammered over yourself like a goon. He put himself at ease, by digging his grave of self-loathing. Still, you accepted… good on ya Pete! He would see her again or die trying!
The room hummed as the technicians ran power to meet the circle. The darkened carvings began radiating with the sheen of mana. It irritated his eyes somewhat and the hairs on the back of his nape stood tall. An early spider-sense flashed, and went away as soon as it came.
The blue shine was a soothing one to be sure, and Peter, as forerign to this side of the world as he was, could feel its excess, the possibility it promised, the doom it could reign if he wasn't the least bit careful. It feels like I'm about to gamble away my life savings. Luckily Benjamin J. Grimm had taught him a thing or two about knowing when to hold and fold them-still he was banned from poker night. First it's because I'm a minor, and then it's because they think I cheat with my spider-sense… which is only kind of true… That aside, Romani's voice rang through the air.
"Present your command seal to the circle and then… well… ask" He told in a rather mundane manner. "Hey! What the-"
A brief struggle, and Da Vinci is on the air "See that's what I'm talking about! Where's the flourish, the flair, the gravitas? He's about to bring forth a force of the ages and your tone is that of a dry salesman!" Peter hears a rebuttal from the Doctor, but the caster-servant continues on "Extend forth your arm and reach out towards the monument of humanity's peak, its heroes are yours to call so do not relent, do not bend, and prove that this era is worth saving!" She implored, sending a giddy keenness through the Brunette's being.
He lets out a hollow breath to assuage nerves, No pressure… At a moment, he looked at the arachnid-esque symbol upon his hand. He walked up to the plate, an inch before the circle. He let his gut do the motions, the tingling of something primal told him that he didn't need to do this, he credited the last remnants of his naivety for this world he had been dropped into with only the slightest bits of provocation.
Left hand clutching his right shoulder to keep it steady, it let the command seal go beyond the threshold of the circle until three-fourths of his arm was in the circle.
Nostrils flared, an intensity rose through him. He felt rather iconoclast in the moment, like he was getting away with something no one else had done. As though he was spitting in the face of something that looked down on him and getting away with it.
Okay what now… like Doc said, 'ask'. Inhaling sharply, he spoke. "Yo, name's Peter… don't know if you remember me (probably don't), but that doesn't really matter at the end of the day, does it? The world's gone, burned away by some creep in a top hat for some reason I could not tell you. And that means that your history is gone as well, everything you did in life was taken away because someone thought it'd be a good idea to say screw everyone!" An image shoots through his head, a man running, a security guard chasing and him just watching after finding he had been screwed out his earnings from the last cage match. "Cu Chulainn, all I can really say is, please help us, fight by Mash and my side so that everything… " He trailed off, "... so that everything… so that everything… so everyone goes home at night and just enjoys the fact that they got through another day and be excited for whatever the next day may bring," He had closed his eyes and lost the motion, the path. They're dead, already had their adventures… Why would they care about a world they're already lived through? The cynical side of him asked.
He opened his eyes and found that nothing had happened. He pulled his hand from the circle, he turned to Mash with a low expression and shrugged.
In the station, system effectiveness was checked. Everything was running at peak condition, not glitching or power deficiencies to be found. It was like their master candidate was being ignored. Romani looked to Peter from the station and gave an apologetic expression with a wrinkling of his nose.
He mustered a downtrodden breath, "This is supposed to be a duo sort of relationship at the end of the day" He reasoned "Guess gauging the system to give us an assist isn't really in job description" He felt a little better about that in all honesty. Sure they'd be outnumbered on an occasion, but he knew she and him would survive and strive at the end of the day. Adding more people to that might ruin the dynamic she and him were already building. "Screw the throne or whatever-at the end of the day, we'll be taking the fight to Lev" He smirked at the lavender head, confident.
Bobbing her head in agreement, she smiled sweetly "Yes, then let's continue doing that!"
Peter looked to that station and gave a thumbs up "We're good, thanks anyway guys!" and as the brunette was about make his way from the summoning circle-
He heard his request-
Blinded by the light, fluorescent and radiant with blue, golden, then kaleidoscopic particles like shards of gems in a whirlwind. The room was overwhelmed by the power front. He and Mash obscured their gazes, arms across their eyes, hearts racing.
"Holy crap!" Peter cursed.
It was gone a moment after, the room seeming darker than it was for a few moments as every single person's eyes adjusted to the regular light of the room.
Someone new had arrived,
Dressed in a reserved black manner befitting to a man of God. A gold cross hanging from his neck and silver cone-shaped earrings hanging from his tanned ears. With wild silver-white hair and a kind boyish face that could make any let their guard down around him, the tanned 169 cm young man looked about the room he had been summoned in, scrutinizing every detail before landing his amber eyes on Peter Benjamin Parker.
With a smile, he motioned to himself, "Ruler-class servant, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada at your service…" He extends his out to Peter in good nature, casually and without a hint of hostility to his nature. "... Master"
A ruler, huh? His spider-sense never flared, it did not warn him. That guy before looked familiar, maybe because he was akin to Archer, but only in appearance and May Parker didn't raise him to judge others in that sort of manner. "Never heard of you," He takes the servants hand shakes it firmly "Welcome to Chaldea-names Peter, Peter Parker"
Mash came up from beside Peter "And Mash Kyrielight, his shielder demi-servant, nice to meet you Mr. Tokisada" She greeted.
"Please, please, call me Amakusa and I look forward to bringing our world back from the brink. What man of the cloth wouldn't?" He asked in good humor, he averted his eyes from his master, a thought coming to him as he went to greet everyone else.
To think he'd become a master. That grieving boy I met all those years ago dragged into this undying hell of backstabbers and miscreants. That 'writer' would have a field-day with that sort of savage irony. But I'll make sure the path he's on is virtuous. He deserves that much for what happened…
The day had ended, and Peter found himself alone in his room as per usual after saying bye to Mash for the day.
Proceedings of the day had gone on without a hitch to say the least.
He had gotten the lowdown on his servants' history from a mixture of Da Vinci and Shirou himself since he decided to accompany Pete and Mash along during the day to get his footing around Chaldea.
Dying at the age of seventeen, executed by the reigning shogunate (military rulers of Japan during its Feudal era), he was a Japanese catholic who tried to overthrow the then-current regime with other followers of God. For his troubles, his head was put on a pike as warning to others who sought to follow through with what he had done.
It was the basic clip notes on the Shimabara Rebellion, and Pete didn't know how to take it honestly. Savage way to die, reminded him of Joan of Arc in a way-though she died more due to politics than any ideology based reasons. Though the idea of her being a heretic was thrown out during French History.
The guy was nice enough from what he could tell, cordial almost to a fault and praying before lunch and dinner when that time came around.
He offered to show him his combat prowess, but Peter waved him off at the moment. He was sure he could kick butt, but Peter needed to get his own boards battened down before he knew the ruler-servant had up his sleeve. Maybe not the smartest idea, but the brunette had just met the pseudo-priest and he figured it'd better feel out the guys' deal before figuring out how to add his skills to his and Mash's dynamic.
'Well I'm always here if you need an ear, master or need any good words to be said.' That was the last thing he said before they parted ways, The ruler taking an empty room as his for the time being.
Does he even need to sleep? Do servants sleep? He knew Mash slept, she was still human-but what did a heroic need with sleep? Maybe to conserve mana. Pete didn't know and it really wouldn't ruin his day to find out.
He doesn't match the historical description though. When he pointed that out, the pseudo-priest explained his status as a servant changed his form when being summoned and that it's not like I had myself altered, that sort of scenario is only for true saints and kings. Peter didn't know how to take that, but didn't push the issue.
He chalked up another Da Vinci-esque scenario. A servant presented themselves how they wanted, when summoned, whether it was anachronistic to their history or not. Though this didn't really follow when it came to King Arthur-nevertheless, Peter had accepted the King of Camelot as female by now. So I can be the 'um actually' guy now when I watch the Sword In The Stone. Not like that would get annoying.
Peter had asked his junior, what she thought of him, Mash gave a noncommittal answer.
'He's kind and respectful from what I've gathered. The way he died though, I'd wonder if he harbors any resentment towards the situation.'
She was basically in the same boat as Peter, it was too early to tell what the Ruler was like anyhow. He was a rebel leader in life, to the extent of say a Robin Hood or Spartacus, he had no idea. Did that mean he couldn't trust him? That was a coin toss, really.
The Ruler-class were servants that oversaw grail wars if there was no other third party to oversee it. They usually acted in the interest of the Grail itself so no lines were crossed when battles occurred. That no muggles could learn of magic, that history wouldn't be ravaged by a wish so order could be maintained.
It makes sense why he accepted my call in that case… though how I got him instead of Casty is anyone's guess.
Usually having multiple command seals for each servant that partakes in a grail war so no one decided to go maverick.
Amakusa confirmed that he had no command seals, and that he trusted his master's judgement if he were to use his. Need to make a precedent to have them not call me master, I could do that easily with a seal… no, that's not what I do. Maybe if someone was about to die, that's really the only scenario I see for myself using them to control a servant. Even then, he'd feel disgusted-that's how it is for mages right? He asked no one.
Back to the point, did he trust Amakusa, not yet. He'd test loyalty when the first singularity came, but even from this point, he didn't have a sour feeling about the Japanese Catholic. Reminds me of that priest that came to the house after my parents died. He didn't remember the man's face, or his voice, but the guy did his best to try to put the idea that Richard and Mary Parker were someplace better.
'The world is changing, someone told my brother that once and maybe someday, you can help that change-just like your parents did,' The priest had said kindly, before leaving, blessing the house and wishing Ben and May a good life.
Peter's features scrunched, breathing heavily for a few moments, good life… he didn't know, he wasn't a precog. He was only doing his job, maybe the words were hollow, but it was nice to hear someone say it in the moment I guess. His parents had been scientists, they tried to help the world, they died in a plane crash for their troubles. He palmed his forehead, glum. Why do I do this to myself?
He shakes his head, doesn't matter-I just need to focus on something else. And he had an idea for what that something else was.
Going to his drawer, he pulled out the recorder and began listening to the previous entry. That took about thirty minutes, and Peter took notes in his head about where to go next with his testing.
He clicked the recorder, it stopped. He then clicked it again to start a new recording.
"Hello, my name is Peter Parker and this is day three of why did I turn invisible and why the heck did my hands spark like I'm Electro?-sidenote, think of a shorter name!"
He had gotten the recorder from Romani, when the Doctor asked why he needed it, Peter said he always liked to keep notes on how his day was. That it was therapeutic for him, which wasn't exactly a lie. But he was more of a monologuer, not a diary writer.
In actuality, it was for him to run trials on his recently developed abilities. The first day, there was success. He couldn't shimmer or build even the slightest cling of static.
The second day fared a bit better, he'd actually managed to spark his palm after getting frustrated after thinking about losing Olga to Lev. So this led to a new hypothesis for him.
"I think they're based on strong emotions, not in the sense of a Green Lantern ring (I still don't get how you can harness will in the form of hardened light), but in the way an octopus can camouflage itself if it's in danger or when I began to disappear when I thought I was going to die when Casty brought Wicker Man out. Adding on to that, when I think about it, the only times I built up any static was when I was angry or devastated. But that might have been just a coincidence, but a rolling stone collects no moss as the saying goes,"
The initial attempts brought nothing.
Jonah ragging on him-nada,
Getting blurred shots-zilch,
Flint calling him a bug-annoying yes, but not infuriating,
The whole of Midtown seeing him in his underwear-not even close to,
Aunt May getting hitched to Doc Ock-traumatizing, but nothing phased out of existence,
When he found that superficial stuff like that wasn't breaking any ground, he decided to go darker.
"Probably not good for my mental health, but it's worth a shot!" He reasoned, pacing back and forth. Wracking his brain for something-he knew what would do it, least he thought he did.
Stan Carter's true character, The Sin-Eater. There was no fear, there was some anger. There used to be rage though-even days after Peter and Matt were able to take down the ex-SHIELD agent-turned cop.
Peter's muscles tensed, but it was a phantom of what it was. He felt more despair at this point, it had been awhile since Jean's death. And while, yes, he'd still mull over failing to protect one of his sole confidants in the NYPD and chastise himself over failing to notice the way Stan acted, the odd comments that raise eyebrows. He had still gotten the guy, put him behind bars so that he couldn't spread his gospel any more than he had.
He was bitter about the whole situation, but it only brought regret at this point. He's dead right now anyway, probably burning in Hell if he believes in it. Serves him right… a part of him cringes at the thought.
He thinks of that fateful night, after he made the wrong choice and his uncle died for it-And now I… He couldn't finish the glum thought, the guy suffered a heart attack when he realized who Spider-Man actually was. And Peter didn't know how to take it in all honesty, he wanted to kill him, make him scared, beat him until he was bloody pulp. But when he just died, Peter just felt hollow.
It was the same sort of hollow feeling he got moments before Singularity F collapsed, that all he had done, all the struggle, the pain, it had been pointless at the end of the day. He remembers the vicious look Lev gave him, his smug confidence that he'd won, he did though, everyones gone, he clenched his digits, teeth bared sorrow swelling up within.
No static came, though the wounds of the loss were there. They were healing with each day, becoming less fresh to the acrid air of reality. He knew there was a chance, he trusted Roman even though he and the rest of the Chaldean were still very much strangers to him until the truth of his nature was revealed. Not a good base to build a working relationship on, but there was Mash-yeah… Mash…
The girl who called him, senpai, she made him feel awkward in all honesty. He felt good around her, but a little voice in the back of his head told him that he was walking the edge with her. Am I really that easy? And just after I learned that everyone is… dead?
He hung out with her during the day for sure, they were partners now, master and servant… why? He still felt bitter about the result of the situation, but he couldn't blame anyone but himself. He could have done anything else to stop this, and maybe save her from that kind of fate-instead, instead I didn't act fast enough.
He hung out with her during the day, but it was only when it was strictly business-like learning with Da Vinci or having a meal. Part of him wanted to expand it, have some fun with it-maybe have a movie night or play a freaking board game… but I know I'm just tempting fate at that point. Was he being selfish?
Mash was a nice girl, and she was a friend. I'm going to tell her about Mary Jane. Maybe I'm just thinking something's there that's not-but I have to do it. It wouldn't be right if I didn't. A slimey aftertaste came to him with these thoughts. Get back on track, Park-
Spider-sense flared, fear coursed-Peter's body went see-through.
His stance went territorial, low, back straight and face forward, arms out and hands wide with his palms exposed.
Something's here! A voice told him, his voice, right? a creeping familiarity fell over the brunette, a deep unease that he hadn't felt ever, except in Fuyuki. When I saw- Eyes widened, and anything close to rational went away. Without a second thought he cut the recording and went for his stowed away webshooters.
Slapping them against his wrists in mere milliseconds, he subsequently went for the door.
Taking seconds, Peter's sprint was brief and its halt sudden as he dead stopped on all fours, his adhesion keeping him from skidding even with the speed he had sent himself running. Breathing heavily, he looked to where his own version of sixth sense led him.
The human mind told him he wasn't thinking, the other part of him agreed. But thinking would get him nowhere, thinking was a human prospect, it hindered true action.
He stood up, defensive and staring straight at the door to the cafeteria. He rubbed his forehead, wracking his temples as his spider-sense increased its intensity. Beyond that door was an enemy, who would kill him without a second thought and lord it over him. That doesn't make any sense! He tried to reign himself in, think this out, play this smart. It wouldn't submit if he played it smart!
He took a step forward, another, then another. The door opened automatically and walked in without incident and found no one about. Spider-sense still rang so he knew this sense of calm the room radiated was just a taunting facade.
His eyes darted every which way, still no one. Then the invader made himself known.
Phasing into reality, legs resting alongside the long sheet of a table booth, arms crossed confidently with a superior smile that irked Pete to no end, was the dark-skinned, white-haired and red clad archer from Fuyuki. His grey eyes probed the teen, weighing his judgement as he moved his left hand to his chin to rub it. Looking upwards, the Archer from Fuyuki considered.
He then shrugged his shoulders to let his arms rest casually, with no minute to breath, the invader spoke. "About time you showed up master-rude to keep your servant waiting, wouldn't you agree?" He smiled at him tauntingly
Peter Parker's palms sparked with rage, and without any human reasoning left-he launched himself at Archer.
Servants didn't need sleep, not in the traditional sense anyway. With a good and/or suitable ongoing supply of mana-a servant could be up on their feet 24/7. If they were low on mana, yes, they could sleep, or if they had been supplied with an overabundance of mana, they could simulate sleep. But true sleep was foreign to a servant, unless they actively wanted to sleep to attempt to dream, or to conserve their personal reservoir of magical energy
Amakusa Shirou Tokisada didn't sleep. He did not need to, Chaldea was doing well enough keeping him in his physical form without issue.
Instead the apocryphal pseudo-saint, sat on his bed. He was unsure of what to really do until daybreak. Read maybe, catch up on what changed from his last living memory. He had free reign to look up the Security Organization's archive without a hassle. But he didn't know if he wanted to jump headfirst into knowing what the world was like after his grail war, whichever one I can focus on at the moment. The thought concerned him, but maybe it was just a side effect of his summoning.
He had no recollection of leaving the throne, no servant did, besides hearing their master's voice and accepting. But Amakusa could remember a struggle, his master's voice vague, hard to make out. And even when he accepted the contract, he remembered being pulled, stuck for seemingly an eternity.
He didn't know how he had escaped, maybe it was the grace of the Lord that gave him enough strength to break through. Maybe it was the connection with his master, he didn't know.
Besides these questions, Amakusa thought the day had gone without a hitch. His master was a smart one, though of low knowledge when it came to mystery. But he didn't think less of him for it, the child had come from a normal family, seemingly. He wouldn't expect the brunette to know about magecraft even back then, but he still wondered how he got to this point.
When he asked about his master's past, Peter said Chaldea was sold as a private school, and that his aunt signed him up for it. Though neither Da Vinci or Doctor Archiman could corroborate how these circumstances came to be. Which left the former rebellion leader scratching his head.
He hated mysteries, unless he was behind the plot, he found it excruciatingly annoying being in the dark about the what and how's of a situation.
All in good time, he figured. Knowing some way, somehow, light would be shed on his master's situation. Because even with the casualness he shows, he hides something. Distrust? Maybe, he's just 'met' me so I can't fully expect him to give me his life story. The boy played it off well, whatever it was that overtook him, the end of humanity would do that to anyone I suppose.
Speaking of which, it was an odd feeling being on the other side of this situation, for a sec-fir-ond-st time. He palms his forehead with a groan, this is going to become a habit isn't it? He exhales through his teeth moving back to his previous thought. Humanity was gone, something he and his brother had both attempted but failed nonetheless. From what info he had amassed from his master, Da Vinci and that decadent-seeming Doctor, this Lev individual was behind the situation or had a hand in it.
Without any thoughts of salvation, the pseudo-saint begged to bet on. Which meant my actions back in Fuyuki-He cringes, memory overlapping, Japan or Europe, which was it? He breathes and breathes out, "Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me." Psalm 23:4 with this he regains composure, they may have just delayed the inevitable. It wasn't a thought he could agree with wholeheartedly, this wasn't the end that was to occur. A tad hypocritical, he admitted, but this situation may have been a way to pay his dues in the eyes of above, in more ways than one.
His eyes sharpen as he hears it, a change in the air that raises him from his seat as the first of the Security Organization's alarms ring, summoning his lengthway blade, Miike Tenta Mitsuyo, he exits the room.
/Security Breach-Security Breach-Floor One-Cafeteria/
What hell is wrong with me? Peter felt like an outside observer to the actions his body was pulling off. He threw fists, kicked, spun and fired webbing.
But it was all blunt, no thought to his movements-which allowed Archer bob and weave without breaking a sweat.
"You should try faking, maybe you'd actually land a hit on me," The red-garbed servant quipped-side-stepping another strike from the brunette.
Peter would usually retort, but his usual canter was hindered somewhat by an undeniable rage that coursed through him. I thought I was done with this guy after Fuyuki, what the hell is he doing here? He leaps to the ceiling, webs two points beyond Archer and pulls himself to the servant. Why can't I think straight?!
The red-clad man prepares to move, but Peter was faster this time. His heels get him in the chest and knock him back-flying, if you will-towards a table.
Archer lands, and snaps it in half with his impact. Though he wasn't hurt at all. Picking himself back up, he moves his head to avoid the electrified fist of the brunette.
The man raises a brow to the teen, unimpressed with the showing-"Calm-" He grabs Peter's wrist. Cringes on contact, but keeps his grip, "DOWN!"
With unerring finesse, Peter finds himself on the floor, arms behind his back held strong and the servant's boot on his back.
Peter fumes and struggles, trying to pull all his will and strength to break the hold Archer had got him in. Like a cornered animal, the smarter side of Peter couldn't help but be embarrassed about the result of the fight. Was this even a fight, he didn't even attack me-I was the one who threw the first punch, he considered, his body shifting from view as fear etched into him.
He was at the mercy of King Arthur's former guard. What if he remembered what happened in Fuyuki? Was this revenge? Was he going to die without again ever seeing everyone he ever knew or loved?
"Why…." he sputtered weakly, something close to his usual mindset breaking through the surface of what had overtaken him.
Archer blows air, his grip still strong. "Why? I don't know, you're the one who attacked me. I simply asked you a question-and you threw a hissy fit, like a brat!" He says callously.
The alarm had been sounding off the moment the fight began, even with it clogging up the air-one could still hear a door opening.
Without missing a beat, the red-clad archer found the tip of a katana to his neck. His grey eyes knew the blade the moment he saw it, but that didn't matter at the moment. His gaze then met the fierce amber eyes of the servant wielding the blade.
Archer's temples queried at the servants' appearance, "huh?"
"Let go of my master, or I'll make sure that is the last full sentence you ever utter," The pseudo-priest promised.
Archer found himself at an impasse, the kid still struggled against his grip. And if he were to let him go-he was sure the brunette would try to attack him again. Same rage, The servant could feel something in saint graph edging him on to meet the enemy servant's challenge. This priest was a traitor, protecting this thief-but at the end of the day, EMIYA wasn't here to kill the kid, not yet at least.
"SENPAI?!" The girl's voice rang out, coming from the way the priest came was a lavender-haired girl wearing what EMIYA assumed was her night wear, though wielding a cross-esque shield that went against her attire's style.
She came to the pseudo-priest's side, shield raised and ready to fight if the Archer servant didn't relent.
The alarm stopped, leaving a tentative quietness. EMIYA heard more coming, from beyond the threshold. This got out of hand fast,
Miike Tenta Mitsuyo had never left its place. "I'm waiting," The priest warned.
EMIYA mentally groaned, This will become a hassle if I don't play ball, he figured-swallowing his pride and releasing his grip.
Taking it slow, he let go and stepped away from the teen-who had become haggard from either the fight or whatever had driven him to attack the Archer-servant without a second thought.
Hands up to show he meant no harm EMIYA watched as the Shielder and priest put themselves between him and the teen, the teen who had fallen into unconsciousness.
The pseudo-priest spoke, "State your name, and your reasoning!" More people flocked into the room.
A strawberry blonde-haired man with heavy bags under his eyes, he vexed EMIYA for some reason.
A brunette woman that EMIYA immediately identified as a servant.
The two raised Archer's strange-o-meter for one reason or another. But they didn't matter at the moment.
EMIYA looked to the pseudo-priest, the counter guardian knew exactly who he was-in a vague sense at least, memories were still mangled after his hiccup of a summoning. He had never met him in life, never faced him in a grail war. But one thing he learned in life was that you could never really trust a man of the cloth entirely
"I'm an Archer-servant…" He points to the brunette "... he summoned me" He crosses his arms self-assuredly "Any questions?"