A different kind of whale (Worm/FGO-based Gamer) Chapter 8

January 4th

“Mmmmm~... hmmm~.” Elizabeth hummed cheerfully the tune of her ol’ reliable under her nose as she skipped along the streets of the downtown Brockton Bay. The city was kinda dreary, in her honest opinion, but then, she did remember the flash and splendour of Millennium Capital and Mare Aurum, the almost overwhelming decadence of Vegas and even the sunny carefreeness of Hawai’i. Okay, so maybe that last part was really unfair, the island was tropics in the middle of a summer and Brockton Bay was… decidedly not.

Still, compared to the wild and fantastical locales Elizabeth’s memories told her she had been allowed to be summoned to in the past… Future? The dates involved made her head hurt from thinking too hard on the details. The point being, Brockton Bay was dreadfully boooring in comparison. The Asian portion was, to the credit of the baron running the place, much better in that regard, even if portions of it did remind Elizabeth of that damnable vixen who so delighted in visiting utter humiliation upon Elizabeth in one of those sets of memories.

She flexed her fingers on instinct, the claw-like nails of her hands pinching gently into the skin of her palms as she imagined wrapping them around that neck and squeezing. Or, or, or maybe inviting her to Csejte’s baths and... Nononono, bad thoughts, bad. You’re supposed to be better nowadays, Elizabeth.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth stopped her happy spring and began a more normal walk. Her mood was a bit soured anyway. Best to stop thinking of the fox before she managed to ruin her day without even being present.

[Ah, but with how Master’s power worked, she could show up and usurp her at any moment, couldn’t she.]

She felt her tail unwrap itself from around her waist, rustling the cloth of the dress and stopped it with an irritated click of the tongue. Deerlet’s little magic item that hid her extra-cute features was… it was, she supposed. Elizabeth had never been summoned in a normal Grail War, both Moon Cell and Chaldea were unique in their operations so having a few extra bits wasn’t the most eye catching thing. On Earth Bet, on the other hand, the extra bits were a feature of the stand out and she promised Deerlet she would keep low-key until her debut. Even if it grated to keep down.

Deerlet in general was… weird. Closer to Ritsuka, if she were to be honest, if not quite as open to cooperation with more… unstable cases, as Gilles’ card had shown her. And yet, they were willing to entertain her.

[She had to keep being a good girl. If she fucked up and managed to slide back, she doubted they would offer a second chance like Hakuno did.]

She paused as another tune invaded her personal space. The cheery, kinda cheap stuff that typically accompanied adverts. Tilting her head, she focused on the other side of the street, a little bit ahead of her where some sort of small crowd, primarily parents with children, crowded around a shop, in front of which some woman seemed to be doing a puppet show using oversized animal plushies. Coming closer, it came apparent that the woman in question was an obvious cape, with a rather well done blonde wig and porcelain mask sculpted into an imitation of a face. Puffy, somewhat lacy white dress too. The movements of the plushies were quite fluid and the woman didn’t seem to need gestures much. The owner of the store prattled on about this or that, Elizabeth didn't particularly care, her attention on the parahuman.

About Elizabeth’s own height, skilled but with enough sense to make sure the show came first and not call undue attention to herself. Decent eye for the aesthetic side of things. Shame Deerlet wasn’t here with her, Da’at automatically identifying things for them was soooo convenient.

Bah! She was both an idol and a countess! She could damn well do her own meet’n’greet! Hm-hm-hm…

She fiddled with the charm Deerlet provided her with, clawed finger scraping at the runes a little bit to dilute the effect. She hoped so, it would be inconvenient to just accidentally rip it and reveal her gloriously cute full form before debut. But she still needed to signal to the parahuman she wanted to talk business.

Eventually, however, the impromptu puppet show did end, the parahuman got paid, the crowd dispersed, either to patron the shop or go home and Elizabeth approached.

“Before you say anything.” The parahuman opened the moment Liz was close enough for there to be no need to raise voice. “I am not taking costume commissions. No, this is not negotiable and no, you cannot convince me otherwise with exotic materials your power makes.” She sounded really irritated too.

“Wow, ru-de.” She shot accusingly right back, puffing her cheeks in a somewhat exaggerated pout. “I haven’t even said a thing yet.” The parahuman visibly flinched and Elizabeth patted herself mentally on the back for getting the accusatory tone juuuust right.

“Ah… Sorry, so many newbie capes think that just because my power lets me control cloth and I have some sense for fashion that I will be their personal tailor.”

Elizabeth gave the parahuman a smug grin as she flipped her hair with a well practised, smooth gesture. “Forgiven. Now, while I am interested in you, I can promise you that I can handle my fashion needs all on my own.” The parahuman made a sound a bit like she choked and Elizabeth had to hold back a smirk. Or the urge to laugh like a princess in a manga. “You see, I’m looking to go into showbiz and I could certainly use a hand from a skilled helper to set up some of the details of the events themselves.”

“Parahuman performers… I don’t think anyone has tried that with any particular success.” The woman muttered, bringing a hand to her mask’s chin in an obvious signalling of consideration. “I’m… not quite sure I am willing to sign up for anything long-term…”

“That’s fine, that’s fine~.” Elizabeth waved the concern away, even as she turned around and motioned for the woman to follow. “We all have our passions and it’s better to find out ours are incompatible at the planning stage before the fame and fortune makes us grit our teeth and force us to endure the drama for the bennies.”

“Reasonable.” Came the quiet reply from behind her and Elizabeth allowed herself to slowly, carefully unfurl her tail to caress the cape’s side. Slowly. Wouldn’t do to startle a potential employee. Hmmm, but she needed a name to introduce herself to the parahuman, it wouldn’t do to just resort to ‘hey you’-ing it the whole time. Not Elizabeth either, that would put the parahuman in that awkward spot of being obliged to respond in kind, kinda defeating the purpose of cape aliases, no?

“By the way, you can call me Bathory.” Eh, it’s not like those not in the know would believe her anyway. And she would rather die than use Carmilla.

“Parian. So… what do you have in mind?”

Bingo~.
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The most time consuming part of every enterprise, in James’ humble opinion, was always the set-up. All the variables to be discovered and accounted for, people to meet, information gathered on the local conditions etcetera. So much legwork going into it. Frankly, he had almost forgotten just how much hassle it was, so long it has been since he had to do such work himself. Shinjuku was a joint venture as well as a bit of an improv and then his time at Chaldea… Well, his expertise was, sadly, not in demand. It had been decades since James Moriarty had truly started from scratch.

Frankly speaking, he was feeling downright nostalgic! With the body of a Servant allowing him to enjoy all the benefits of his age with none of the downsides, he could even say he was young again!

“Dohohoho.”

Brockton Bay was his kind of city too. Rotten and steeped in desperation, full of opportunities for a man who just knew where to look. Oh, it had plenty of established players as well, but was that not true of London of his teenage years too? It held up still, but James could tell, this was a city on the downward spiral. Abandoned industrial areas left to rot or vagrancy, the law enforcement unwilling or unable to push too hard against the crime, protests by irate and desperate workers only further digging the city’s grave…

Truly, what kind of good deed did James do to be pulled to such a delightful buffet?

Still, even with information Young Lisa gave him providing him with leads as to where to direct his internet investigations, there was just so much to do. Normally, he would scout out the local players but… his Master, aware of it or not, has already began work on the Asians. This… Empire (quite presumptuous of them, limited to a single city, even with ties towards similar groups across the rest of the country, and with puppeteer’s strings flowing back from Europe) was a no-go, ideologically motivated groups were volatile at the best of times, in James’ opinion. And the exact ideology of the Empire made them more of an excellent focal point of an alliance effort, something to use as a glue to stick disparate parts together excising than someone to bring to the table. About the only good thing he had to say about them was the quality of their drugs, but then, every two bit dealer, monkey and wanna-be could manage something respectable with the kind of resources the Empire clearly had on hand.

Merchants were too decentralised to bring into the fold properly, and besides, their value lied mostly in their parahumans… Parahuman, really. While unfortunately named mister Skidmark had a decent brain for the whole thing, it was his lover that was valuable. Skilled labour was always more valuable than management, really, harder to replace, even if you didn’t account for the exclusivity supernatural powers offered.

Which left smaller players. Young Lisa’s little motley crew of upstarts, playing to the direction of a conductor hidden from public’s view to the point Coil was half considered an urban legend. A dazzling array of independents seeking to strike it big on their own, failing more often than not. And, naturally, mercenaries. People after James’ own heart. A person doing things for money, now you knew exactly where you stood with those, from start to finish. Excellent relationship to establish and cultivate.

There was, usually, just a problem of how to approach them casually. It was good to first get the measure of their characters. Sometimes, greed made people a little bit short sighted. 

He was pondering that exact problem when he came upon the most interesting sight. A pair of young ladies near a police station, one a tall blonde and the other a slightly shorter brunette. Now, they didn’t look unusual at first glance, but even with just his very short stay in the city and a dearth of interactions with them, James knew a parahuman when he saw one. Similar to magi back home and really, any person with powers, there was a certain air to them, a laundry list of subtle tells in their bearing that an attentive eye could spot.

And the two young ladies had that air. Admittedly, the blonde less so, appearing a bit less lucid than her companion. She could certainly pass as simply mentally unwell to an uneducated observer. But if James had any doubts about her powers, the fact the lady was most definitely perceiving the entrance to one of the mini-Singularities Master’s power kept popping up would dispel them.

Well then, best to make sure she didn’t do something foolish.

He crossed the distance between them quickly but without appearing to actually hurry, lest he be perceived as a threat. As an added benefit, it allowed him to catch a snippet of their conversation.

“...you sure about that? Don’t see a thing here.” The shorter one questioned her companion.

“There is.” The blonde replied absentmindedly, fingers already tracing the glyph marking the entrance.

“Ahem.” James coughed to announce himself. No physical contact, old chap. “I would be careful with those if you can actually see them, young lady. They are a bit–”

It happened without really any warning. One moment, they were on a fairly quiet street. The next, they ended at the entrance of… was that one of those breaching shooting gallery training courses he had heard a bit about?

“–dangerous.” He finished nonplussed. “These pockets are inhabited by hostile constructs my… comrade’s power conjures.” He offered an explanation to the brunette. The blonde, unfortunately, didn’t seem to fully notice they shifted. What he wouldn’t give for Master’s presence right now, Da’at was an invaluable helper.

“Ellie?” The lucid one of the duo shook her companion with worry in her voice, to little effect. “You! Fix this!” She turned around pointing an accusing finger at James’ face. 

“As I said, this is not the result of my power, miss. I know there’s a condition for it to release you, however I’m not sure it will work properly, given our… unusual method of entrance.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She spat out, interposing herself more firmly between him and her blonde companion.

James sighed, rubbing his temple. Youth these days. Still, it did provide him with an opportunity. Improvisation may have been something he hated doing, but he could do it, and do it well if the situation necessitated, in his humble opinion. So he simply manifested his modified cane with a flourish and gave a bow.

He hoped, at least, that he would be able to save the materials gained in this excursion.

___________________________________________________________________________

January 5th

“Hope you don’t mind my plus one.” Challenger greeted Outis when she arrived that afternoon at the Boat Graveyard. She motioned at [Lancer: Armsmaster] fiddling with a display attached to his arm. The man was tall, clad in dark blue power armour with silver highlights, its helm covering the upper portion of his face. Perhaps he was simply that proud of his finely kept beard. Either that or PR had gotten on his ass. “Armsy here wanted to test his field analysis equipment in somewhat controlled conditions.”

“I will remain strictly an observer.” The man stated gruffly. “It won’t substitute for the data we would’ve gotten from proper full power testing at PRT HQ, but we cannot exactly force you into it.”

“Fair nuff. I’ll keep a few cards to my chest,” Hehe. The card puns would get old at some point, but today was not it, “But I’m sure you’ll still get some interesting data from what I brought to the party. Speaking of, rules for the rumble?”

Challenger gave her a wry grin as she pointed at her weapons resting comfortably at her bike. “Unarmed. I’m afraid even if you could walk it off and weren’t vigorously working on seducing Panacea into your private nurse, PR would still have my head over blood loss and broken bones in what’s supposed to be friendly spar.”

“Well, so much for giving the big man something to sink his teeth into, but aight.” Outis rolled her shoulders, Indigo Assassin sloughing off with the motion to be replaced by Berserker, “Red on red it is.”

No Mad Enhancement if she could help it, either. She got worked up enough without it and they were trying for something that wouldn’t send either of them to the hospital.

Challenger met her with a crack of the knuckles, her grin widening a little bit as she crouched low.

“She didn’t fight the restriction very hard because that way she gets an excuse to keep coming for more.” Armsmaster pointed out dryly. “And it is, in a way, power testing for her that way.” The man added before he nodded to himself and retreated back towards the two government sanctioned heroes’ bikes.

That was all the invitation Berserker needed, using that musclepower of hers to rush the whitehat. AGL was king when it came to mobility, but for linear acceleration? Strength mattered. 

Challenger kept her grin up, and position, merely shifting her footing slightly for better balance as she spread her arms. Looking just about ready to receive Berserker’s charge with a big ol hug.

Outis’ heel dug into the stone of the yard at the last second, turning into the perfect pivot to transfer all the momentum of her charge into a leg sweep. It was a risky move, because even by using her legs Challenger still had reach advantage on her tiny ass, but this was a friendly spar. Exactly the sort of place to see what would and wouldn’t work without any real danger.

Besides, being fun sized had its own advantages. A low hunch for the whole motion meant she was a pain in the ass to hit, while being so much lighter meant she had options. Challenger answered by springing forward, lunging head on into a tackle, thrusting her hands forward and, seemingly for fun, just miming a grabbing motion first.

Berserker couldn’t help but laugh even as, in a motion that’d have wrecked her old body’s shoulder and turned her spine into gravel, she flipped all her weight into the hand facing away from the cape. Her core muscles screamed at her as her back arched and her organs shifted in ways she was pretty sure a human wouldn’t be able to get away with, but she managed. The only issue? She didn’t have much momentum to work with. Thankfully, a flash of red smoke was enough to give the double kick enough spice as her shoes acquaintanced themselves with Challenger’s hastily pulled down forearms, the woman grunting in pain as she was lifted further into the air.

She hit the ground on her feet a moment later, having twisted through her flight to stick the landing. She massaged each of her limbs slowly as she gave Berserker another look. “Definitely Brute rules. Brute married with Uber’s skill, I want to say.” She added a touch louder for the benefits of their audience.

“Eh, may as well give you a freebie. Not quite skill, I just have a lot of body control like this.” Outis said as she dusted herself off, having followed with the kick’s motion to spring back to her feet. She was being a little shit here, because the other Cards sure as hell gave her a bunch of lowercase-s skill, Berserker gave her instinct and control. But hey, all in good fun, right? “Kinesthetic sense, I think the term is?”

“Still a Combat Thinker.” Challenger shrugged. “Which is a pretty sweet combo, not gonna lie. It’s either one or the other, you don’t really see both in the same package. I might actually get what Armsy’s beef with Dauntless is, when put like that.” She added under her breath.

“Now, HAVE AT YOU!” She shouted, springing forward with both first held close to the chest.

Berserker grinned, juking to the woman’s blindspot. She wanted to see what sort of workarounds Challenger had trained up.

___________________________________________________________________________

“You know.” Panacea sighed as she worked, quite slowly for the parahuman healer’s proficiency, on Outis’ bruising. She’d gotten her ass beat like a drum, it was great! Very educational. “You’re not even the first parahuman related case I've had today. Nor the only independent cape related.”

“Aren’t there like ninety independents crawling around the Bay at any given time?” Indigo Assassin asked with a chuckle, “I’m somehow unsurprised. But do spill the tea.”

“Most of these independents have better things to do than ‘terrorising’ ‘innocent’ highschoolers.” Panacea deadpanned. “And sure, the way Stalker tells it, Winslow is just a low simmer gang war all the time, but I have the hospital data on my side, you know?”

“Pft. So, how many gang tattoos did these poor, innocent souls have?” Outis snorted. “And what was the damage? Must’ve been more interesting than a few stab wounds and the odd bullet if it caught your eye.”

“Ten Totally Not Hitlerjugend Boys, We Swear On Our Mums’ Graves, all get rolled in with a generous serving of bee stingers still firmly lodged in them. Which, you know, compared to the few actual Carrie situations recorded is downright tame. Also let me pretty much nail the important bit of the new trigger’s power. Pretty nice of them to tell their mind controlled tormentors turned victims to turn themselves to the hospital for treatment.” Panacea recited in a completely dry tone. “Now, since they were Mastered, and their injuries were merely painful, not life threatening, I could have refused to treat them, but a few dogwhistly tattoos and questionable fashion choices does not yet constitute evidence of gang affiliation.”

“Sounds like a panicked new trigger trying not to get deaths on their record, alright.” Assassin grunted, parsing the slang well enough. Freshly minted parahuman. Also, man, Panacea was a much better person than Outis. She’d just have checked them over to make sure they wouldn’t die and left them to enjoy the finding out part of fucking around. “Anything interesting about the venom or the stingers, or were they just vectors for the power?”

“Nothing in particular. I could afford a little bit of fucking around, given the circumstances, so I could tell that it was the venom that was the vector of the effect. Just the presence, in of itself. Otherwise, it was perfectly normal bee stuff.” The healer sighed.

“Probably for the best. World has enough on its plate to add a side-dish of synthesizable mind-control venom.” Assassin grunted as she relaxed into the chair, “Any volunteers for my exam so far?”

“There’s always someone who would rather get out sooner rather than later.” Panacea noted dryly. “The biggest time sink is assembling all the necessary equipment and documentation. PRT takes Healer Cards with maximal seriousness.” She smiled thinly as she looked up at Outis’ face. “If you’re impatient, you can always take the theoretical side whenever you feel ready.”

“Ugh, I’m getting flashbacks to my biotech courses already. Fucking pentanes and hexanes, bane of my existence.” Outis whined theatrically. Truth was, even with Violet Caster giving her the equivalent of a passing grade in the Clock Tower for every magic discipline she could think of, trying to piece that together into mundane medical knowledge that’d get her through a no-shit medical licence exam would be a trial. If she was optimistic.

Asclepius, please come home.

“I have White because my power is bullshit.” Panacea acquiesced. “They still expect me to pass the necessary medical exams within a few years or they will take it away and hand me out the next tier. So, y’know, both me and Vicky are studying higher-education courses while still in high school. If I wasn’t an introvert, I would mourn the effects it would have on my social life.”

“Instead, you got the perfect excuse to dodge extroverts.” Assassin chuckled.

“Unfortunately, one of them decided on the cunning plan of taking on a similar workload to mine to deprive me of an excuse when she swings by.” Panacea shook her head. “Well, your ouchies are gone, I got another decent look at your biology, we talked shop a little bit.”

“All in a day’s work.” Outis nodded as she took the dismissal for what it was, “I’d say have a good day, but we both know you’re dealing with thrice the amount of idiots than a retail worker. At least the pay’s good.”
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AN: Unfortunately, due to Patreon's... limited formatting options, I had to get creative. The boxed italics in Elizabeth's PoV this chapter are supposed to be both smaller text and crossed out.