My name is Angra Mainyu.
Most just call me Abe-san, though.
Currently, I’m working as a bartender in Ahnenerbe.
Other than mixing drinks, this job is about talking to customers, listening to their grievances and sorrows, and being a shoulder for them.
I don’t even get paid for it. Hell, I should be the one paying them. I love this. I can simply be here, mix drinks and listen to everyone whining to me.
So yeah, that’s what I do.
Ahnenerbe is a place where a lot of people come to ease their burden, every night.
This is one of those nights…
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First Night
This Gun For Hire
I was standing behind the counter as always, wiping the glasses that were the pride of the bar. Having been used by Elizabeth the First herself, they were something we used only in the finest occasions. My employer, the damned cat, had told me that if I so much as left a finger-print on one of them, I would experience a never-ending four day loop of pain and torture.
It sounded somewhat promising, but I let the chance pass me by.
It was at that point that the bell rang at the doorway, informing that a new customer had entered. At the moment, there wasn’t anyone else in the bar but yours truly and V/V with her ever-present complains about the wage she had even though she spent all nights as a one-girl-jazz-band in the corner. But there she was, every night. Apparently no other place found the idea of a world-destroying monster from Venus as an employee that endearing. Before we had hired her, she even had to pawn off her precious guitar, and nowadays she played strictly piano, the one that the bar owned.
Tonight it looks like she’s playing a rendition of Benny Carter’s “Sweet Lorraine”.
--- But I digress.
In any event, the customer entered the bar, accompanied by the aforementioned chime of the bell. I looked up from my glass and saw a familiar man in black suit approaching the counter. It was one of the regulars, named Emiya Kiritsugu. Looking like yesterday’s rain with his shaggy hair and disheveled jacket, he slumped at the chair next to the counter and put his elbows to the surface.
“Well, Mr. E. Haven’t seen you in couple of weeks. How’s life been treating ya?” I say.
“Could be better. Could be a lot better”, he answers. “Life has been dealing me lemons the size of Aristoteles.”
Needless to say, he got a pretty scornful glance from V/V for that bit of a joke.
“I know what helps to that”, I say to that with a grin. “Here. Hold up a second. I’ll get ya a Black Russian.”
Black Russian was Kiritsugu’s personal favorite. Something about it being of pleasant colors and reminding him of family or something like that. Personally I think that it was just because after drinking White Russians with his wife he was made fun of by Kotomine Kirei, but who knows? Maybe he likes it, maybe he doesn’t want to look like a sissy, it’s none of my business.
Anyways, there I was, mixing the vodka and coffee liquor. And while I’m doing that Kiritsugu keeps sighing and sighing, looking like a balloon two weeks after Fourth of July. Only when I serve the drink to him does he show any signs of interest at something. He clutches the drink like a six year old girl clutches her teddy bear in the dark and starts sipping away.
Well, curiosity is my middle name, and so, I have to ask him:
“What’s making you so miserable, Mr. E? Down on your luck?” I inquire. He gives a non-committed shrug.
“In a way. It’s more of a trouble on the home front.”
“Home front, huh? Trouble with the missus?”
“Nah, nothing like that. Iri and I are doing just fine. It’s more of a…” he looks very hesitant to continue, but still does. “…trouble with my son.”
At that point, I decide to make immediately another Black Russian. Parental problems are always something that require substantial amounts of alcohol. And what do you know, by the time I am finished, he is already reaching out for it, having emptied his drink.
“Go on”, I urge him.
“Well, it is like this. You see…I set everything up for my son just perfectly. I made sure he grew up with complex that made him want to save everybody. I taught him magecraft just enough that he would develop a superb power but still be considered “weak”, I taught him how to manage a harem, heck, I even stuffed a bloody sheath in him! And even though I did all that…”
Kiritsugu sighs and slumps on the surface of the counter.
“He doesn’t want to become an Ally of Justice.”
“Aah”, I nod understandingly. “A boy does not want to fulfill his father’s unfulfilled dream?”
“I am just thinking what’s best for him! You see, my father never asked me if I wanted to inherit his dream! He was doing great things, preparing to reach the Root, turning into a Dead Apostle at some point, accelerating time…and when I asked if I could help him, what do I get? My first crush gets turned into a Ghoul and suddenly I find myself in a weird situation where I do not want her to suck me! Not only that, but afterwards, a half-Russian pedophile starts looking after me”, he complains into his glass as if it was the fault in all this.
To be honest, there was a bit too much information for me right there, but I let it slide. You see and hear a lot of things, being a bartender here, and well, you eventually understand how to react to stuff like that. For example, Kiritsugu here looked like he was walking straight out of a De Palma film.
Eh, sure, I’ve watched few of those. Sure, of course I’m more the type of guy to go to video rental and get “Weapons of Ass Destruction III” from the porn section, but I enjoy culture every now and then. And sometimes I even watch something that’s not pornography.
Anyways…
“So I do it all, I give him the abilities, I give him the skill, I even stuff that damn sheath down his dying throat, and he doesn’t care about any of that! Instead of killing one to save hundred, or killing hundred to save a thousand, he wants to stay at home, cook with descriptions more detailed than kissing scenes in Harlequin romance-novels, and spend his days getting jiggy with either King of Britain, heiress of the local magus family or who else he has in his screwed up harem.”
I had to hide my face behind my towel. Only someone with a childish mind of the 90’s would be able to talk about “getting jiggy” with anyone.
But seeing that Kiritsugu truly looked like someone had thrown the entire weight of Fem’s Casa on his shoulder, I figured it would be a good idea to give him some encouraging advice.
“Listen, Mr. E. I know your dream’s been a bit part of your life. Heck, it’s been the only interesting character-point in you for the whole time you’ve been a mainstream character! But you have got to let go, you know? Not all children follow their parents’ footsteps”, I try to coax him into thinking. “I didn’t. Unlike my father who spent his days tying his son to a pole and torturing him for being a imagined demon, I am here, serving drinks for you. Sometimes it’s not that bad, right?”
And that is when I see Kiritsugu’s eyes light up a bit again. Usually they grow darker and darker, depending on how many times V/V plays that “Here Comes the Night”, and missus has to come and get him, but this time, it seems he has taken himself by the neck.
The image is reinforced when he quickly drinks up the remains of his Black Russian, and stands up.
“Yeah. You’re exactly right. Not every child follows their father’s dreams.”
It’s good to see that your advice is being taken seriously, so I go and nod at him.
“That’s it, Mr. E. Keep that positive attitude up, and you’ll be fine.”
And he nods back, showing me a slight smile I haven’t seen. It’s a bit creepy, like that smile Jack Nicholson has permanently on his face.
“I’ll do that. Even though Shirou won’t take the torch of my dream, I still have Ilya. And she’s even my flesh and blood. Now I just have to find a way to fish Avalon out of Shirou, buy Ilya a white trench coat, train her into using modern weaponry…”
“W-wait, Mr. E---“
“Then I’ll have her shoot any pet that she’s acquired to toughen her up. ---But wait, her pet is Shirou. Well……Sacrifices have to be made.”
Before I could intercept anymore, Emiya Kiritsugu had walked out of the bar just like that.
Well, I did not see him for a couple of weeks. I had no idea how his plan of making his daughter an Ally of Justice went. It was only two weeks later, when Saber stopped by, that I heard that missus had given the man a good beating, and put him in house arrest. Looks like it was a non-smoking, non-alcohol month for Mr. E after that.
Perhaps for the best.
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Yeah. There are plenty of strange nights in Ahnenerbe.
Some weirder than others.
But one thing’s for sure
They are, always, strange.
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Author Notes: So...yeah. Something like that. This is the place where I come to write whenever I feel like I can't just make any progress with other fics. Just nights at Ahnenerbe with Abe-san.
If you have any suggestions for next guest, feel free to suggest.
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Originally Posted by zhead
