It's back because I'm in a nostalgic mood. So there. Now, before, we had this story done and gone. All three Endings, True, Good, and Best, were even revealed. We hit 1 out of the 17 Tiger Dojo's, and all was good. And I'll always remember Koto and Mike's argument/ decision making about hooters.
Chapter 1
Emiya Shirou would always regret that day. Mostly for the fact that the guy he hated was nailing his moe Servant on the kitchen counter, though the Gate of Babylon vs Kentucky Fried Chicken ran as a close second. Well, perhaps they tied, but whatever. It had started out relatively normal too, as far as Bad Ends go...
Shirou woke, images of dancing swords with tantalizing lolipops still lingering in his mind. He groaned, if only because now he'd go around about thirty minutes with a raging stiffy after that particular dream. As he was getting dressed, Shirou idly wondered if he should get his perverse sexual fascination with weapons checked out with a therapist. A mental picture of Rin dressed up as a doctor and glaring at him was enough to put out that idea, however.
He laid back onto his mat, and tried to meditate to clear out his, erm, problem. Unfortunately, his method of mediation was going into this weird ass zen zone that he had sworn off when he had awoken one strange morning with Issei curled up like a kitten in his lap. The memory of that morning both snapped Shirou out of his archery zone and made his “bone of his sword” go floppy. He grimaced, and wished there had been a better way, but a cat was fine too.
The smell of breakfast wafted into the room, disrupting the increasingly disturbing video's going through his head. Shirou hopped to his feet, and started walking. There were many scenes Shirou had never hoped to see, either ever or again. The infamous loli sex slave hypothetical scenario was a notable one, as was getting sword spammed to death whilst the bastard King of Heroes made out with a tainted Saber. The scene before him rivaled the number four spot on his list of horrible things that he wished had never happened or he could forget. Saber was cooking a meal, and dear GOD how could he have been lured by the sight before his eyes!
The charred corpses of toast stared at him, either accusing him of not waking up early enough or begging him to put them out of their misery. Emiya Shirou could do nothing for those poor souls, though he sent the heaven's a quick prayer on their behalf. Saber had, through a providence of fate, only moved on to the eggs, and seemed to be having difficulty. Shirou, master of Unlimited Food Works as he was, stepped in to aid his beautiful house. Saber noticed him then, her cute baffled face turning red at his presence.
“S-Shirou? I must apologize for this, I had thought to try and repay for you making all those exquisite morning feasts, so...” her voice trailed off as she lowered her head in shame.
“It's no problem to me, Saber, I really do appreciate the effort,” rest in peace, omelet-san, was Shirou's current thought, but it would have only upset the girl before him. “You go and take a seat, and I'll see if I can't salvage some foo-er, I mean I'll prep a better breakfast to praise your efforts.”
That should have been his first indication that thing's were going to go horribly wrong that day. Alas that foresight didn't work on the same level as retrospect! Regardless, Emiya managed to scrap together a good enough breakfast to satisfy the hunger of Saber and Sakura, who had stopped by after the tragedy in the kitchen. Then afterward, it was time to go to school. He waved Saber goodbye, a smiling Sakura chatting beside him, and started down the path to school.
~!~
...and so school ends, presumably because Shirou was too busy contemplating his navel to notice either the lessons or the time passing by like a drugged alcoholic looking for a good manga that isn't One Piece or Hellsing. Issei, being the lovable rumored-to-be-gay bro that he is, stopped Shirou on his way home to complain about how the A/C was shit and instead of using the school funds to I dunno, FIX THE DAMN THING, use his best friend to magically make things better like he's some kind of mechanical god, bitch. Since Shirou had a rank A “Be-At-The-Wrong-Places-At-The-Wrong-Time” Syndrome, he agreed to be a mook. Thus it was that at the end of the day the world saw not a weary but satisfied hero trudging home, but a bloody mook still in school fixing A/C that seemed to go out every couple weeks.
Shirou wiped the sweat off his brow, finally getting to the heart of the problem and boning the conditioner, boning here meaning Projecting a replacement part. As he walked outside, he came under the rare “Oh shi- I'm about to die” case that makes heroes everywhere do a barrel roll for great justice. Just in time to avoid a swordspam to the face, natch. Shirou had Caliburn out and ready, because that seems to be his de-facto weapon in the Fate route despite how this doesn't follow one specific route. The sword's experience moved his arm like a prisoner being butthurt about not having a lighter, deflecting the eight swords seeking the juicy insta-kill spots on his mortal body. The truly kickass “Clashing Souls” theme kicked in as Shirou gazed up at his current enemy.
“Mongel, do not presume to stare at us with such a defiant glare,” the King of Heroes declared, standing on a conveniently placed lamppost at the center of the courtyard.
“Can't you just shove off for a bit,” Shirou growled, “seriously, you've been killed in all of the routes, give it a rest.”
“Ah, but this a lighthearted fanfic, and thus anything can go!” Gilgamesh grinned, the really awesome special effect of swords appearing behind him jumping into action. “Thus, hopefully, this time I can both kill you and have Saber as my own.”
Dainsleif shot out at the speed of a really fast moving object, to be repulsed by Caliburn. As long as he only shoots them one by one, I'm alright, Shirou thought as he parried Muramasa. After another four shots of that Gilgamesh decided to actually take advantage of his h@x Noble Phantasm and send volleys of swords to skewer Shirou like those hateful pineapple cakes that have that one toothpick stuck in it that you forget is there until it winds up jamming into your upper mou-I forgot where I was going with that simile. To his credit, Shirou had the sense to dodge some of them and hope that Caliburn's history was enough to block the others. Nonetheless, Gae Bolg grazed his thigh and Tyrfing left a gash on his left side.
It was towards the third volley and the second Projection's of Kanshou & Bakuya that Shirou began to think something was amiss. For one, Gilgamesh should be dead, though he supposed the setting's status as non-canon invalidated that. The other thing was Saber. He probably still had the link with Saber, so why didn't she come to his rescue? Why didn't he use Rho Aias? How could he be thinking these thoughts while not having time to get a good retort in? Such was the thoughts of our hero, ladies and gentlemen, as he wove around the schoolyard like a pretty, pretty princess. He happened to glance up again at the King of Heroes and found a shocking sight. The number of Noble Phantasm's about to be unleashed was forty-two! He wouldn't be able to survive such a barrage with mere swords. Shirou withdrew into himself to find that shield, the one of the ultimate defense. But it was worthless, at this time he wouldn't get it up in time! Shirou sighed in resignation, aware that this was yet another Dead End that could not be avoided. The wall of swords launched, magnificent weapons from all cultures coming to take his life.
All of them pierced a target, though not the one they would have liked. Bits of mashed potatoes and crunchy chicken splattered all over Shirou like a weird food porn fetish. He opened his eyes, astonished that he hadn't been penetrated. The man he saw blocking the blades was...pretty damn uncommon. To start off, his hair on his head had somehow fused with the beard on his face. The clothes he wore were too formal for this place, and seemed more fitting in the American Embassy. His kindly eyes stared at Emiya, glasses glinting off the fading sunlight.
“Are you Captain Military?” Shirou asked, a little bemused.
“No, son, I'm even better,” the man's accent was difficult to place, “I'm the Colonel. And I'm here to save the industry.”
He began chanting an awfully familiar poem, made of meme's and awesome.
I am the mascot of my company,
Chicken is my body,
and Gravy is my blood.
I have created over a thousand branches,
Unknown to horrible taste,
nor known to McDonald's.
Have withstood death to make this company,
yet these hands never really made the recipes
So, as I speak,
Kentucky Fried Chicken
Then thing's got simultaneously trippy and epic.
Next chapter is our choice, and yes, this time we can go another route. or just do what we did last time, tis cool. Also, multi choice making is allowed, but it has to fit. You can't just spam "option 2" over and over. mike and Koto gave perfect examples of this, if anyone remembers.
EDDYAK! or...maybe it was Tang...probably tang, your favorite line is in this, I haven't forgotten.
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Originally Posted by Komrade Kwestions
