How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

“You know,” I say thoughtfully. “I’ve never actually been to the top of the Washington Monument before.”

“Really?” Fionn asks.

“Yeah. Lived in the DC area my whole life, but I’ve never been up here.”

We’re in the uppermost chamber of the Washington Monument, just me, Fionn, Galahad, and Medea. Galahad, Fionn, and I are just standing around waiting while Medea sets up the scrying matrix and activates her Territory Creation.

“That’s a shame.” Galahad offers. “The view from up here is incredible.”

It really is. It’s incredibly high up, and you can see the teeming Celtic hordes as they camp out in the swamp. The only real buildings are the monuments and the White House, though. I actually think I might be able to see my house from here! Or, at least where my house will be built in a few hundred years.

This- Being here hurts worse than anything in the Singularity thus far. Being here, being somewhere so familiar, it leaves me feeling like I can just hop in the car and drive, and in less than an hour I’ll be at a painfully familiar house, painted blue, on a street I know like the back of my hand. But I can’t. I can’t go home now. Maybe not ever.

“Hey, Fionn, do you know why the monuments are all here?” I ask, latching onto the obvious plot holes out of a single-minded longing to think about literally anything else. “Is it some sort of nonsense from human cognition, like, people always picture D.C. with all the monuments, even if technically the whole city doesn’t even exist yet? Because it doesn’t. We’re in Articles of Confederation years, and the city’s existence was approved during George Washington’s presidency. The terrain is shit. Without the incentive of it being the nation’s capital, there’s really no reason for people to be here.”

“True enough,” Fionn concedes with a grin. “But… well, are you entirely sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” I say irritably, my curiosity well and truly engaged now. “I mean, it really doesn’t make sense.”

“Medb had the monuments built and made sure to line all of them up exactly the way they looked in the proper timeline,” Fionn reports.

“Seriously? How’d she do that, especially so fast?” I ask. “And why would she even bother?”

“Well, she had her druids use their magic to accelerate the construction. As for the labor she used to build it, well…” FIonn scratches the back of his head.

“She used slave labor, didn’t she?”

“Yes.” Fionn sighs, looking really uncomfortable. “Honestly, none of us were all that on board with it except for her. Just felt wrong. But, well, she already treats everyone around her like she owns them, so it really wasn’t that much of a departure from the norm.”

“The more I learn of this woman, the less I regret that we are planning her assassination,” Galahad notes drily. “And considering that the first thing I learned of her was that she was the leader behind a campaign of genocide, it’s actually quite remarkable that she managed to make my opinion of her even worse.” He pauses. “But you still haven’t answered Flynn’s second question. Why’d she bother building the monuments?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” Fionn asks again.

“YES!” Galahad and I shout at the same time.

“She wanted to use them as set pieces in her victory orgy once she’s finished wiping away the last remnants of the United States of America, and then never clean them and move to another capital, leaving them as a monument of shame to her fallen foes while she builds a new nation.” Fionn says, before sighing as he looks at our now-green faces. “I did warn you.”

That’s… That’s just wrong on so many levels.

“Command room’s done!” Medea calls, and Galahad and I both eagerly leap for the distraction.

It’s been set up according to my specifications, multiple individual scrying matrices operating independently, allowing me to coordinate and keep an eye on all my Servants independently.

“You really outdid yourself, teacher,” I say, already checking on the various images.

“Of course I did, Apprentice,” she preens as she says it. “I am one of the greatest magi to ever live, after all.”

“All right. Fionn? Where are our targets?”

He sucks his thumb. “Cu is currently in the War Room. Medb is bathing.” He looks shiftily from side to side. “I’ll just… monitor the situation, shall I?”

“Ugh. Fine.”

He grins as he goes back to sucking his thumb, and I turn back to the screens.

“Teacher, set Matrices One through Four to observe the War Room, and Matrices Five through Eight to observe Operative Green Aardvark.”

“Which one is he?” she asks, brow furrowed.

I sigh. “Yan Qing.”

“Alright, on it. I’m still not sure why you insisted on all those ridiculous code names, though.”

“To preserve OpSec. Like I said in the briefing, we only have one shot at this, we cannot afford to screw it up.”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes and starts adjusting the scrying matrices.

While she does so, I focus on my mental link to Yan. ‘Green Aardvark, are you ready to commence the operation?’

There’s a moment of silence on Yan’s end. ‘Oh. Is that me?’

‘Yes, that’s you! We covered it on the trip here! Five times!’

‘I mean, honestly, I just stopped listening after you had that back and forth argument with yourself over whether or not presenting ourselves as a surprise inspection was too cliché, and then had a panic attack over it.’

‘We’re on a mission to assassinate one of the most legendary badasses to ever badass, and also Medb, assigned to us by George Washington himself, with my country’s very existence and even the fate of the world at stake!’ I snap, feeling my blood pressure rising already. ‘I’d like to see you stay calm if you were the one running all of this!’

‘Okay, Boss. No need to bite my head off. It’s just that I’ve never actually really seen you get all that overwhelmed on a mission before.’

‘Yeah. It’s just… this is my home that we’re saving, right now. And I usually don’t have nearly as much time to think about all the different ways my plan could go wrong.’ I sigh. ‘It’s fine. I’m better now. You ready to go? Got the package and the condom?’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

I groan and push my glasses up to pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘Fine. Do you have the cookies and the earrings?’

‘Oh. Yeah.’

‘Good. Then get into disguise and make your way to the War Room. We’re beginning Phase One.’

On the screen, a figure identical in both form and mannerisms to Fionn Mac Cumhaill begins to navigate his way through the White House. The act is so spot on that if the genuine article wasn’t still sucking his thumb in the corner and giggling perversely, I might have actually believed that the Fionn making his way to the War Room was the real deal.

…although I kind of wish I could believe that. Sitting and watching the King of the Fianna giggle like a twelve-year old while he uses his literal omniscience to watch a woman bathe is just depressing on so many levels.

Huh. You know, I was kind of thinking of this as a heist movie the entire time I was planning it out. It’s kind of weird, though. I keep expecting some sort of unfolding plan montage to kick in, but-

---

“I’ll be honest, General, I’ve been planning this out for a while. It’s pretty clear that we can’t beat the corrupted Cu Chulainn in a straight fight, and while ganging up on him might work, I don’t want to risk it.” The others at the table look at me impatiently. “There’s a point to this, I swear. Now, fortunately, like most people on the Throne of Heroes, Cu Chulainn died. Even more fortunately, he died due to a weakness we can exploit. Clan Calatin, a group composed of the family members of all the people he killed in his short and exceptionally bloody career, tricked him into a situation where, no matter what he did, he would break one of his geasas. The two geasas he was caught by were that he swore to never pass up a free meal, and also to never eat the meet of a dog.”

“You want us to kill a dog?” Billy asks incredulously.

“Yeah, I’m not okay with that either,” Fionn agrees. “I love dogs! Some of my brothers were dogs!” Everyone just stares at him. “…It’s a long story.”

“Don’t worry. We’re not offering him a meal of dog meat.” I say, which gets a sigh of relief from our two objectors. “Instead, we’re poisoning him.”

---

-I guess that’d just be ridiculous. Wait, why do I feel like I just missed something?

Ah, never mind. I return my attention to Yan as he goes to the War Room, stopping to ask a soldier where Cu is along the way, just to keep up appearances. He has the basket of cookies tucked under one arm.

Finally, however, he reaches the door to the War Room.

There’s no one else in corridor, so Yan takes the moment to steel himself, while, inside, Dark Cu paces about the map table, muttering to himself.

My Assassin takes a deep breath, pulls one of the cookies out of the basket, and takes the tiniest nibble. Then, when he doesn’t keel over stone dead after a minute, he sighs in relief and takes a few more bites, now confident that his protections actually work, before pushing open the door, his mannerisms once more completely identical to Fionn’s.

I already tested the unicorn horn method on myself, but it’s still a relief to see that it worked. Still, convincing him was-

---

“All right.” I look over between the members of my assassination team: Cursed Arm, the freshly resummoned Hassan of Serenity, Yan Qing, and Medea. Georgios and Medusa are staying on to serve as our transportation. “The basics are that we have Yan impersonate Fionn, and offer Evil Cu some cookies, handmade by Serenity and thoroughly infused with her poison. Yes, Yan?”

He lowers his hand. “Won’t he be suspicious?”

“Most likely, yes. He can still refuse the food, even if it’ll break his geasa, which will just mean we’re in for a ridiculously hard fight, even if we’ll probably win. Which is why you’ll be eating the cookies first.”

“I’m sorry, WHAT?” Yan Qing asks incredulously, and Serenity looks to share his sentiments. “You want me to eat the poison cookies?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already figured out a way for you to eat them and survive,” I assure him, pulling my own unicorn horn out of my antidote pouch. “See this? It’s a unicorn horn. When it’s even partly inserted into a specific vessel, be it food, drink, or even a human being, it absorbs the poison into itself. It’s how I was dealing with all the poisoning attempts towards the end.”

“So, I use that like an epi-pen?”

“No, we use it like a piercing. Medea and I have tested it, and it turns out that it actually works as well when used as a form of prevention as it does when used as a cure. We do that, and no amount of poison will be able to do you in.”

“All right!” Yan cheers. Serenity, for her part, has gone from disapproving to… hopeful? “So, how do we do this?”

“Well, that’s the hard part,” I admit reluctantly. “We have to stick it in you. It only works when it’s inserted into the vessel it’s purifying, so we need to stick it in like a piercing, so it stays inside you.” I brighten up considerably. “The good news is, since you’re a Servant, your biology is highly redundant. You only really need your Spirit Core to stay alive, so we can stick up to five of these puppies in you.”

He takes one look at the foot-and-a-half long horn in my hands, and then runs away screaming.

“Oh, come on!”

---

-one hell of a doozy. And there’s that feeling again. Weird.

Yan opens the door, and Cu turns to face him, his face dark and his shoulders tense. “Fionn. You’re alive. I had thought you perished with your troops in Karna’s last stand.”

“No, but it was close,” Yan says. “I only survived because I was fighting the Master of Chaldea at the time. His Shielder Servant’s defensive Noble Phantasm covered me only because I was in close proximity at the time.”

“And Diarmuid?”

“Got fired, I’m sad to say.”

“Of course you are,” Cu says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve failed me once. Try not to do it again.”

“Understood.” Yan holds up the basket. “Want a cookie?”

Dark Cu hesitates. “Where’d you get those?”

“Ran into a bakery a few hours before I got here. Think the owner’s been bribing the troops with baked goods to keep them from killing her,” Yan lies, munching on another cookie. “Look, I’m just asking to be nice, if you don’t want one, I’ll finish them off myself.”

“No, no, I’ll take one,” Cu backpedals, snagging one from the basket and taking half of it in a single bite. “Ugh.”

“What?”

“These taste terrible.”

“I know, right?” Yan says, improvising like a champ. “They’re easily in the top ten worst baked goods I’ve ever tasted, but I know for a fact that they’re the only reason that baker’s still alive! They’re terrible, but at the same time, I just can’t stop eating them because I keep expecting to find some sort of redeeming quality to them.”

“Huh.” Dark Cu eats the rest of his cookie. “Hand me another one, will you? I was only accepting because of my geasa before, but now I legitimately have to find out whether I need to execute a few soldiers for the good of the gene pool.”

They sit down and start eating their way through the cookies.

“I think she used salt instead of sugar,” Yan observes, munching on his fifth cookie. “And… vinegar for some reason.”

“True,” Evil Cu notes. “It’s strange, though. The more I eat of them, the more I pick up on this… bizarre aftertaste. It’s sweet, but also almost sickening, in a way.” He coughs. “Huh. I think they’re disagreeing with me. I didn’t…” Then he keels over, stone dead.

Yan calmly stands, closes the basket and leaves his half-eaten cookie on top of it, and then books it. Behind him, Dark Cu’s corpse dissolves into glowing motes.

‘Excellent work, Green Aardvark. Rendezvous with Blue Badger outside the bathing complex and proceed with Phase 2.’

‘Can I at least take these spikes out of my back?’

‘Better to play it safe, really, since you’ll be working with Blue Badger.’

‘Right.’ He pauses. ‘Who’s Blue Badger again?’

‘Just go.’

He doesn’t reply, so I switch my focus to Serenity.

‘Blue Badger, do you copy? King Mutt has been neutralized; we are now proceeding to Phase 2.’

‘Understood, Mission Control,’ Serenity sends back without a hint of mockery. ‘Should I proceed solo, and attempt to neutralize Queen Bitch myself?’

‘Negative, Blue Badger. Green Aardvark has been dispatched to provide you with backup. Wait for him, and then, once he’s there, proceed with the neutralization.’

‘Understood. Blue Badger out.’

Well, I think Serenity just became my favorite Assassin.

I turn to Fionn, still sitting in the corner and sucking his thumb. He’s not giggling anymore. “Fionn? Things have been going smoothly so far. We’re about due for something to go catastrophically off the rails. How’s Medb?”

“I think she felt her corrupted Hound die,” Fionn says, pulling his thumb out of his mouth. “She stiffened and started crying when it happened, and then started getting dressed. She grabbed her Grail, too.”

“Shit.” ‘B Team, you’re up! Time to drop the subtlety and just fucking kill her! King Mutt is down, find Queen Bitch, drop her in the Domus Aurea, and end this!’ I turn to Medea, only to find she’s already tuning the scrying matrices onto Medb. She gives me a nod, and I smile. Regardless of whether I can trust her in the long-term, at least for now my teacher’s got my back. If only so she can stab it when she wants to.

The pools all show Medb, with the Grail cupped between her hands, staring into its depths. Then she looks straight at me through the scrying matrix.

“You won this round. But this isn’t over.” She grins. “I wish Thomas Edison had this Grail right now.”

It vanishes with a pop, just as the B Team breaks through the wall.

I sit down hard. “Fionn, what will Edison do with the Grail?”

“He’ll use it to move America to an alternate timeline where it can prosper, destroying the rest of the world in the process.” Fionn says.

“Immediately?”

“No. He’ll want to kill you first, for killing Karna.” In the scrying matrix, Medb vanishes into Nero’s Nobe Phantasm, along with the B-Team.

“Then let’s get moving,” I say, already planning out our journey. “We’ll need to hurry to get there in time.”

“I won’t be going with you,” Fionn says, his face grim.

“What?” I ask incredulously. “We need you! You’re honestly the only reason this entire plan went as smoothly as it did!”

“Yes, well, Medb, powered by the Grail, was the one who summoned me. Without her around, all the Servants she summoned will fade away. Including me and Diarmuid.” Fionn grins, as the B-Team reappears on the screen, and he begins to fade. “Still. It was fun while it lasted. Take care of yourself, Flynn.”

And then he’s gone. The man who was functionally carrying our entire side is gone. And we’re an entire country away from where we need to be.

Well, can’t say I didn’t see something like this coming. Still, fuck you, Medb.

 

Once Medb’s been dealt with, we hit the road again. No time to waste and giving a Caster Servant extra prep time is just asking for trouble.

We stop to make camp up in the Appalachian Mountains, that night, Galahad having made it abundantly clear that if I push myself to near death again by riding twenty-four/seven, he’ll make me wish I was dead.

Of course, it’s only when I’m settling down for the night, staring up into the heavens, that Nero approaches me.

“So. I have slain Medb by my own blade, irrumator,” she says by way of greeting, her arms akimbo as she smugly looms over me. “Do you still deny my prowess?”

“No, no. I suppose I have to admit that you have at least some measure of martial skill,” I concede with a sigh. “Congratulations on your first legitimate, honorable kill in a fair fight.”

“How dare you!” Nero snaps, her right eye twitching. “I have slain countless Celtic warriors in open combat since this Singularity began.”

“And I’ve seen none of that,” I reply with a grin. “For all I know, they just fell on their swords to escape your singing. After all, I’m intimately aware of how your voice makes me long for death.”

“And you’re hardly one to talk,” Nero says, looking flushed. “You haven’t killed a single enemy! Just directed your Servants as they did the work you could never manage for yourself.”

Okay, yeah. That one actually hurts. I don’t let it show, though. “True. But then again, I’m the Master. Dishonorable cowardice is kind of expected of me. Coming from a Servant though? Never having personally defeated any of your enemies is just all kinds of sad. Even Jason fought a few of his own battles.”

“The Imperatrix is not obligated to sully her hands with martial matters,” Nero says primly. “And besides, often I engaged the enemy as a gladiator, and raced chariots! In no area of human accomplishment was I lacking!”

“Congratulations on showing off just how well you can outperform slaves terrified of so much as scratching you instead of actually ruling, then,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “While delegating your actual work to other people so you could keep on playing the people’s Heracles. While Boudica was burning cities to the ground, you partied it up in Rome. Even Claudius went out on campaign. Even Caligula went out on campaign. But not Nero, no. She’s too important to fight and bleed besides the men who are the only reason she has any power.” I snort. “Actually, now that I think of it, the only people you actually killed on your own in your life were Poppaea and yourself.”

Suddenly, my head is back against the ground, with cold steel against my throat, and Nero on top of me, outright fury in her eyes. “Flynn. I’ll bear your insults, fair enough. But if you ever again imply that I would ever raise a hand against MY WIFE? I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“So, I suppose you really did love her,” I say, staring up into her eyes. They’re the most remarkable shade of green. “I suppose you had to have something admirable about you.” I sigh. “I’m sorry that I repeated those rumors to hurt you. And I’m sorry for your loss. Despite what Suetonius wrote, it was fairly obvious that you loved her dearly.”

“Hmph.” She looks down at me haughtily, the pressure of Aestus Estus on my throat lessening slightly. I’m suddenly far more aware of the weight of her body on top of mine, still staring into her eyes, and… NO! GODDAMMIT, DO NOT GET A BONER FROM THIS! “Apology accepted; I suppose. It’s not really like you to back down, though. Almost… disappointing.”

“Thank you.” I say, desperately trying to think of literally anything besides the fact that Nero is on top of me right now. “Now, could you put the sword away? And get off me?”

She tilts her head. “No. I don’t think I will. You’re much more pleasant when you’re beneath me.”

Her breath is in my face, our faces only a few inches apart, the blade between our throats, and-

Robin clears his throat awkwardly, and Nero jumps off of me, leaving me simultaneously relieved and disappointed. “Okay, yeah, I’m not entirely sure what I just walked in on, but we’ve got a visitor, and we need both of you guys on deck. So, well, just pack up… whatever the Hell this is, and come up to join us.”

Nero gets up and walks away, her cheeks slightly flushed, but other than that, not acting like anything even slightly out of the ordinary just happened.

I get to my feet unsteadily, still feeling whiplashed from… whatever the hell just happened. Robin clears his throat uncomfortably.

“What?”

“Err… are you going to go to the meeting like that?”

“Like wha…?” I look down.

Oh. Yeah, that would be awkward. Come on, think unsexy thoughts!

My entire family is dead.

Huh, that was easy. And now I’m depressed. There’s just no winning when Nero’s involved, is there?

“All right, lead the way,” I say, turning to Robin, who turned away from me for some reason.

“Oh. That was faster than I expected.” He sets off walking, presumably in the direction of the meeting.

“Yeah, turns out I have a vast plethora of decidedly un-arousing things to think about.” I follow him.

“Wait, I thought you were, um…” he makes a jerking off motion with his right hand.

“Yeah, no.” The conversation lapses into an awkward silence for a few minutes.

“I mean, no man would blame you,” Robin says once the silence grows unbearable.

“Well, yes, but whenever I’m in a Singularity, there’s always a team of technicians running support. They have a constant readout of my vitals and can pretty much see what I see.” I snort. “Jerking off is one thing. Doing it in front of all my coworkers is another thing entirely.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Robin says awkwardly, and the uncomfortable silence is reborn.

After another minute of walking, I see the clearing with most of the Servants in it.

“Oh, thank God.” Robin and I exclaim simultaneously, before looking at each other.

“So, we never speak of this again?” I propose hopefully.

“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”

All right let’s see who’s here. Galahad, Yan Qing, Serenity, Robin (obviously,) Billy, Geronimo, Georgios, Medusa, Medea, and, last but not least, Nero. She’s not looking at me, and I pointedly return the favor.

Huh. We’re missing Cursed Arm. Let’s see… the Assassin’s were supposed to be running in-camp security, with two, the Hassans, patrolling, and one, Yan Qing, serving as my unseen bodyguard. Apparently, Nero pinning me to the ground with a sword to my throat doesn’t rate an intervention from him though. The fucking traitor.

“We’re short an Assassin,” I point out. “Where’s Cursed Arm?”

“Keeping an eye on the man who wants to meet with us,” Geronimo says. “Good to have you finally join us, Flynn. Your Servants tried to contact you through the mental link, but you didn’t seem to hear them. So, I sent Robin to get you.”

“Yes, thank you for that. He saved me from a rather unpleasant fate.” Nero flips me off. “So, who’s the interviewee?”

“Arjuna of the Pandavas. Formerly an ally of the Celts.” Geronimo’s face is dour. “All the same, he says he wishes to join us. According to him, Edison has resummoned Karna, and we’ll need his help to defeat him.”

“Is there any reason we can’t trust him?” I ask.

“No. It was clear from the start that he only joined up with the Celts to get a proper fight against his greatest rival. But, at the same time, working with a man willing to aid in the destruction of my people for something as petty as a fight rubs me the wrong way,” he says, shoulders tense. “Are we simply to forgive him, and cast his crimes beneath the rug?”

“Trust me, I completely understand.” I sigh and shrug in a ‘what can you do?’ sort of way. “But, at the same time, I don’t think we’ll be lucky enough to kill Karna the same way twice. We’ll have to accept Arjuna’s help.”

“Please!” Nero interjects. “Why would you need this dishonorable cur when you have me?” She strikes a pose.

“You heard her,” I say, with a note of apologetic resignation. “If we don’t take up Arjuna’s offer, our best chance at pulling off a win is Nero.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“No,” I say, utterly deadpan. “How about we put it to a vote?”

“That sounds utterly foolish,” Nero says with a huff.

“Hey, when in Rome, I kowtowed to your inbred ass, now that we’re in America, you can return the favor and give democracy a shot.”

“Fine,” she growls. “All in favor of-“

“O-kay, how about, before the two of you turn this meeting into another of your petty bickering sessions as part of the absurd, mutual-loathing-fueled mating rituals endemic to your specific breed of idiot, we all agree that I should be the one that manages how the voting is held,” Geronimo interrupts. “All in favor?”

Everyone aside from Nero and Medea raises their hand, including me. Sometimes the only way to maintain respect even in the face of petty outbursts is to admit your failings, and I’m more than man enough for that.

Kind of curious why Medea didn’t vote for it, though.

“All right then, it’s agreed,” Geronimo announces, before conducting the votes. In the end, Medea, Robin, Billy, Serenity, Geronimo, and I all vote in favor of letting Arjuna join us. Nero and Georgios both vote against, while Yan and Medusa abstain.

“So. He’s in.” Geronimo doesn’t look entirely happy with the verdict, but Arjuna’s still too useful to pass up.

And so, the Archer is led into the camp.

“Lord Arjuna,” I say in greeting, dipping my head respectfully, and then looking at him for the first time.

He’s tall and willowy, with dark skin and curly black hair that both contrast sharply against his pure white robes and gloves. But what sticks out to me is-

“You’re cleanshaven.”

“I beg your pardon?” Arjuna asks, sounding slightly confused.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that all the tapestries and paintings always depict you with a handlebar moustache,” I explain. “Were you summoned as a younger version of yourself?”

“Ah no. Actually, I used to have a moustache like the ones my brothers had, but I was told it looked utterly terrible on me, so after the Kurukshetra War I began shaving regularly.”

“Huh. And is Karna the same?” I ask curiously.

“Oh, yes, although he shaved his moustache after he met Duryodhana. He really didn’t have the face to pull it off. Or the lineage,” Arjuna adds the last bit in a dark, resentful undertone.

“Well, unexpected lack of facial hair aside, we’re glad to have you with us,” I say, extending my hand. After a moment, he shakes it.

“I suppose that’s fine. Don’t get in my way, and we won’t have any problems.”

Dick.

---

The journey continues. We don’t run into any of the other Resistance forces, including Washington, Lincoln, and Bathory. Instead, once we cross the Mississippi, we begin running into more and more of Edison’s discount Helter Skelters. I send Serenity back to Chaldea and bring out Arash to help us avoid them.

Nero and Arjuna are both avoiding me, so instead I keep to Galahad’s company, and continue to coordinate our travels.

Finally, though, after a grueling month of travel, constantly skirting around patrols and fighting off robots, we get a lead on Edison’s location.

Unfortunately, it’s not exactly the sort of lead any of us was expecting.

---

We start out early in the morning that day, and skirt around three patrols before it’s noon. I’m looking at the map, trying to find out where to look next, when Arash shouts out, “INCOMING!”

That’s all the warning I get before a massive Helter-Sketer with rockets strapped to its back lands in front of us, shaking the earth with the force of its impact.

The Servants back up and fall into combat stances, while I fall back behind Galahad. Before us, the huge robot rises from the crater it just made.

And then it points one massive hand at me, the speaker on its chest crackling to life.

“MASTER of Chaldea, I bet you’re hungering for an epic showdown! THE STUFF OF LEGENDS, WITH THE WHOLE WORLD AT STAKE!”

“I mean, not really?” I say from behind Galahad. “Personally, I mostly just want to run into my opponents unarmed, unarmored, and asleep, with not a bodyguard in sight. So, less the stuff of legends, more the stuff of mildly amusing historical anecdotes.”

“HA-HA, and DON’T I KNOW IT!” the voice continues. “FORTUNATELY FOR YOU, I KNOW JUST THE PLACE FOR YOU TO SATE YOUR LUST FOR EPIC BATTLE!”

“Which I don’t have, I just said- Oh. This is a recording. I’m arguing with a recording.”

“’WHERE?’ YOU ASK?” the recording asks, confirming my assumption. “WELL, sonny-boy, TODAY’S YOU LUCKY DAY, BECAUSE I’M GONNA TELL YOU! AT THE HEART OF THE LOVELY CITY OF DENVER, SITS THE MASSIVE EDISON STADIUM! AND WITHIN THAT STADIUM, LEGENDS WILL DUKE IT OUT, TO DECIDE THE FATE OF THE WORLD! SO, HURRY ON UP AND GET THERE, YA MOOK, BEFORE EDISON’S PLAN SUCCEEDS!”

The enormous Helter-Skelter strikes a pose. “AFTER ALL, KARNAMANIA’S RUNNING WIIIILD, BROTHER!” And then, its message apparently delivered, it explodes, leaving me with so many questions.

“Okay,” I say after spending a few moments just staring at the blast crater. “Can anyone tell me WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?”