How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

[SotF]

Fujimaru is specifically noted as being incapable of riding a horse during Septem. Beyond that, the terrain is extremely varied, and a horseback trip will still take ten days, factoring in regular, constant resupplies of fresh horses (as seen with the Pony Express). And that's not even factoring the interruptions from the various armies, the lack of proper travel infrastructure, and both the wildlife and potentially hostlie humans they might encounter along the way.

In short: America is fuckin' huge, and is literally impossible to finish as a Singularity in anything even approximately resembling a reasonable timeframe.

Click to shrink...

If I remember right, America might have hidden why travel isn't that slow, several of the paths on the map match up pretty well to some of the older rail lines...

Of course it's been a while since I'd played (I had some phone trouble and the replacement phone had faulty memory that crapped out the night after I transferred things from my old, damaged phone, and I lost the account I'd spent a year and a half with), and I've only just decided to try again.

 

[Charles Flynn]

If I remember right, America might have hidden why travel isn't that slow, several of the paths on the map match up pretty well to some of the older rail lines...

Of course it's been a while since I'd played (I had some phone trouble and the replacement phone had faulty memory that crapped out the night after I transferred things from my old, damaged phone, and I lost the account I'd spent a year and a half with), and I've only just decided to try again.

Click to shrink...

It's set in 1783, the last year of the Revolutionary War. The various towns on the western frontier were most likely founded by Edison as he lead the retreat towards the West, but the rail lines would take too long to build, and, beyond that, would most likely have been immediately destroyed by the Celts.

Some short rail lines may have already existed, but they were confined to the East Coast, and as such, most likely destroyed by the Celts. The big lines, including the Trans-Continental Railroad, were built in the 19th Century, when the Industrial Revolution made its way across the Atlantic.

 

[SotF]

It's set in 1783, the last year of the Revolutionary War. The various towns on the western frontier were most likely founded by Edison as he lead the retreat towards the West, but the rail lines would take too long to build, and, beyond that, would most likely have been immediately destroyed by the Celts.

Some short rail lines may have already existed, but they were confined to the East Coast, and as such, most likely destroyed by the Celts. The big lines, including the Trans-Continental Railroad, were built in the 19th Century, when the Industrial Revolution made its way across the Atlantic.

Click to shrink...

Considering this is Fate, that doesn't actually matter as much considering there are mechs and robots fighting during it and you have other crazies involved

 

[Charles Flynn]

Considering this is Fate, that doesn't actually matter as much considering there are mechs and robots fighting during it and you have other crazies involved

Click to shrink...

Just because the fantastical exists, does not mean that the mundane does not. Magecraft and Mystery ultimately proved inferior to the slow march of scientific progress for a reason. All the Servants and spells are flashy, sure, but don't forget that it was science and a great many people working together that let man set foot on the moon, not magecraft.

Even in the most fantastical of places, in the company of the most uncanny of folk, reality ensues.

 

[Sleeping Moon]

Considering this is Fate, that doesn't actually matter as much considering there are mechs and robots fighting during it and you have other crazies involved

Click to shrink...

Just because the fantastical exists, does not mean that the mundane does not. Magecraft and Mystery ultimately proved inferior to the slow march of scientific progress for a reason. All the Servants and spells are flashy, sure, but don't forget that it was science and a great many people working together that let man set foot on the moon, not magecraft.

Even in the most fantastical of places, in the company of the most uncanny of folk, reality ensues.

Click to shrink...

I think I'll vouch for magical side this time on why the American Singularity is weird. Do note that Edison is literal in efficiency and spread of technology; mass production so technically he can make stuff spread around faster and theres Helena with her UFO schtick.

Also even when their resistance side they have a shaman and shamans tend to commune with nature(or the land) and given the mana saturation of the singularity to let not just one but FOUR Indians with association to Divinity might let ya pull the wool.

So I think its necessary to say that they had 'ways' on traveling the Singularity faster or the war literally took 1-3 months to finish (given Anime!Gudao still had more like half a year (look at final scene at Babylonia anime, makes ya notice how competent Anime!Gudao is lol... or the timeline Grand Order happened is the year Singularity F Anime was released) to spare before Chaldea reaches the deadline.

 

[Charles Flynn]

I think I'll vouch for magical side this time on why the American Singularity is weird. Do note that Edison is literal in efficiency and spread of technology; mass production so technically he can make stuff spread around faster and theres Helena with her UFO schtick.

Also even when their resistance side they have a shaman and shamans tend to commune with nature(or the land) and given the mana saturation of the singularity to let not just one but FOUR Indians with association to Divinity might let ya pull the wool.

So I think its necessary to say that they had 'ways' on traveling the Singularity faster or the war literally took 1-3 months to finish (given Anime!Gudao still had more like half a year (look at final scene at Babylonia anime, makes ya notice how competent Anime!Gudao is lol... or the timeline Grand Order happened is the year Singularity F Anime was released) to spare before Chaldea reaches the deadline.

Click to shrink...

I will acknowledge that Edison's entire war effort was quite likely a logistical masterpiece, and his invasion was most likely the result of years of effort.

But it should also be noted that Edison's entire schtick is mass-production and simplifying the work of preexisting inventors, making hi-tech inventions widely available to the masses, i.e. decreasing Mystery. He, much like Holmes and Tesla, is a Servant capable of destroying entire magus families through observation and analysis, depowering their Mysteries. As a result, there was almost no magic involved in his war effort. Just him turning Mystery into common fact and using it to fight the enemy.

Further, considering that the Resistance operated outside Edison's supply line, I would argue that they would be forced to operate in smaller, independent guerilla cells due to the utterly massive area they were forced to cover. They most likely didn't have Edison's range.

Just because a war includes magic and ancient warriors doesn't mean that logistics and physical distance cease to matter. Especially in an area as big as the Continental United States. It's easily the largest Singularity in the entire Grand Order. In fact, Edison's success in holding back the Celts most likely came from the fact that he had better logistics, treating the war in the modern manner, as a massive, coordinated effort that required careful marshalling of existing resources, in stark contrast to the Celts' more individualistic, glory-centric, and chaotic approach to war.

 

[Sleeping Moon]

I will acknowledge that Edison's entire war effort was quite likely a logistical masterpiece, and his invasion was most likely the result of years of effort.

But it should also be noted that Edison's entire schtick is mass-production and simplifying the work of preexisting inventors, making hi-tech inventions widely available to the masses, i.e. decreasing Mystery. He, much like Holmes and Tesla, is a Servant capable of destroying entire magus families through observation and analysis, depowering their Mysteries. As a result, there was almost no magic involved in his war effort. Just him turning Mystery into common fact and using it to fight the enemy.

Further, considering that the Resistance operated outside Edison's supply line, I would argue that they would be forced to operate in smaller, independent guerilla cells due to the utterly massive area they were forced to cover. They most likely didn't have Edison's range.

Just because a war includes magic and ancient warriors doesn't mean that logistics and physical distance cease to matter. Especially in an area as big as the Continental United States. It's easily the largest Singularity in the entire Grand Order. In fact, Edison's success in holding back the Celts most likely came from the fact that he had better logistics, treating the war in the modern manner, as a massive, coordinated effort that required careful marshalling of existing resources, in stark contrast to the Celts' more individualistic, glory-centric, and chaotic approach to war.

Click to shrink...

That's the thing, Edison is kinda a Servant at the Singularity and also an almagation of the US presidents so technically even if the guy is a Man of Science, he can't destroy the Mysteries of others as other scientists cause he literally is a huge lump formed of Spiritrons and Mana.

Also how the fuck the Resistance operate was one of the things I was curious of when one side had Celts who may be full of individualism but still retains a tight knit group like a family and don't make me forget the combination of the genius magus Helena who can spread familiars and use her unique brand of Mystery to pull not just S&R but a wide spread targeting system platforms and as you said, a logistical masterpiece of how Edison made his side is so I brainstormed it a bit and find a simple theory/possible answer.

The land, America regardless if the current occupants who came from Europe to settle is still not recognized as the original settlers of tribesmen. Also, because the Mystery and Phantasmal Creatures that operates effectively in America before are majority is that of Nature Spirits so there's a possibility they can move around like those of the Fae and the Fair Folk. With a literal warrior shaman halping the Resistance he might had asked for help on the land to make the small cells they operate with small minimal discovery and the strangely fast mobility they have.

Also lastly, Chaldea even if it follows the time normally is still displaced from time and space and with every operation inside the Singularity it might be possible time is kinda wonky between the Master inside the Singularity and the Chaldean Staff on the other side monitoring him/her.

Cause honestly? I am honestly bewildered at first that even if the Master had arrived and the Singularities occupants stops idling and uses fast yet efficient tactics makes me salute at the staff/people operating the logistics of not just the Chaldean once but those of the Singularities in the commonly fast and chaotic theater of war they dance about.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Master," Paracelsus von Hohenheim says with a nod.

"Caster," I reply, returning the nod. Asterios has already been settled in, but I'll be the first to admit that I don't actually know Paracelsus all that well. He'll require a gentler touch.

"Have you set a space aside for my workshop?" he asks, gathering up his kit and uncapping a few bottles. Lumpy white proto-homunculi come spilling forth.

"Yes, actually. We found an abandoned apartment, its owner seems to have perished in the recent unpleasantness." I say distractedly, staring at the homunculi. "May I ask about those?"

"Oh. They're my assistants. Not quite proper homunculi, but quite handy around the lab."

"They look completely identical to the ones that we've encountered elsewhere in the Singularity." I report, still looking at the near-featureless lumps of white flesh. He's probably not going to turn his coat on us, but juuuust in case... 'Cursed Arm, engage Presence Concealment and make for my position.'

'Already there, Master.'

That… makes me feel better and is setting off my paranoia. At the same time, even.

"Indeed?" Paracelsus inquires, pulling out a sword. "If you'll excuse me, I must sample this Demonic Fog."

He steps into the empty apartment we prepared for him, muttering arias under his breath as he approaches the window. At last, he returns, with a grim look on his face.

"It would seem, Master, that I am your enemy."

....

'Cursed Arm, prepare to terminate Caster.'

"Ah! I phrased that poorly, didn't I? I suppose it'd be more accurate to say that another iteration of me is your enemy."

'...Belay that order, but keep your Zabaniya handy.' I realize what I just said and wince. 'No pun intended.'

"So, the enemy ranks include another Paracelsus." I summarize. "You'll have to forgive me if this isn't exactly filling me with trust."

"Oh." Paracelsus bows his head. "I'm very sorry, Master. I suppose I'll have to prove my loyalty via my deeds."

"How do you know there's another you?"

"Well, the Demonic Fog has all the markings of my handiwork." Paracelsus notes. "I would surmise that its purpose is to sap the prana of the population of London, creating a dense, mana-rich fog from which Servants can emerge."

"You… got all that in less than three minutes?"

"Oh. Well, I recognized it as an idea I had when I was still alive. Never could get it to work, and once I lost momentum, my tunnel-vision vanished, and I realized how blatantly unethical it was." Caster recounts. "But now its here, and its working fine! I wonder how he got it to-"

I snap my fingers, and the legendary alchemist pulls himself together. "No hijacking the fog, von Hohenheim." I give him my best Mom Look, and it seems to take.

"W-Well, regardless, this is actually good news for us!" Paracelsus carries on, looking embarrassed. "Since it was designed to work with my Magecraft, I can utilize it to power up my Mysteries!"

"How so?"

"I can use it to power up my Bounded Fields, instead of using your Circuits and Chaldea's engines as a power source." he rattles off, practically bouncing with glee. "Further, I can probably reprogram and take for myself some of the other Paracelsus' proto-homunculi, and use the Bounded Field to keep him from returning the favor. Beyond that, I can get it all set up in a day, and then start producing-"

'Master, Jekyll's on the radio.' Georgios sends.

'Be there in a sec.' I reply, before returning my attention to Paracelsus. "Duty calls, Caster. I need to get to the radio, and I'm probably heading out afterwards. Set up the defences, and run everything you want to add in past Caesar. He's in command when I'm gone, and you should treat his orders as if they were mine. Understood?"

"Yes, Master." Paracelsus says with a grin. "This building shall rise as an unassailable fortress of alchemy!"

"As long as Caesar and I receive step-by-step updates on the process and retain veto power, that's fine by me."

---​

"Dr. Jekyll. Good to hear your voice again." I offer in greeting. "But I doubt this is a social call. What occasion has led you to contact me?"

"I've received reports of a giant book in Soho, breaking down doors and dragging people off."

"A giant... book."

"It's just as surreal for me as it is for you."

"I sincerely doubt that." I reply, taking a second to reflect on the fact that I am currently in Victorian London, talking to a fictional character about how I and my team of legendary hero ghosts need to go and beat up a magic floating book, all while Frankenstein's Monster is in the next apartment over.

Sweet Jesus God in Heaven, I love my job.

"Well," Jekyll seems slightly put out by my brusqueness. "Mordred is already on her way."

"We'll join her." I announce confidently. "This is Flynn, signing off."

I switch the radio off, and get up.

'Galahad, Asterios, Georgios, and Cursed Arm, you're with me. We're heading out to Soho to deal with a magical book of some descriptor that's been terrorizing the locals.' I send off, getting a chorus of affirmatives. 'Cu, Caesar, you're on defence. Keep on eye on Paracelsus, he's under orders to run all Bounded Fields and other Magecraft by Caesar. Cu, since you're the only other one with magical knowledge, you're his fact-checker.'

Some good-natured grumbling from Cu, but they're game.

Just one last thing before I head out.

---​

I knock on the door to the Coopers' apartment. "Mr. Frankenstein? We're heading out to Soho to deal with some sort of evil magic book. Would you care to join us?"

The door opens, and yellow eyes meet mine. "I suppose that'll be novel enough. Let me get my street clothes and my axe, and then I'll join you."

He's back out in five minutes, wearing an Ulster overcoat, a pair of brown-tinted spectacles, and a top hat, with a massive axe resting on his right shoulder, an ugly thing of twisted black iron.

"Very well. Shall we go?"

And so we went.

 

[Quacking duck]

I suppose that'll be novel enough.

Click to shrink...

Haha, don't think for a moment that I didn't see that pun!

 

[Charles Flynn]

"So, the leaders are called 'P,' 'B,' and 'M.'" I echo, thinking it over.

"Yes, although I haven't the foggiest as to their true identities," Frankenstein confirms, looking out through the fog as we follow Asterios.

"Well, one of them is probably Paracelsus von Hohenheim," I offer up. "The version I summoned at Chaldea confirmed that the Demonic Fog is at least partially his handiwork."

"Fascinating." Frankenstein comments, stroking his chin. "That's 'P,' which leaves us with 'B' and 'M.' And I doubt we'll be lucky enough to have our own versions of them as well."

"'M' might be Professor Moriarty." Galahad notes, before freezing up as Georgios, Frankenstein, and I all turn to look at him. "W-well, it's how he sometimes signed his letters in the Holmes stories he appeared in." We still keep looking at him. "N-not that I've ever read them, that is, but Mash is a fan of the character, and I couldn't help but pick up a thing or two."

"Fair enough." I turn my eyes back to the path ahead. "Could stand for 'Mycroft,' too. Holmes' brother. They did that in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."

"Didn't much like that one. Too over-the-top and edgy." Galahad comments, before seeming to realize what he said. "I-I mean, Mash didn't like-" I raise an eyebrow, and he slumps. "Please don't tell my father?"

"My lips are sealed." I grin, and the conversation comes to an end.

'Master. Book ahead. Be cautious.' Asterios sends from where he slowly advances ahead of us.

I take a look at the building ahead of us, and then sigh in resignation.

Of course it's a bloody bookstore.

"Georgios, go in and find the book. Then destroy it. It's purportedly magic-based, and as such, you're functionally immune."

"As you would have it, my Master." the Saint agrees with a solemn nod, before striding boldly off towards the bookstore.

"A bit anticlimactic, don't you think?" Frankenstein asks, leaning back against a nearby wall and pulling a book out of his coat.

"Hey, if it works, it works, no matter how flashy it may or may not be."

"Truly, we stand in awe of your complete lack of anything resembling pride or ethics." Galahad remarks from behind me.

"Remind me again, what did your rigid adherence to being the perfect, honorable knight ever get you? Oh, right, a young death! And the decimation of your king's military." I fire back, appreciating the opportunity to kill some time. "Truly, such lofty deeds are beyond us modern folk, who may hold only paltry echoes of your faded glory."

"Indeed!" Galahad snaps. "We were willing to give our very lives to prove that we were men of worth, and to do what we knew was right. A characteristic I find to have faded and vanished, from the watery character of modern man."

"Well, you know, natural selection and all that." I retort with a grin. "All the stupidly brave people died virgins, leaving us clever cowards to inherit the Earth."

"And we died well!" Galahad replies. "We died but once, where you die a thousand times, casting aside yourself for base survival alone! Better a short life of glory than a long life of dishonor, I say!"

"On that, I fear, we'll have to disagree."

"And what can you claim, o enlightened one? What do you have, that you can say is yours and yours alone? What deeds do you have, hmm? Perhaps the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, but you are a very small part indeed! Come on! Tell me one thing about you that makes you better than me! One thing, one deed, one fact, that makes you in any way better than me!"

I could say a lot of things. I could bring up my education. I could bring up that I'm not a colossally smug, holier-than-thou jackass. But my temper runs hot, and Galahad's taunts are hitting me where it hurts. So I go for the low blow.

"My parents actually loved each other."

Galahad freezes, and I suddenly regret saying it. "Okay, that was too far, I'm-"

At that point, he steps in, grabs me by the shoulders, and knees me in the crotch with the strength of thirty men.

I don't remember much after that, what with blacking out from the pain, and all.

 

[KenNM]

Ouch for both Galahad and Flynn

Just as it looks like they're making progress, Flynn's still a jackass.

 

[Charles Flynn]

Ouch for both Galahad and Flynn

Just as it looks like they're making progress, Flynn's still a jackass.

Click to shrink...

Like I said. When he doesn't actually plan things out and prepare himself, and have a fairly good understanding of his target, he's astoundingly bad with people.

To be fair, though, Galahad actually was poking at a sore spot for Flynn, even if he didn't know it.

 

[ARSLOTHES]

You know, I would've thought that Flynn actually would learn to control his mouth and impulses over the singularities

 

[Delta Green]

Like I said. When he doesn't actually plan things out and prepare himself, and have a fairly good understanding of his target, he's astoundingly bad with people.

To be fair, though, Galahad actually was poking at a sore spot for Flynn, even if he didn't know it.

Click to shrink...

So, both of them are astoundingly bad with people?

It's just that Galahad had/has the reputation of being the perfect knight to carry him through social matters.

They really are well-matched.

 

[Charles Flynn]

Sweet Jesus on high, everything hurts.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Paracelsus notes, coming over from a table in the room's corner to loom over me.

I'm in a cot in the room we gave Paracelsus to use as a lab.

And...

Galahad.

"How bad is the damage?" I ask, noting Paracelsus' guilty start. "Do I still have.. well, y'know?"

"It was... quite significant, damage-wise." Paracelsus observes uncomfortably, not looking me in the eye. "I... er… had to use a Philosopher's Stone to... um... restock your box and tackle."

He had to- Jesus, how bad was it? No, wait, I don't want to know.

"Where's Galahad?"

---​

He's waiting outside Paracelsus' lab-turned infirmary, arms crossed and staring at the floor. Georgios and Cu both stand between him and the dare, glaring at him with their hands on their weapons.

Of course, that's when I emerge, still walking with a limp (Paracelsus assures me it's psychosomatic).

"Master." Georgios says in greeting, still not taking his eyes off Galahad. "It is good to see you awake and walking once more."

"Yeah!" Cu cheers. "I thought Captain Prissy-Pants here broke your dick!" He pauses thoughtfully. "It still working?"

Galahad and I both wince. "It is still working, yes." I grind out. "Although that's only because Paracelsus is a ridiculously skilled Caster."

Cu pats me on my back, knocking the wind out of me. "Don't sell yourself short, Master! You got balls of steel!"

My mumbled protests of how no, that is not in fact the case are drowned out by my panicked wheezing as I desperately try to refill my emptied lungs. Finally, however, I pull myself together, to see all three of my Servants in the hallway looking at me in concern.

"I'm fine." I assure them, leaning against the wall. "What happened while I was out of it?"

Georgios takes over telling me the story, while Cu takes the brunt of their glaring-at-Galahad-while-brandishing-weapons duties. "I defeated the book, with the aid of a Rogue Servant, one Hans Christian Anderson, and emerged to find you slumped over, unconscious with a broken pelvis, while Assassin and Berserker were doing their level best to kill Galahad, who was only defending himself, while Mr. Frankenstein tried to play peacekeeper and stood guard over you. Sir Mordred arrived just about then, and helped me sort things out." He sighs. "Once I'd defused the situation, we returned to our base as swiftly as possible, and got you medical treatment." He pauses, then adds on as an afterthought, "Anderson came with us, too. Said that this was too interesting to pass up."

Right. That's definitely something I'll need to look into later. But first... "I'm going to need to talk with Galahad. Alone."

That gets the expected protests from Cu, while Georgios simply nods in silent understanding.

"Master, come on! He attacked you! I can get wanting to get along with a good opponent, but-"

"It's fine, Cu." I assure him, grabbing Galahad's arm and leading him off to the guest room I've been staying in. He follows, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

We get there, and I close the door, crossing my arms and looking at him.

"Well?"

"I'm.. sorry, Flynn." Galahad mutters, as if the words physically pain him. "I... failed to properly control my emotions, and lashed out. It was... unbecoming of a knight." He doesn't look up from the floor.

"Well, I'm sorry too. I lost my temper and said something I shouldn't have." I reply, sitting down. Honestly, I should hold a grudge. I really should. But I honestly think I would have done the same thing if our positions were reversed, and how can I blame him for doing what I would do? Not to mention, I've definitely done worse. "So, shall we agree that we both screwed up, and we'll do better in the future?"

He looks at me for the first time since I woke up, and it's in complete and utter confusion, like I just grew an extra head and started speaking in limericks. "But... I failed."

"As did I. We'll do better next time." I repeat, looking at him in concern.

"That's... but... I'm supposed to be better than that..." he says in a small voice, as if the very idea that he could have failed, and have it be dismissed is incomprehensible to him.

"Well..." I'm not really sure on how to get through to him on this. "Everybody messes up sometimes."

"NOT ME!" he snaps, lifting me by my collar and yelling in my face. "I'm supposed to be BETTER THAN THAT! How do you... How do I live knowing that I'm not what I wanted to be! That I am below the standard of what is righteous! My standard!" He realizes what he's done, and lowers me to the ground, his hands shaking. "How do you... how do you live with that? I don't... I don't understand."

"So... let me get this straight." I say in a level tone, trying to wrap my head around it. "You're upset... not because I was hurt.... but because it means you're not perfectly righteous anymore."

"Yes!" he snaps, as if it were obvious, pacing about as if he's trying to burn a hole through the rug. "I mean, I know I'm not entirely upset that you got hurt, you're an insufferable jackass, after all, and it feels like you keep getting worse, but I know it's wrong! You're weaker than me, and you're my liege-lord. I'm obligated to protect you, follow your orders, and never raise a hand against you!" He pauses, looking at me in desperation. "I raised my hand against you, Flynn!"

"Well, more like your knee, actually."

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING!"

"All right, so, you don't know how to deal with failing to live up to your own ridiculously high standards of behavior." I summarize, thinking it over. How do I get the perfect knight to manage something that most normal people learn how to do by the time they're five? Wait... "Galahad, you said that I'm your liege lord, right?"

"Yes. Although you're considerably less virtuous than my previous one."

"Then take this as a command from your liege:" I order, rising and pointing straight at him. "Live with yourself."

"But I don't know how to-"

"When God and glory drove you to seek the Grail, did you falter?"

"No."

"Then, I have commanded that you live with yourself. That you keep going, knowing that you have failed and filled with a resolve to do better, surpassing all your conduct in times past with future virtue, until you may hold your head high once more." I smirk. "Unless this quest is too great for the mighty Sir Galahad, that is."

He looks as if he's about to launch an angry retort at me, before he falters, shaking his head and grinning. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

"I suppose I should get some rest. I haven't let Mash's body rest since we got back. She needs her sleep."

"I'll leave you to it."

'Master, Caesar speaking. Jack the Ripper is assaulting Scotland Yard.'

"On second thought, sleep can wait," I backtrack, grabbing Galahad's arm, and darting out the door. "Let's go!"

'All Servants, assemble in the dining room. We have a situation in progress.'

 

[Potates]

Alright, I can take Fran being replaced. But if you take away Flynn's reaction to Jack being a murder loli, I will huff in disappointment. You hear me?! Huff!

 

[Bear_Mint]

Alright, I can take Fran being replaced. But if you take away Flynn's reaction to Jack being a murder loli, I will huff in disappointment. You hear me?! Huff!

Click to shrink...

Don't hold your expectations too high. He could throw a curveball at us and reveal Strange Fake Jack the Ripper instead.

 

[Darko]

The tiny murder machine is here!

Yay!

 

[Charles Flynn]

Alright, I can take Fran being replaced. But if you take away Flynn's reaction to Jack being a murder loli, I will huff in disappointment. You hear me?! Huff!

Click to shrink...

Fear not. Jack will remain unchanged. Mostly because I find their character to be a strange mixture of utterly terrifying and surprisingly sympathetic, and that's too valuable to discard out of hand.

I also have a fondness for the fact that, while they're a Jack the Ripper, they're not the only Jack the Ripper. It allows for multiple takes on the character, with varying degrees of fidelity to the traditional representation of the character. It's also a solid acknowledgement of the fact that Jack the Ripper is a figure shrouded in Mystery, who might not have ever really existed in the first place.

 

[RazielofSecrets]

Fear not. Jack will remain unchanged. Mostly because I find their character to be a strange mixture of utterly terrifying and surprisingly sympathetic, and that's too valuable to discard out of hand.

I also have a fondness for the fact that, while they're a Jack the Ripper, they're not the only Jack the Ripper. It allows for multiple takes on the character, with varying degrees of fidelity to the traditional representation of the character. It's also a solid acknowledgement of the fact that Jack the Ripper is a figure shrouded in Mystery, who might not have ever really existed in the first place.

Click to shrink...

To clarify, Jackie is the Wraith made of a gestalt of orphaned, abandoned, and aborted children from Whitechapel who in their attempts to physically return to the womb(using knives to try to get inside) is the actual Jack the Ripper in all of the Fate timelines. I don't know what the deal is with the letters, but that's the story. Berserker Jack the Ripper is the manifestation of the story of Jack the Ripper, born from the real Jackie's actions, so you could use both in this version of the Singularity.

 

[Charles Flynn]

To clarify, Jackie is the Wraith made of a gestalt of orphaned, abandoned, and aborted children from Whitechapel who in their attempts to physically return to the womb(using knives to try to get inside) is the actual Jack the Ripper in all of the Fate timelines. I don't know what the deal is with the letters, but that's the story. Berserker Jack the Ripper is the manifestation of the story of Jack the Ripper, born from the real Jackie's actions, so you could use both in this version of the Singularity.

Click to shrink...

Is she though? We know that Jackie killed prostitutes, before being exorcised by a magus. We don't know how many victims she had, or if her victims coincided with the ones attributed to Jack the Ripper. Further, a few of the victims were seen in the company of different men before their murders. It's actually quite possible that there was more than one individual responsible for the set of murders attributed to Jack the Ripper, hence the multiple Rippers.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"All right. Jack the Ripper is active in this Singularity, and attacking Scotland Yard," I note as Asterios carries me piggyback through the streets. Georgios, Cursed Arm, Galahad, Anderson, and Mr. Frankenstein are all with me, while Cu, Caesar, and Paracelsus all man the fort. "Question: Why is this the first I'm hearing about Jack the Ripper being here?"

"I think we might've been attacked by them," Galahad comments besides me.

"What? When?" Oh dear God, does Jack the Ripper have the power to erase memories? How many times have they attacked me? Are they attacking me right now? Fuck it, I'm getting Paracelsus to make the biggest bombs he can, and then we're taking off and nuking this godforsaken town from orbit!

"While Mordred and I were carrying your unconscious ass after you fainted." Galahad notes. "I remember that we were attacked by someone, but for the life of me I can't remember what they looked like or said."

"So, they erase memories of their presence," I note. "A useful power for a serial killer." I then glare at Galahad. "And I didn't faint, I passed out from the pain of you dislocating my arm, Galahad."

"There was a damsel in distress!" Galahad protests, tossing his hands up as we barrel through a few automata. "What else could I do?"

"Careful, Sir Knight. Your Quixote is showing."

"I-" he blinks. "I don't actually know what that is."

"We'll have to work on your reference pools when we get back to Chaldea, then."

---​

Scotland Yard... has seen better days.

At least, I assume it's seen better days. By definition, just about any day is better than the day it looks like a bombed-out wreck, strewn with the hacked and dismembered corpses of its former inhabitants.

Yeah, this one's definitely gonna feature in my nightmares.

And, standing before the shell that was once a legendary bastion of law enforcement, stand Paracelsus von Hohenheim and a little girl wearing...

Dear GOD what is that child wearing? Whoever put her in that ought to be shot! Or drawn and quartered! Or both! Jesus FUCKING Christ!

My disgust and horror for the fact that that five-year-old is wearing a fucking thong aside, I quickly do my best to take stock of the situation.

They've noticed us, which becomes quickly evident as Paracelsus turns to face us.

"So. Chaldea's champions have arrived."

Okay, time for a quick confirmation. 'Paracelsus, you're still back at base, right?'

'Yes, Master. You have encountered my doppelganger?'

'He's in the middle of a field of dismembered corpses next to a five-year-old in a thong.'

There's a moment of silence. 'Are you... sure that's me?'

'Pretty sure.'

'Ah. I'm going to need to... I actually don't know. Is there any alcohol in the apartment?'

'I wouldn't know. I don't drink on the job unless the world goes crazy.'

'Right. Good luck with evil pedophile me, then.'

I return my attention to Evil Pedophile Paracelsus, who's still monologuing.. 'Galahad, what'd I miss?'

'He gloated about Project Demonic Fog, identified himself as P, just standard evil gloating, really.'

"Such sinful beings as you cannot hope to halt the Incineration," Evil Pedophile Paracelsus says with a sigh.

"Said the pedophile!" I interject.

"I- WHAT?" Paracelsus yelps, all evil momentum lost as his face blanches. "I'm not a pedophile!"

"Said the man standing next to a five-year-old in a thong."

"I- no! That's Jack the Ripper! It's not what you think!" Evil Paracelsus protests, utterly mortified. I'm actually getting the impression he's telling the truth, but like hell I'm gonna let a distraction this good go to waste.

I silently order Cursed Arm to circle around and give him the Jalter treatment as I continue to press the conversational advantage. "Jack the Ripper? London's most terrifying serial killer a severely underdressed little girl? A likely story. And even if that's the case, what are you doing hanging about with her, pedo?"

"I was conducting a purge of Scotland Yard in order to retrieve a secured artifact!" Paracelsus answers, looking about desperately. "It was entirely a matter of business!"

"Mister Paracelsus?" the purported Jack the Ripper asks, looking up to him with wide eyes. "What's a pedophile?"

Okay, I like this kid.

"Oh. Well, um..." Paracelsus stammers, his face falling in horror as he realizes what he just signed himself up for.

Anderson laughs, his hearty baritone ringing out through the fog, and Paracelsus turns on him angrily. "What's so funny?"

"You!" the little Caster bellows, a grin splitting his face. "I see, now! Before, I had dismissed you out of hand, but now, I see it! Your character is dull, the saintly alchemist whose single-minded pursuit of his goals undoes him, but now I see its value! You're so laughably Byronic and thoroughly unsympathetic that your misfortunes are guaranteed comedy!"

Holy shit I like this one.

"You DARE!" Paracelsus snaps, raising the glowing sword by his side.

"Delusional Heartbeat: Zabaniya."

And Evil Paracelsus promptly falls, as Cursed Arm's malevolent talons sink into his heart.

'Exceptional performance as ever, Cursed Arm.'

'It was my pleasure to be of service, Master.'

"You think... that this will kill me?" Evil Paracelsus snaps, a glowing crystal in hand. "My Philosopher's Stone has granted me immortality! I will not die so easily!"

He rises, sword in hand, and then stares into the plate-clad chest of Saint Georgios the Dragon Slayer, and feels the hot breath of Asterios on the back of his neck.

The ensuing fight is laughably short, and by the end of it, Evil Paracelsus is quite thoroughly dead.

Right. That's Paracelsus dead. Now where's Jack?

"Are you my Mommy?" the little white-haired demon asks, standing not even a foot away from me.

Alright. Pow-wow time. Moral Charlie wants to say no, and try to find the kid's real parents. Cowardly Charlie wants to say yes, because this kid could eviscerate me in a second if she actually is Jack the Ripper. Pragmatic Charlie wants to see if I can exploit her abilities by convincing her that I'm her mother. Lazy Charlie votes no, because parenthood sounds like considerably more work than getting eviscerated. And Perpetually Bored Charlie wants to say yes, just because it'd probably be hilarious.

Looks like the answer's yes! Now, time to dress things up a bit.

"Young lady, what do you think you're wearing?"

She blinks. "Ummm… clothes?"

"Like hell they are! No daughter of mine is going out dressed like that!" I snap, doing my best impression of my own mother.

"M-Mommy?"

"Well, obviously, now let's get you home before somebody sees you." I insist, steering her away.

The various Servants are looking at me in outright disbelief, and Mr. Frankenstein just broke out laughing.

'Flynn, you can't recruit Jack the Ripper!' Galahad snaps over the mental link. 'Even ignoring her many, many crimes, there's also the matter of her being a mentally unstable time bomb! She's going to kill you!'

'Well, obviously,' I reply as I step over the severed arms of one unfortunate bobby. 'But I'd argue that the best course of action would be to set up a trap in advance, and lead her into it.' With that said, I redirect my focus towards Paracelsus. 'I'm leading back Jack the Ripper. I'll need you to set up a trap to contain and terminate her before we get there.'

'Understood. Beginning analysis of the Servant.'

---​

"Welcome home, Jack." I offer up.

She smiles, unshakably happy, and for a moment, just a moment, I hesitate. But a field of charnel dances before my eyes, of men doing their jobs and seeking to protect the people of their city cut down without mercy or distinction, and my heart hardens once more. My mask of a face doesn't slip, still smiling in paternal kindness as I guide her to her room, prepared by Paracelsus before our arrival, and send her inside to change.

I don't stick around to hear the Bounded Field activate. Or to listen to her screams as the exorcism begins, and she's sent back to the Throne.

Instead, I head to Frankenstein's apartment, and share a drink with him, just one, before heading off to bed.

She awaits me in my nightmares.

 

[Darko]

"Said the pedophile!" I interject.

"I- WHAT?" Paracelsus yelps, all evil momentum lost as his face blanches. "I'm not a pedophile!"

"Said the man standing next to a five-year-old in a thong."

"I- no! That's Jack the Ripper! It's not what you think!" Evil Paracelsus protests, utterly mortified. I'm actually getting the impression he's telling the truth, but like hell I'm gonna let a distraction this good go to waste.

I silently order Cursed Arm to circle around and give him the Jalter treatment as I continue to press the conversational advantage. "Jack the Ripper? London's most terrifying serial killer a severely underdressed little girl? A likely story. And even if that's the case, what are you doing hanging about with her, pedo?"

"I was conducting a purge of Scotland Yard in order to retrieve a secured artifact!" Paracelsus answers, looking about desperately. "It was entirely a matter of business!"

"Mister Paracelsus?" the purported Jack the Ripper asks, looking up to him with wide eyes. "What's a pedophile?"

Okay, I like this kid.

"Oh. Well, um..." Paracelsus stammers, his face falling in horror as he realizes what he just signed himself up for.

Click to shrink...

This was just wonderful.

Thank you so much.

The only thing that could make the scene better would be Jack making some remarks that make it seem like he really is a pedo, kinda like Kochin making those evil villain remarks about Wheelo in the Worlds Strongest Abridged movie.

 

[Charles Flynn]

He killed the loli....at least he didn´t lewd her. Also, a question, given that this is a basically a F2P guy (most of his servants are 3 stars or bellow) Will we see him summons somenthing dangerous but that is too OP or useful for him to kill safely?

Click to shrink...

Nothing too dangerous for him to safely dispose of, yet. Except maybe Avenger of Shinjuku.

 

[Bear_Mint]

Charlie needs to lighten up on using Cursed Arm. He is becoming overly dependent on him to end engagements early.

 

[Charles Flynn]

Charlie needs to lighten up on using Cursed Arm. He is becoming overly dependent on him to end engagements early.

Click to shrink...

To be fair, ending engagements through the swift disposal of single priority targets is pretty much what the historical Hashashim did.

But true enough. He'll most likely begin relying more on poisons once he summons Serenity.

 

[Me. Joka-r]

Nothing too dangerous for him to safely dispose of, yet. Except maybe Avenger of Shinjuku.

Click to shrink...

As in (ORIGNAL BY BLUEBEARD) Joan of arc or lobo?

 

[Charles Flynn]

As in (ORIGNAL BY BLUEBEARD) Joan of arc or lobo?

Click to shrink...

Lobo.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Ah. Good." Frankenstein grunts in acknowledgement as I emerge from my room in the morning. Mash is still fast asleep on the couch. "You're up."

"Ah. Yes, I most certainly am." Caesar's out talking to the still-living residents of the apartment complex, while Cu, Georgios, and Cursed Arm are on perimeter watch, while Paracelsus is turning this place into even more of a deathtrap. As such, the only Servants in the room besides me are Asterios and Anderson, who's manning the radio. "What brings you to the apartment, Mr. Frankenstein?"

"I have a hypothesis, and I require your aid in proving it." the great titan of a man informs me, pulling back a chair for himself and taking a seat.

"Of what sort?" I ask, claiming a chair for myself.

"Tell me, what strikes you about the various enemies we have faced in London thus far?" he asks. "At least, the ones that are not Servants."

I think about it, but the answer is an easy one. "They're all manufactured. Each of them is a form of artificial life, or at least an automated facsimile thereof."

"Precisely!" Frankenstein agrees. "But, a further division became apparent to me when we faced Paracelsus. The proto-homunculi were magical in origin, created through magecraft, while the automata and helter-skelters both cleaved towards the mechanical sciences instead. A specialist in one cannot also specialize in the other. Most especially not Paracelsus. Of those few times in which his magecraft intersected with actual scientific study, he leaned more to the chemical and biological sciences. Nothing that would permit him to create functioning mechanical lifeforms."

"Robots." I mutter, prompting Frankenstein to raise an eyebrow. "Ah... a term for mechanical servitors, popularized by the science fiction writer Isaac Asimov in... I want to say the 40s?"

"Sounds like an interesting fellow," he comments with a grin. "He any good?"

"Fairly, although by the time I was around his books had kind of aged a bit poorly." I offer up.

"Well, at least I can count on some halfway decent entertainment, if you, by some miracle, actually stop the Incineration," Frankenstein notes wryly. "Any other authors to be on the lookout for? I'm rather partial to the genre of speculative fiction."

"H. G. Wells, Jules Verne-"

"He's already a thing, actually."

"Oh, neat. H. P. Lovecraft is a fairly good writer, if you can get past the inveterate racism. Can't really think of any other really good sci-fi writers or works off the top of my head, unless you count Edison's Conquest of Mars, and that one's really only good for ironic reasons." I pause. "Oh, but Robert Louis Stevenson's good, although he might actually be still alive and writing right now, and if you make it to the 60s and 70s, you might want to keep an eye out for this movie called Star Wars."

"What's a movie?" he asks, before holding up a hand to forestall my explanation. "No, wait, we're getting wildly off-topic here. What I meant to point out is that while the homunculi were almost certainly the product of Paracelsus' efforts, I believe that the 'robots' have a completely different source. And I think I know just who it is."

"All right. So, what do you need us to do, then?"

"I'm going to need to take a look at one of the Helter-Skelters, without interruption, in order to determine if it is indeed Charles' work. Can you and your cadre of bodyguards provide that?"

"Without a doubt."

"Excellent. I'll ready my tools." At that, he rises, and hurries off towards his own apartment.

I suppose that I should check in on the others.

'Caesar, how goes the home front?' I send.

'I'll tell you in person, I was already heading up anyways.' he replies.

He returns to the apartment only a minute or two after I contacted him, red cloak trailing behind him, and then takes the seat Frankenstein just vacated. Anderson continues his vigil over the radio, still keeping an eye on us, while Asterios is still sleeping in the corner.

"So, Master, shall we compare notes?" he calls in greeting.

"I led off last time, so its your turn to start us off," I inform him. "How're the defenses going?"

"Quite well, actually. Paracelsus has informed me that they would quite swiftly end the life of anyone who dared to set foot in our domain." He waves a hand dismissively. "But, more importantly, I've managed to win over the complex's residents. They've generally embraced us as their protectors, and, as a result, a sort of communal spirit has formed, under our direction. By pooling our resources, and enforcing eminent domain on one or two hoarders, we've managed to gather enough food to last us a week. A month, if we really stretch it out."

"I'm.,. honestly surprised that you managed to talk them around. I don't think I gave them the best first impression."

"Oh, trust me, you didn't." Caesar says, with an undercurrent of suppressed laughter. "But that actually worked in our favor. Since you came off as an unreasonable, unstoppable force of nature that was at least slightly insane, I could operate as the softer touch. I get to look like the reasonable one, and like I really care about them and am on their side, while the unspoken threat that if I can't manage to properly negotiate, you'll get involved still lingers. Your complete lack of anything resembling tact or restraint has been a huge boon, actually."

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment or not." I mutter. "So, basically, I stay uninvolved, and you keep them happy and all working on the same page?"

"Precisely. Mostly because I presented you as a bit of an unstable loose cannon."

"Yeah, yeah, good cop, bad cop." I sigh. "All right, my turn."

I go over the events to date, and Caesar mostly remains silent.

Finally, once my summary of our recent engagements, and my thoughts on the matter, concludes, he speaks up.

"So, you've disposed of Paracelsus, and neutralized Jack the Ripper." he mulls it over for a second. "And now, you're aiming to shut down the Helter Skelters." He sighs and shakes his head. "I'm still not entirely sure I like this."

"Why?"

"I feel like..." he sighs. "Never mind. Just paranoia, really. Our two sources, Paracelsus and Frankenstein, are just a mite too shady for my liking."

"Fair enough." I agree. "But it's not like there's a plethora of intel to back them up."

"What about the Mage's Association?" Anderson interjects from where he sits. "I rather wished to gather intelligence from there, and if any group in this era could survive under the Fog, it would be them. They might be able to confirm the stories we've been given, and may prove valuable allies."

Huh. To tell the truth, I haven't much liked what I've heard of the Association so far in my time at Chaldea, but I suppose that if there was ever a time for them to step up and actually use those Mysteries they've been compulsively hoarding for generations, it would be now. "It's worth a shot, I suppose."

"Excellent!" Anderson agrees in that smooth baritone of his. "I will wish to accompany you, of course."

"Fine by me. We'll add it to the itinerary after we're done with Frankenstein's examination of the Helter-Skelter." I think it over for a second. "Radio Jekyll and Mordred. Tell them what we're planning on doing, and ask if they're interested in joining us."

"Will do."

I turn back towards Caesar. "You alright with this?"

"Yes, actually. Same team composition as before?"

"Yep. Georgios' EX-Level Magic Resistance could definitely come in handy. Same goes for Cursed Arm's scouting capabilities, and Asterios' navigation skills. You fine with Cu and Paracelsus?"

"Yes. In all honesty, I could probably get by with just Paracelsus, but why chance it?"

"True. Okay then. Let's wake Mash up, tell Frankenstein and the others about the plan change, and get this show on the road!"

---​

The Helter Skelter is easily secured, and Frankenstein's analysis of it is soon over, marked by him chopping the unfortunate machine in half with a cry of inarticulate rage.

"So... do you know who's behind these things now?" I ask from where I stand behind him, as the Servants run interference.

"Yes." he practically growls, turning his unnatural yellow gaze on me. "I know exactly who's making these damn things. The craftsmanship is unmistakable."

"Okay. So, what's got you so nettled, then?"

He grabs my head and drags me forwards, to look at the now-smashed innards of the Helter-Skelter. "Do you see this?"

"Yes, I see it, now could you let me go? This position is very uncomfortable."

He releases me, and I fall flat on my face, narrowly avoiding the jagged bits of broken robot as he turns and paces angrily, making a noise like a boiling teakettle. "It! Should! Not! Work!"

"Well, obviously, you chopped it in half." I grumble as I get up to my feet.

"No, it shouldn't have worked even before I chopped it in half!" Frankenstein rants, gesturing wildly towards the already dissipating fragments of the Helter Skelter. "That utterly ridiculous atrocity against mechanical science was steam powered."

"Wait, what? How did that work, then?"

"IT. SHOULDN'T." he growls, kicking the curb so hard it breaks. "In fact, the entire thing is a massive exercise in inefficiency and terrible design choices. The servos and complex operations necessary, not to mention the difference engine that it would require to function in combat, wouldn't fit in its frame. Beyond that, since it's steam powered, it requires a constant source of heat. It doesn't have the space for a proper boiler, in fact, it should simply have run out of fuel in seconds! The only way to make this thing function would be to somehow invent some kind of device that warps the fabric of spacetime to make it bigger on the inside, and if you can do that, why the flying FUCK are you trying to make automated soldiers with STEAM POWER?"

"So, it's magic." I summarize.

"EXACTLY!" he roars. "It functions exclusively on hand-waving aside the very laws of physics, and is easily the biggest technological dead-end I've ever seen! And there's only one inventor in all the world so singularly obsessed with the scientific cul-de-sac that is steam power that he'd mass-produce an army of steam-driven automata, even if they could only function through BLATANT ACTS OF WIZARDRY! Charles Babbage."

"I take it that you two don't exactly get along?"

"No. No we did not." Frankenstein growls, hands tight around his axe. "And he's dead, I went to the cemetery he's buried in to piss on his grave myself, which means that he actually qualified as a Heroic Spirit." at that point, he just devolves in pure angrish.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, we don't really use steam power for anything anymore by my time." I offer up, which makes his face brighten considerably.

"Really?"

"Yep. Almost entirely obsolete. It got outpaced by fossil fuels and electricity in the early 20th century."

"So I was right." he gloats, grinning like a loon. "And, better yet, I get to rub it in his face! Never mind what I said before, this is perfect."

"Glad you're feeling better." I say, patting him on the back. 'Alright gents, pack the battle line up, we're heading forwards to the Association.'

"I say!" a familiar voice calls. "That was a splendid fight you chaps put up! You actually look like you know how things work around here!"

I turn, and see the one and only William Shakespeare making his way down the street, towards the rightmost of the two lines of battle, the one manned by Galahad and Cursed Arm.

"I mention your apparently excellent command of the situation, because I'm slightly confused, and would really like to know just what the Hell is going on right now!" the Bard of Avon snaps, looking quite thoroughly strung out.

'He might be a plant from Project Demonic Fog.' Galahad sends mentally.

'You really think they'd bother? It's Shakespeare. Besides, I can't really see him signing on with the villain's team unless they had a really interesting story to them, and I somehow doubt that's the case here.'

'Fine. Then do we really have to put up with him?' Galahad wheedles.

'He's currently a helpless noncombatant. You really sure you can turn your back on him, Sir Knight?'

He stops, mulling it over for a second or two, before sighing. 'I hate when you're right.'

I grin and walk forward. "Well met and welcome aboard, Mr. Shakespeare! We'd be happy to tell you what we've managed to deduce so far, but we are on a schedule, and we really do need to get to the Mages' Association as swiftly as possible. You're welcome to join us, though."

"I do believe I shall take you up on that kind offer, Mister..."

"Flynn."

"Ah! An Irishman! I wouldn't have guessed from that accent."

"American, actually. Shall we talk as we walk?"

---​

The trek to the Association's headquarters in the British Museum takes time, more than enough time for me to get Shakespeare up to speed. With that taken care of, I redirect my attention towards Galahad.

'So, why don't you like Shakespeare?' I ask.

'You mean aside from the fact that he's annoying?' Galahad replies with a snort.

'You don't refuse to save people.' I reply. 'You strike out against them if you consider them unjust, but I don't think I've ever seen you refuse to save an ally or an innocent. You don't do murder by inaction from what I've observed of you. So, if you're initially refusing to defend Shakespeare, in spite of him pretty much fitting the archetype of people you're supposed to be protecting to a T, then it's not just because you find him annoying.'

He doesn't reply for a long moment. 'So. I guess you do actually know me pretty well.'

'You're the Servant I spend the most time with. Of course I actually paid attention to how you behave.' I shoot back indignantly. 'Although I'll admit that most of my initial observation of you was so I'd have some advanced warning if you ever snapped and tried to kill me.' Right, time to get back on topic. 'So. What's your beef with Shakespeare?'

'Fine. If you really want to know, I dislike him because he decided to write Mash out of his play.' Galahad snaps, his shoulders tensing. 'She has enough self-esteem issues without that over-exposed hack adding onto the pile, no thanks to you.'

'Okay, I'll definitely have to talk to him about that, but hold on for a sec. What self-esteem issues?'

'You know damn well-' his angry tirade is cut off by Mordred cheerfully hailing us from where he stands besides Dr. Jekyll, waving in greeting at Galahad. 'We'll finish this later.'

He breaks off ahead to greet his fellow knight in turn, leaving me to contemplate the point he'd raised. Why would Mash have self-esteem issues?

Well, I mean, there was that bit where she lost her Servant abilities, and had to hand over her body to someone who did her job better than she did, effectively taking away her means of contributing to Chaldea's war effort. And how I haven't really paid much attention to her since... well, ever. But that's probably fine, we've only ever been friendly acquaintances at most. Although, now that I think about it, she does look like I just slapped her every time I accidentally call her by Galahad's name. But it's not like I do that all that often! It's only... let me see... almost three times a day, now that I think about it. For the last month.

You know, when I put it that way, I can kind of see Galahad's point. Also, I might be a terrible person.

So yeah. I definitely need to spend more time with Mash, and I might actually be the absolute worst. But I have to set that aside for now.

The Association awaits.

 

[Darko]

I've got 10 bucks that says they'll try to dissect him when they find out he's a time traveler.