Trinity Angles (Discussion Thread)

[Xamusel]

...did I just read that right? Philemon is getting involved?!

[Kieran]

Only insofar as allowing Margaret to overhear certain details of the next contest, which (because of the strength of their bonds), she decides to pass onto Marie and her friends - and not punishing her for it. It's all he really can do, thanks to the outcome of that mess with Nyarlathop back in Persona 2.

But in this case, he can do that, legally, because the Rules that govern these powers and these contests say that balance has to be maintained: every move is allowed a countermove, and so on. And some years ago, when Takara was a guest of the Velvet Room (and Galen was very much on the outside of things), he baked a tray of brownies, as a "thank you" to the Velvet Room's residents, and liege lord; because he wanted them to know that their efforts on behalf of humanity, and their faith in it, was appreciated.

. . . Really - they do a lot of work, under a lot of constraints, and play a pivotal-if-largely-unremarked role in regularly saving existence as we know it; they deserve a lot more than brownies, but at the time it was all he could think of to do.

*Shakes head* In any case, it was a kindness, an unasked-for but appreciated gift; and in the parlance of their Rules, an obligation. Philemon merely took advantage of that to offer them an equal token: a little bit more information and forewarning than they usually have about these things. Not enough to skew the game, but maybe enough to make such a "rigged" one fair.

[hatori]

Margaret loves Galen's brownies? xD

and while i have not watched P4 the golden... Marie certainly fits the idea most fans have given me.

[Kieran]

Margaret loves Galen's brownies? xD

It's possible that all of them do; while he has no idea who, specifically, sampled them, they were intended for everyone in the Velvet Room (actually, scratch that - if nothing else, he knows Marie did).

. . . And I suspect that, depending on who, exactly, got to them, Caroline and Justine's reactions to him could be interesting.

and while i have not watched P4 the golden... Marie certainly fits the idea most fans have given me.

Yeah, apparently they thought P4 needed a tsundere character (with a touch of Rei Ayanami added for spice). I rather like her, though.

. . . Incidentally, in case you're curious/confused by the mention of him - either Yu Narukami was there in Inaba during the murders, and not a wild card (though possibly still a Persona user), or he was away studying at Mahoutokoro, and met Marie later.

[Kieran]

Baghdad, Iraq
June 8, 2017








As one might expect from near-summer, it was blazingly hot outside. The fact that it was Baghdad, the second-largest city in the Middle East, only made it worse; not simply because it was in desert country, but because it was so crowded that the teeming masses of humanity raised the ambient temperature. Therefore, it ought to have come as no surprise that Rin Delacour sought shelter from the heat within a darkened tavern.

. . . What did surprise her, however, was the person waiting for her inside.

“‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world,’” he intoned sardonically, “‘she walks into mine.’”

Rin scowled. “. . . Really? Do you have any idea how many times I had to watch that movie with Fleur and Gabrielle as we were growing up? And from what I’ve heard, you don’t even like it!”

Galen Salvatore, for all that he was English, and Canadian before even that, still managed to decently execute a Gallic shrug.

“With all due respect to the magnificent cast,” he responded, “it’s not my kind of movie. That said, however, a classic is a classic—and how many times in life do you honestly get this kind of opportunity handed to you?”

No stranger to verbal games herself, Rin acknowledged the point by allowing her lips to compress to a thin line, and saying nothing more.

The younger of the two dimensional travellers chuckled. “Good to see you, Rin—have a seat. It’s bloody hot out there, so I know you could use a drink.”

She did, because it was creeping into the mid-40s, Celsius, out there. The ice water the waiter brought her was better than almost any wine she’d ever had, at the point; and the pause to drink gave her time to consider the most effective methods of interrogation in this situation. Given more time to prepare—and/or a less personal relationship with the subject—she was fairly confident in her ability to get him to talk . . .

. . . But he was who he was, so she eventually decided on the direct approach.

Subtle gestures, disguised as rearranging her skirts rather than manipulating the wand hidden beneath them, cast the privacy charms she deemed necessary before beginning—after the waiter refilled their glasses, of course.

“. . . I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’re just on vacation?” she asked resignedly.

“Working with the British Museum on a dig, actually,” Galen replied lightly.

As responses went, Rin found it annoying, because it could be taken as a confirmation or a denial of her question, but was a satisfactory enough answer on its own to forestall further questioning.

. . . Which, Rin suddenly realised, basically gives me the answer to my question, doesn’t it? He’s on assignment, and possibly undercover—because he’d never give a “tradecraft” answer like that one unless he had to.

Inwardly, she grimaced, because she could practically feel the migraine as it formed behind her eyes . . .

Rin wasn’t privy to all the details of what Shirou and his friends got up to—if only because what she didn’t know couldn’t be forced out of her—but she was generally aware that they often executed covert operations on behalf of the non-magical government. She understood why, of course. She even agreed with their motivations, which said something—integration went against every aspect of her training, both as a witch and as a magus.

But if Rin had learned nothing else in her years here, it was that magic operated under different rules. The diminishment of mysteries was not a factor in this reality; secrecy was a matter of human nature, rather than metaphysical necessity. That wasn’t to say there weren’t good reasons for the division between the magical and the mundane—but they were gradually being eclipsed by the inability to maintain that divide.

She wasn’t about to start her own version of their initiative; she lacked the resources and the manpower to try, for one thing. But she did observe their efforts with interest, and tacit support. After all, it was called the International Statute of Secrecy, and Rin naturally wanted to stack the deck in her own favour however she could.

That being the case, she didn’t press him on his current task—not directly, at least. Still, she had her own assignment, and depending on the details of his, it sounded like they might intersect . . .

“A dig?” she repeated aloud. “That’s curious—I’m actually here to investigate dig sites, myself.” She paused. “In tandem with the British Museum, now that I think about it; one of my boss’s peers has better contacts in this area, so they agreed on a joint venture.”

“Really?” Galen said, sounding genuinely interested. If she didn’t know the man could be a consummate liar—or at least, actor, which amounted to much the same thing—on demand, she wouldn’t have bothered reading anything deeper into it. “I wasn’t aware; anyone I might know?”

Rin looked at him steadily as she replied, “I’ve never met the man myself, but the name I was given was Doctor Henry Jekyll.”

Galen’s eyebrows rose. “. . . I rather suspect we’re crossing paths on purpose, then: this dig was commissioned by the same.” He cocked his head. “What exactly are you looking for, Rin-chan?”

The named witch did her best not to freeze at the question, even as she flicked her eyes downward briefly as a subtle nod to the equally subtle warning.“-Chan” might be the expected honorific when dealing with a Japanese female on friendly terms, but Galen had never referred to her that way. It had always been “Rin-san” with him—or “Tohsaka-sensei,” if he was feeling like teasing her. At the same time, however, it was a slip that would go largely unnoticed; it was unlikely many people here were aware of Japanese conversational etiquette, much less their specific interpersonal relationship.

And that makes it an ideal way of warning me that the good doctor is exactly what Galen’s interested in, and possibly not all he seems . . .

In an even tone, Rin answered, “I ran across this partial diary account from the Napoleonic Era—you know, the man who started the Egyptology craze in Europe before you Brits got your hands on it—”

“Canadian,” Galen protested in an injured tone.

“Is that what it says on your passport?” she challenged, permitting herself a smug smile at his answering scowl.

“Anyways,” the Japanese-born Frenchwoman continued, “the account talks about an odd tomb out in the desert”—she paused, before switching both to Japanese and a whisper—“like it was designed less to keep grave robbers out than it was to keep its occupant in.”

He grimaced, replying in the same language, “Oh, that’s just lovely . . .”

Shaking his head, Galen gestured in what would, to the untrained eye—or those who didn’t know he kept his wand in a forearm sheath—to be an attempt to swat away a fly, rather than add several new privacy spells to Rin’s existing enchantments.

Continuing in Japanese, he explained, “Jekyll’s aware of magic, but not the wizarding world as a whole—not yet, anyway—and both the magical and the mundane sides want a better idea of what he’s up to. Insofar as I’ve been able to infiltrate, he seems to be running a supernatural research-and-exterminate black ops group—the sort of setup I’ve been led to expect from the Association, or maybe more fittingly, Atlas. I think Jekyll himself is possibly an unaware Squib, based on certain successes, but I can’t be sure . . .

“The bottom line, however, is that nobody wants him stumbling into anything dangerous—and based on what you’ve just told me . . .” He scowled.

Rin shivered. This was one of her more frequent nightmares: the idea of a magus—a real magus—operating among wizards. That Jekyll obviously used technology, rather than magic, was immaterial; the mindset and the methodology were far more dangerous than the mediums through which he operated. And if the tomb they were looking for really was dangerous . . .

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’ll keep an eye out, and be extra cautious.”








Somewhere in Iraq
June 9, 2017







“Not. One. Word,” the Japanese-born witch growled.

“Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t know where to start,” Galen reassured her . . . and then, after a beat, added, “I mean, between losing the map, and actually being drunk enough to believe him when he said he was Tom Cruise—”

Rin abruptly threw the broom they were riding into a barrel roll. Sadly, Galen did not fall off—having been paranoid enough to cast a Sticking Charm beforehand—but the sudden surge of his acrophobia made him shut up, at least.

. . . Even if it didn’t do her hangover any favours.

Flying double on a broom, Disillusioned, was far from a comfortable way to travel; on the other hand, it was faster than most civilian means of travel. Oh sure, most road vehicles could hit or even pass a hundred miles an hour—but those same vehicles usually had to contend with road conditions, traffic, terrain issues, et cetera. Broom flight, on the other hand, could be done in straight lines, well below the level of most aircraft and well above street traffic. The only real hazards were bugs, the occasional bird, and in this particular environment, blowing sand.

This meant that the witch and wizard managed to catch up to the would-be artefact thieves relatively easily, despite the latter’s several hours’ head-start in travel time.

Unfortunately, neither Rin nor Galen had anticipated the two men’s solution to lacking any sort of excavation equipment: unbelievably, they’d called in for an air strike . . .








Rin had always known she had a history of bad luck. From the Fifth Holy Grail War on—from the Fourth, really, considering how the events of it had fallen out—it had been a habit of the universe to dump on her whenever possible, and typically when it was really important.

(And by now, she was approaching the maturity level to admit that these problems were more often than not the result of her own screw-ups—but her pride still forbade her from admitting it.)

Similarly, Rin was aware of how Galen’s luck was prone to running: flashes of brilliance, if not outright impossibility in his accomplishments, but interspersed with long periods where all of the little, tedious, day-to-day annoyances piled on. Whatever could go wrong generally did, and whatever was already wrong tended to get worse.

Still, until a couple of hours ago, it had never occurred to her what being paired together in a situation might mean, given their respective “usual luck.”

Now, however, she knew—and sadly, things had actually managed to go downhill after the missile bombardment . . . And the plane crash . . . And the—

Well. Suffice it to say that so far, “hell” was rapidly becoming a seemingly insufficient description of their current circumstances—though it might soon be a literal one.

“What exactly is it with you and undead women?!” she demanded of Galen, between gasps. “Do you give off some kind of pheromone . . .?”

The wizard was less breathless (the bastard), but no less willing to snipe. “Shut up and keep running . . .!”








Writer's Notes: A bit light in tone for the "Dark Universe," maybe - but the older Universal Monsters films could be surprisingly whimsical, at times.

Anyways, you're getting this a day earlier than usual, because you've been awfully patient with me, so I thought you deserved a treat - even if it wasn't the next chapter of "The Twilight." Enjoy!

[fsnfan]

What bar and which classic?

[Kieran]

What bar and which classic?

Casablanca. With all due respect to Bogart, Bacall, et al, it really isn't my kind of movie - but I thought a tragic romance would probably appeal to the Delacour girls (minus Rin, of course).

. . . And for those who are confused, this is all adapted from the recent Mummy movie, which has its flaws, but is nevertheless entertaining.

[Reinholdt]

The original Mummy was always an entertaining bad movie. The sequels less so. Unless you don't want to, it is easy to see why Casablanca is considered a classic. Even if it isn't your thing, it manages to stay rather engaging with only a few set pieces and just people... talking.

But yes, various characters who get up to shenanigans should always think about how their bad/strange/downright weird luck might complicate things when brought together. It's not like taunting Murphy, just acknowledging that you Always have his attention. It brings to mind a turn of phrase I ran across once that seems to apply to most of their group, "Plan for the worst, expect everything to go badly, and when pleasantly surprised when nothing does go wrong, wait for something weird to happen."

[Kieran]

The original Mummy was always an entertaining bad movie. The sequels less so.

Assuming you mean the 1932 film with Boris Karloff, I find it less "bad" than simply "old." Personally, Karloff makes it quite entertaining, for me. And the sequels . . . Well, they have their points. The Mummy's Hand introduces an entirely new set of lore, and each succeeding film tries something a little different, which adds some novelty value . . .

If, on the other hand, you're referring to the 1999 film with Brendan Fraser, I honestly think "The Mummy Returns" is the best of the bunch. The first drags a bit too long, and the third is a bit too loosely held together for my tastes - though I admire the former's homages to the original, and the latter's attempts at something new.

Unless you don't want to, it is easy to see why Casablanca is considered a classic. Even if it isn't your thing, it manages to stay rather engaging with only a few set pieces and just people... talking.

Yeah. I prefer to watch The Big Sleep or The Maltese Falcon, if I'm going to watch Bogart and Bacall.

But yes, various characters who get up to shenanigans should always think about how their bad/strange/downright weird luck might complicate things when brought together. It's not like taunting Murphy, just acknowledging that you Always have his attention. It brings to mind a turn of phrase I ran across once that seems to apply to most of their group, "Plan for the worst, expect everything to go badly, and when pleasantly surprised when nothing does go wrong, wait for something weird to happen."

. . . That pretty much sums it up, yes.

[Kieran]

The Dark Dimension
October 31, 1998







As a general rule, the Darkstalkers universe was a grim one, albeit in an often cartoonish way. Witness, for example, Lord Raptor, heavy-metal zombie rocker, whose attacks generally involved the transformation of his own body—such as “legs-into-drill”—or its manipulation, such as extending his exposed ribcage into blades to “punch” (stab) his opponents with. Or Demitri Maximoff’s “Midnight Bliss” attack, which transformed his opponent into a buxom, helpless female.

And then, of course, there was the infamous (and aforementioned) B.B. Hood . . .

Nevertheless, as a setting populated by monsters as main characters, it should come as no surprise that it was, as a rule, generally lacking in gods. Meaning, to be more specific, characters or elements with a “holy” attribute, as opposed to characters with godlike power levels—between Pyron, Jedah, and the late Lord Belial (to say nothing of Demitri or potentially, Morrigan), it had a number of the latter. The closest it had to the former, however, was Anakaris; and that was only insofar as the Egyptian pharaoh had been worshipped as a living god during his mortal reign, and venerated as an ascended being after his death.

. . . Of course, until now, the Darkstalkers universe had never included Mellinoë.

“YEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWW!” screamed the spiky-haired, skull-faced musician as the blade sliced into his half-petrified flesh.

For a brief moment, as the sword passed through him, his skeleton was thrown into stark relief, like a cartoon character when electrocuted—and a vicious-looking burn remained, where the cut had cauterised itself as it was being made. It was only possible to get a brief glimpse, however, as the self-styled Lord Raptor leaped back, out of reach of further swings.

If at all possible, the zombie looked even uglier with hate as he glared at Takara and spat, “Girlie, I’m gonna shove that pig-sticker up your—”

“Immobulus,” Takara interrupted him.

The spell was normally invisible by nature; in this world, it showed up as a series of expanding concentric rings. Still, it was fast-acting, and could be cast as a “field effect,” which allowed her to catch the zombie totally by surprise. Even so, she wasted no time in dashing in for a decapitation strike; he was crude and ugly, but he was also a soul-eating demonic zombie—there was no telling how long that spell could manage to hold him.

And knowing what she did about him, the Nanaya heiress was not inclined to take chances.

“Why couldn’t I have run into one of the nicer ones, like Felicia, or Lei Lei and her sister?” she muttered. “Even the Frankenstein guy’s not actually bad, from what I’ve heard . . .”

Yes, she had played this game and its predecessors before. Most recently, she’d done so in an arcade during their off time from Hogwarts—“mundane world immersion,” if anyone asked, but mostly a way to blow off steam that they could all enjoy. Moreover, fighting games had been her video game vice, as opposed to Momoko’s “cute” preferences and Arisa’s love of gothic horror/RPG games. Still, they’d mostly managed to agree on the “Vampire” series—or “Darkstalkers,” as it was known here, so she’d played it more often than, say, “Tekken” or “Mortal Kombat.”

And the series had never much progressed beyond the three games—and various remakes or ports of those three—in her original life, so while her experience was dated, she did recognise the Dark Dimension, and understand what she was up against. From what she remembered, this entire place was set up to collect and focus demonic energy, in hopes of creating a “Demon Messiah.” As such, cursed Darkstalkers who had been cured in previous games found they’d reacquired their former conditions, and all the characters had access to “Dark Force” power states that granted them an advantage in combat.

Takara really hoped that she didn’t have to find out what accessing the “Dark Force” did for her; it was bad enough that, given how the Dark Dimension restored and magnified curses, Galen was probably a werewolf again, and Hermione . . .

She shuddered. It was probably best not to think about that until she had to.

I really need to find the others, she thought, before sighing ruefully. Unfortunately, this place is a lot bigger than a few fight stages . . .

That was, if anything, an understatement. The game had hinted at the scope of the dimension: one of the battle stages was a moving train, after all, but that meant she had a lot of ground to cover, with no map, or even any idea of where she ought to be looking.

. . . Well, aside from the obvious, at least, she thought ruefully. Find the biggest patch of trouble, or possibility for it, and that’s where Galen will be . . .




All too easy . . .

Lilith Aenslaed smirked into the kiss, her hair and eyes shifting to their natural colours even as the blood-red bat wings flared into existence on her back. Dazed by her powers, the werewolf didn’t even notice—and was certainly in no position to protest as they opening wider, into a plethora of bladed tendrils that ensnared his body as easily she’d ensnared his mind, drawing him closer so that it would be easier to feed . . .

“This wasn’t really necessary, you know.”

Startled, the barely-pubescent-looking succubus leaped back and up, reforming her wings, as she whirled to confront—

The werewolf, in human form—despite the fact that he was still . . . No, the bestial form had vanished. It was some kind of doppelganger?

“I’m hardly unused to being a food source,” the werewolf (was he a werewolf?) remarked dryly, “For certain reasons, I’m reasonably sure my soul is strong enough to withstand a little draining, and I’d have hated to let you starve. You could simply have asked.”

Lilith tilted her head in confusion. “Human or Darkstalker, you’re very strange . . .”

“I’m hardly unused to hearing that, either,” he countered.

She looked at him with narrowed eyes as she considered his prior statements. “Werewolf, witch, and . . . Is that vampire I smell on you? Are you someone’s blood whore?” A razor-sharp grin spread across her face. “Do I have to make you bleed before you’ll like it . . .?”

He sighed. “I realise you’re supposedly Morrigan’s darker half, but that kind of come-on . . .” He blinked, before suddenly letting out a bark of laughter. “Ha! Take that, universe—I am not a lolicon!”

Lilith’s eyebrows rose, and she shifted her clothes into the traditional “Catholic schoolgirl” look: a white top and red plaid skirt. Widening her eyes, she pouted just so, and whimpered, “I’m just an innocent maiden—how could you toy with my heart . . .?”

The werewolf buried his face in his hands, briefly, and Lilith heard enough to add several new curse words to her repertoire.

Letting out a sigh, he shook his head. “In any case, I just have one question: why are you helping Jedah collect souls?”

She blinked. He knew about that? Sure, it wasn’t any big secret, but she’d been under the impression that most people outside the Dark Dimension didn’t know anything about it . . . Still, in the same vein, it wasn’t like what she wanted was any big secret, either . . .

“. . . Because he promised me a real body—my body,” she corrected herself.

It was out there—she was out there. Lilith could feel it.

“So, if I were to offer you a new deal—say, you stop collecting souls, and I’ll help you find Morrigan . . .?”

Lilith smirked. “You look like a stud, but Jedah’s a lot more powerful.”

Both were true: the guy stood literally head and shoulders (and then some) above her, and had enough muscles to make any halfway-thorough beefcake list—and Jedah, who looked a lot less muscular, would rip him in half before he could blink . . . Sadly, the compliment didn’t seem to throw him off-balance, as she’d hoped it would.

“So you’re scared of him, more than actually wanting to collect souls?”

She rolled her eyes. “I might eat them, but it’s not like I can refrigerate them . . .”

“All right, then—just wait here, and I’ll find Milady Aenslaed for you.”

Lilith snorted. “What makes you think I’ll bother doing what you say?”

At this point, the werewolf smiled, showing more, and sharper, teeth than his human mouth really ought to be able to accommodate.

“Sweetie, I’m blood-bonded to a master vampire, not to mention a Master Legilimencer and Occlumens, both—where exactly do you think you are . . .?”

[Reinholdt]

That last line takes the cake.
I know nothing of this series, but it sounds like it is dangerous for the unwary/unskilled. Neither of which any of them are at this point in their lives.

[Kieran]

That last line takes the cake.

Yeah, Lilith is about to discover that a succubus' mind-bending abilities have nothing on Galen's . . . At least, not hers - she's got power, but despite being (technically) 300+ years old, almost no experience in using it.

I know nothing of this series, but it sounds like it is dangerous for the unwary/unskilled.

Absolutely. Darkstalkers may be a Street Fighter clone, but Capcom flavoured it such that adding the Devil May Cry cast wouldn't be outside the realm of believability.

Observe . . .





And as for Galen's specific opponent . . .

Neither of which any of them are at this point in their lives.

That they are not - but for the first time in some ages, they are at a significant disadvantage when it comes to raw power. Most of the Darkstalkers probably aren't at Servant-level (with notable exceptions like Pyron, Galactus-knockoff that he is), but more than a few of them are likely pretty close.

[Kieran]

Continuing . . .








Hermione gave the Weasley twins a Look, and demanded in an exasperated tone, “Honestly! Did you two learn nothing from the last time?”

Now, she was no Takara. Without drawing on her vampirism, she wasn’t capable of generating the sort of predatory menace that her lovers could, to intimidate people. Even Nala was no real help; lionesses were huntresses, to be sure, but it was with the intent of being providers—the protectors of the pride were the males of the species . . . But that said, she was known to be the brightest witch of her generation, with a knowledge base rumoured to rival Albus Dumbledore and a tendency to go to extremes—especially in regards to protecting those she cared about.

As such, the twins were visibly wary, and she felt a vindictive pleasure at watching them blanch.

“Now, now Hermione,” Fred (presumably) said, hands held up defensively, “we were sure we’d worked out the bugs this time—”

“We’d never,” his brother interjected desperately, “have given it to them to try, otherwise.”

“Yeah, that was the point!” Fred continued. “Who better to convince of the efficacy of our product than the people who’d been put through the flaws of our prototype?”

“And even then, we were careful,” George insisted. “We told them to pick something harmless, so that if anything did go wrong, they wouldn’t be in any trouble this time.”

“ . . . And where,” Hermione said icily, “precisely, is that?”

The twins shrugged.

“Again, nothing we recognise,” Fred began.

“But it looks okay,” George concluded. “We’re just not exactly sure how to get them out of it . . .”

“Because, really,” Fred added, “with something that short, you’d think that they would be out already.”

They stepped aside, allowing Hermione to examine the item on the table.

The vampire witch stared at it briefly, before running a hand over her face and sighing, before uttering a phrase that was entirely appropriate to the situation.

“Good grief . . .”








Takara sighed. Well, I suppose the twins’ enchantments are improving—sort of.

It had taken her some time to realise what had happened, because unlike the prior experience (according to Galen and Hermione), this had seen their friends, and themselves, adapted to the characters’ roles. Thus, it hadn’t been immediately apparent that anything was wrong, exactly . . . But while the broad strokes of their identities were accurate, the details were more than a little off.

For example, in this scenario, Takara was a tomboy who was best friends with a socially-awkward but very kind bookworm, both of whom were crushing on a certain boy who was both generally oblivious and afflicted with very strange luck. This made perfect sense to her—as a generalisation, this was her life. However, Hermione did not wear glasses, Galen had no interest in sports, and she was far better than a “D-minus” student, if only because her mother would kill her if she brought home a grade that low.

Then again, there were differences, too: for example, why Rin had popped up in this scenario and Ginny had vanished. The role of the bossy, self-absorbed girl fit Rin, true—right down to the unrequited crush—but it was still an oddity.

. . . Along with why, exactly, Galen didn’t seem aware of the fact that they were under an enchantment, no matter what Takara tried to do to snap him out of his “character’s” programmed role.

“What,” she asked herself bleakly, “am I overlooking?”

And unnoticed behind her, her crush’s dog sat atop the roof of its house, in front of a typewriter, beginning the next Great American Canadian Novel . . .

[Xamusel]

...Peanuts? Seriously?!

[Kieran]

*Shrugs* I've been feeling nostalgic, of late - and you have to admit, as far as settings go, it is about as harmless as you can get. If you were trying to minimise risks in the event that something went wrong, you really can't do much better.

. . . As for the split? Well, let's face it: I am Charlie Brown (and Galen possibly even more so), but I always wanted to be Snoopy.

[Xamusel]

Kieran... you do raise a valid point. Thanks for clearing that up for me.

[Kieran]

10 Downing Street
London, 2024








“You wanted to see me, Ma’am?”

Shirou was more than a little confused as to why he’d been called; sure, he’d given after-action reports before, and received orders, but there was nothing presently ongoing that required briefing the Prime Minister on that he was aware of. And when there was, that was usually Takara’s, Hermione’s, or Ilya’s job, when it came from their level at all.

He was an operator, not a diplomat—and not a bureaucrat by any stretch of the imagination.

“Yes, Mister Emiya,” said head of state replied. “I’ve received some news I presumed you would have especial interest in, and thought that, as a matter of courtesy, I ought to deliver it personally.”

Inwardly, the ex-magus tensed. This could not possibly mean anything good . . .

The Prime Minister’s face went stony, and despite her career in politics, it visibly and audibly took effort for her to keep her voice steady as she announced, “Apparently, a Japanese corporation is planning to release their own propriety technology, based on the NerveGear.”

Shirou had often been accused of lacking imagination; for a split-second, he was thankful for it in this case—because that was so much worse than anything he could’ve possibly thought of.

Ten thousand people had logged into a brand-new MMORPG game, “Sword Art Online,” using the state-of-the-art NerveGear virtual reality system—only to discover that it had been a trap set by the creator of both. The NerveGear had been rigged to fry its wearer’s brain if the character in the game was killed, by a monster or another player—or if any attempt was made to tamper with the unit.

It had taken three days before they’d been allowed to act—days spent watching as the system, or well-intentioned efforts to help, killed off the victims. Following that, Shirou’s memories were a blur of Apparition and Portkey travel, of Vanishing NerveGear unit after NerveGear unit—no small feat, given the overall size of the system’s support apparatus. They’d been stretched thin, and pushed to their limits, always hurrying, because there were still so many more, and who knew if the bastard responsible had a kill-switch failsafe, if he figured out what they were doing . . .?

In the end, they had lost 137 players—less than two percent—before the end of it all, and officially, a classified, experimental military technology, developed in cooperation with the British Royal Navy, had been employed to completely destroy the NerveGear units.

Officially in regards to the magical world, Shirou and the others had narrowly avoided being charged with a breach of the Statute, and only because so many governments, magical and mundane, had thrown their weight around. The game and system’s availability might have been limited to Japan, but the technology’s allure had sent more than one foreign national with more money and obsession than sense on a trip to acquire it—and more than one mundane-born magical, Japanese and otherwise, as well. Effectively speaking, a note of warning had been issued, but the circumstances—and political ramifications—didn’t make charges worth pursuing.

Enough deaths had occurred that those who were freed realised how close they’d come to dying themselves; while a lot of them were kids, the same knowledge was granted to their families, as well. And while a lot of secrecy enchantments, and outright Memory Charms, had been employed, the highest authorities and a lot of their respective inner circles were informed, if unable (oftentimes literally) to reveal what they knew.

At least, not in context—but certain SAO survivors, and their relatives, were stubborn to say the least, and some were none-too-shabby when it came to getting access to information . . .

Unofficially, there were more than a few places in Japan that Shirou had received anonymous thank-you gifts from, sent care of Downing Street; and there was at least one place where it had been stated been told that he and his friends would have free food and drinks for life, should they ever come. Personally, he thought that was pretty gutsy of the owner, and he’d been tempted to give “The Dicey Café” a try.

The message had been quiet, but clear: they didn’t know who had saved them, or how, and understood that they really couldn’t know—but they wanted to acknowledge the debt just the same.

But the truth was, a tragedy had only very narrowly avoided becoming a full-blown massacre . . . And now someone was starting it up again?

“Can they be allowed to do that?” Shirou asked tightly. “I mean, if it’s based on the NerveGear—”

“Not in a way that wouldn’t prove very lengthy—and very expensive—to prove in court,” the Prime Minister replied with a sigh. “And while that might be preferable to the alternative, the fact that the corporation in question has been very careful to comply with regulations and allow access upon request would make it an unpopular decision.”

Mindful of his audience, Shirou didn’t quite snarl “Politics” in a disgusted tone—but it was close . . . Though from the Prime Minister’s expression, he might as well have.

“In any case,” she continued, “the Japanese government—all branches of it—have very thoroughly analysed this new device, and concluded that has no traps of any kind . . . But that doesn’t preclude the possibility of the software being dangerous—or manipulated once the system is up and running—and it’s been politely requested that there be some outside oversight.” She gave him an amused grin. “Apparently, your group is considered something of a good-luck charm.”

“. . . That may be,” Shirou allowed, “but none of us are programmers.”

“No,” the Prime Minister agreed, “but the Japanese government have sent us a few of the prototypes they examined, and the gaming system, along with a suggestion that their boffins from your patch have come up with.” She smiled again, this time with far more teeth.

“Apparently, they believe that because this game allows for the use of magic, given its virtual nature, you can use that factor to wield your own abilities within the game itself.” One eyebrow rose inquisitively. “Care to give it a go . . .?”

[Xamusel]

...what did I just read? ALO is being used to show why it's a bad idea for the Trinity to get involved in SAO shenanigans?

[Kieran]

...what did I just read? ALO is being used to show why it's a bad idea for the Trinity to get involved in SAO shenanigans?

. . . Well, the Trinity being involved with the Aincrad arc of Sword Art Online is a bad idea - because, as with the events of Death Note, they'll pull out all the stops and damn the consequences. As a result, many lives are saved . . . But much character development, and probably most relationships, are lost. It's unlikely any of the SAO cast even meet, aside from Kirito and Klein; and from the perspective of a fan of SAO, this is a bad thing.

. . . The "Fairy Dance" arc, on the other hand - well, it may work, but I'm wondering if they'll actually manage to crash it. Certainly, the number of errors that would crop up as the system's attempted mental manipulation hit Occlumency would cause it a lot of stress . . .

[hatori]

Since apparently the SAO incident was taken care of in maybe a week to upwards of a month ( assuming at least 30 rescues a day) I would say it's less Sugou and Kayaba... than it is Shigemura
Looks like someone's watched Ordinal Scale.

The issue with SAO is that unless you let the incident actually run it's full course, the primary aincrad and ALO arc is totally useless..

Plus, I would think that even with the whole " I believe that a different power can overcome the system".. basic parameters like spells would have to be input as code first into the game to be even useable.