The Manhattan Project II

[Sherrinford]

Troll!Answer: it's actually a Saber that looks exactly like the other Sabers but with a different paint job and moveset ahahahahahahhaahahahahahahahahaha

No, not really.

I am so imagining Kohaku covering her mouth with the hand whille laughing, now.

[Five_X]

Hooray for Yuri Saber!

[Sherrinford]

Hooray indeed!






... wait, what?

[Five_X]

Just to help me brush up on my Nasuverse lore, what exactly are the rules of the Grail War?

[I3uster]

Kill every Servant, win war. Avoid getting seen or the church will have to correct that. Which basically makes this rule useless.

[RR121]

The rules are "kill every other Master/servant combo, but make a reasonable effort to keep the war a secret"

If you're a bit out of line, the church will cover it up.

If you're WAY out of line, the church will give incentives for the other masters to gang up on you.

[Sherrinford]

Kill every Servant, win war. Avoid getting seen or the church will have to correct that. Which basically makes this rule useless.

Masters count too. An it's more "Avoid getting seen or no grail catalyst/whatever Kotomine has in the church for you, nope", IIRC.

[I3uster]

Well, Servants die if the Master dies, but in essence the only thing that has to die are the Servants.

[Five_X]

Thanks, everybody. I'm busy for a good chunk of the day today, but if I manage to make a couple more chapters today you'll be seeing another one posted up tonight. Hopefully, that is.

[Five_X]

So, should I upload the next chapter now or later? I've got a good backlog now, but what are your readerly opinions?

[SeiKeo]

No opinion, really. Do what you prefer.

[Five_X]

But I don't know what I prefer! D:

[Ace]

Do it now.

There is no problem with having too many updates.

[Five_X]

Alrighty then, Ace, here it is in all its glory. I prefer smaller chapters, of course, so the general length (aside from exposition heavy ones or battle scenes) will be a lot like this.


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CHAPTER III

Yes, I'm the erstwhile narrator of this story. For a simple introduction, you may simply refer to me as Nigel Lancaster, a magus hailing from London, and therefore the representative of the United Kingdom. I may officially be a magus, but I fancy myself a historian, chronicling events of the current era, most importantly this Manhattan Project II. For simple reference and to make it less of an awkward mouthful, I shall from here on out refer to this event as the Manhattan Grail War or just the Manhattan War, since effectively the object of desire here is whatever was created by the Manhattan Project II, which is in the end an imitation of the Holy Grail War, albeit an incredibly well crafted one.


Anyways, let me introduce myself in the context of this war. I do hope this doesn't take too long, but let me just tell you about my entry into the Manhattan War. It may not be as thrilling as that of James, but it certainly has value if you are someone who enjoys history and dialogues as I do.

-- --

I began and ended my summoning ritual in the earliest hours of February 3^rd, in the back yard of my summer home in Washington, D.C., more specifically in the Arlington area west of the Potomac River. The ritual went exactly as expected; much more elegantly than James', certainly. There was a grand white flash covering a swath of my yard, very possibly shocking some people who were around at that time of night, and maybe waking some sleeping neighbours as well, who knows!


In front of me stood a Servant, exuding a magical force like none other. He was clad in beaten silver-coloured armour, which I estimated to be from some point in Antiquity, before the birth of Christ. I knew that eventually I would learn his identity, but for now I greeted him, giving him my name and inviting him into my house. Admittedly I was quite fatigued at that point, from both the summoning and the late hour, so I was far from my usual talkative self.


“I am the Servant Rider, Nigel. I do hope you will be pleased with such a Servant as I, though my appearance may be humble. I will serve unto the ends of the Earth, and perhaps even beyond, to win this great war!” He turned to me and said this as we entered the house through the back door. I nodded and smiled, glad to have a confident person at my side for this war. Honestly at that point I was getting quite excited for the future. It's a bit sad to think that I really didn't have any idea as to the events that would proceed from then on. If only I had known, eh?


Rider and I sat down at my kitchen table, which was far too large for just one man, or even two. I readied some tea, and before morning truly arrived we drank together, and spoke. I did mention earlier that Servants are hard to make conversation with, but Rider was a definite exception. He was a very knowledgeable man, very down to earth, as well. I respect those kinds of traits, and from them I know that he must have been a noble person in life.


“On the subject of Servants, then, can you dematerialize much like a spiritual being? I must admit that I am not entirely informed as to your true nature.” I sipped my tea, and continued our talk.


He shook his head, making his rather short black beard sway slightly. “No, no, I cannot say that I am like that, and I believe that few other Servants summoned here will differ. I am not a spirit, but... how should I say it? I am a direct physical manifestation, made of flesh and bone just as you are. If you strike me, I shall bleed red blood as any other. At the moment of my death, I found myself being called by an external force disconnected from the world, and so I was brought here.”


I smiled over my drink. I had caught him in a good spot. “Then,” I said, “Which hero are you?”


I was certainly surprised when he did not resist my questioning at all. “You seem to be a strong-willed magus, so I shall tell you: I am none other than Hannibal Barca, general of the great city of Kart-Hadast, or Carthage as you would more likely know it.”


My hand slipped from lazily holding up my chin and fell down on the wood of the table, slamming and rattling my teacup. “Incredible! None other than Hannibal Barca... I'm inspired by your presence, sir!” Really, how else can one react when faced with anyone so great? I had known that I would summon a grand, legendary figure, but to have that confirmed – simply incredible.


Rider – or rather, Hannibal, cracked a smile. “I believe I am the Servant here. It would be poor judgement not to take your place as a Master, would it not? We are to be a team, working as one, so let there not be imbalance here. Trust me, I am equally shocked at being brought into a time such as this. How could I have ever known that civilization would advance to such heights?”


We drank our tea until my eyelids could not help but sink from tiredness. The next morning, no doubt, we would both begin preparations for the Manhattan Grail War. Above all I dearly wanted to win, though even at this early stage I could feel my resolve to wish for an end to the Cold War slipping. This situation transcended all of that global nonsense.


In the morning, there honestly wasn't much to do. Hannibal and I spoke some more, and I had him dress in clothes that a more modern person would wear, and as Washington is a considerably busy city, we had little choice but to wait until nightfall to report to the Manhattan War's Church overseer. Only a few people walked the streets late at night, and even then a good number of those people were drunks, so there was little need to be stealthy. Hannibal and I looked just as any regular pair of people would, making our way north to the Oak Hill chapel. It was still winter in the city, and a chill wind blew all about. In Britain I had known some harsh winters, but I had never thought that the heart of modern America would see temperatures below zero Celsius!


My choice to travel to America earlier than required seemed to have paid off. The War had only just begun, and at most there were perhaps two or three other Masters who had completed their rituals. The American representative most certainly was ready, and I imagined that the magi from the Warsaw Pact countries would be here last. If anyone, I dreaded them. Whereas a Master from America or France or Germany or anywhere on our side would likely be amiable, what with our goals being the same, the Communists would have an immediate and negative disposition towards me.


Luckily, Hannibal and I reached the chapel without incident, and there awaiting our arrival was George Coleman, a resident of this place and a member of the Church, who were not as simple and peace-loving as one might expect. No, this man was here to watch over the Manhattan Grail War, making sure that nothing went too out of bounds and that the competition remained exactly that. Immediately he recognized me and my Servant beside me. He was certainly a priest of the Church, dressed in his long, dark robes and wearing a gilded cross necklace. I had met him before, in Britain, where a number of the prospective Masters had gathered. Of all of us, he had taken an interest in me. I still am not sure if that was inherently good or ill.


“Nigel, you're here early.” He said in his aged, but not yet raspy voice, “I trust that all is well?”


I smirked. “You know me, eh? I'm always right as rain in these kinds of situations, and I personally foresee quite an interesting spectacle coming to this city. How are you going to keep it a secret with twenty-three Servants?”


“I am glad you asked that. Simply enough, I shall-” His sentence stopped immediately as he noticed the presence of another who had just entered the chapel. Of course I wanted to see what was causing the disturbance, so I looked behind myself, as did Hannibal, and what else did I see but a young and dead tired looking man being followed most silently by a blonde, armoured girl. Now this, I knew, was a predicament. The chapel was holy, neutral ground, but what would happen as soon as we stepped outside of its doors?


Well, as much as you may be enjoying my first person narrative, I'm afraid that in the name of historical neutrality, I must work towards an unbiased account of this war by telling its story and its history from the third person. It's more than a little awkward to speak about myself in such a way, but alas! It is necessary.


From here, once more, we shall follow the path of James. Don't worry, dear reader, there will still be much more of myself and Hannibal in the future.


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There it is. Not much happened, but in the next chapter...

[SeiKeo]

Hannibal? That is going to be a though Rider to beat.

[Five_X]

Trust me, these two are hardly the most powerful Servants that are going to be summoned. I do believe I said back in the Fanfic Ideas thread that there would be familiar faces showing up, too~!

[SeiKeo]

Ooooh, this'll be good. Hope that Washington survives though: I like the place.

[Five_X]

I'll try to keep it intact, don't worry! At worst I'll wank into existence some magic spell that the war's supervisor has that resets damage to the city. I dunno yet!

[Sherrinford]

I prefer smaller chapters, of course, so the general length (aside from exposition heavy ones or battle scenes) will be a lot like this.

Eh, good. I'm not a fan of looooong chapters.

Question: how old is Nigel?

[Five_X]

Nigel? I'd say he's roughly around his thirties, maybe getting into his forties. In comparison, James is in his very early twenties.

And to go with that, here I have a new chapter! The next one's going to involve a serious path-taking decision on your collective part, because I think it's fun to get people involved in this.


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CHAPTER IV

James calmly ignored the two men already present before the priest, and began to speak. “Good evening, Father, it's a pleasure to meet you. Behind me I have my Servant-” he hitched his thumb backwards, pointing at the girl, “-and I'm ready to officially enter the war. Is there anything you need to explain first before I leave?”


The priest nodded and turned, walking behind a pedestal with a thick, musty book as the only object adorning it. He turned a few of its pages with delicate movements of his hand, and stopped.


“As there are two Masters here, it is simplest for me to read out the rules of the Manhattan Project as they are. If you still have questions afterwards, then ask them and make them hasty. You two may be the first but you are not the last who will come here.”


He commanded the attention of both James and Nigel, and by extension their Servants behind and beside them, respectively.


“This war must be kept an absolute secret from those mundane residents of the city. I will do my best to keep a bounded field active around some of the more... active areas of Washington, but for the sake of secrecy you must do battle only at night.” He skipped to another page of his tome. “You both have three command seals. Use these as you wish, however understand that their purpose is to give absolute orders to your Servant, allowing them to push past their normal limitations. If all three are used, then you are at an extreme risk of losing your Servant's obedience and thus your capability as a Master in this war. I would suggest using a maximum of two command seals, if you so choose to use them at all. If you do anything with them, however, under no circumstances or emotional state should you merely waste them. Understand their power, their strengths as well as their limitations.” George turned back to the page he was on before. “This chapel is hallowed ground, a place where no fighting can take place. If your Servant is killed, you may stay here for protection for the duration of the war, however if your seek protection while you are still competing, this will be taken as a point against you and even if you are the last Master with the last Servant remaining, you may not necessarily be named the victor. The winner of the war shall be given one wish, of their choice.” He spoke those last words as if the 'choice' should be obvious. “Do either of you have any questions at all?”


James and Nigel remained silent, and instead it was the Servant Rider who spoke up. “If my Master and I win, and although that is a large leap of faith to make at this point, I must ask: is it true that the Servant is given a wish in the same manner as the Master?” Hannibal's tone was strong and determined, and while James was almost awed by this Servant's independence, Nigel smiled with the feeling of superiority this brought on, to have such a strong-willed Servant.


Still at his pedestal, George looked around various pages, until he pressed his index finger against one specific one, scanning down the lines of the paper. “Yes, that is true, Servant Rider. In order to properly summon each Servant, a wish was allowed for them, giving them incentive to appear and to win the war. Those who created this Manhattan Project did not just assume that such powerful beings would be working solely upon the whims of their summoners, after all.” Hannibal nodded. That answer was certainly acceptable enough.


The priest stood still, his hands folded together on top of the now closed book. With no more questions, he gestured quickly for Nigel and James to leave the premises, and so they did.


“I think I've got it now, Saber. You understood the rules too, right?” James asked his Servant. She merely nodded without a word.


“Hold, there, magi.” Came the priest's booming voice once more. “I shall give you one, single hint as to what direction either of you could take, should you think yourselves ready: a second Rider has been summoned, in Arlington. The Master is one of the two representatives of Poland, so unless something even I could not foresee comes to pass, this one Servant should not be much of a challenge to your two, as long as you, James, and you, Nigel, are willing to be partners for the time being.”


James and Nigel looked at each other, their only introduction having been George just stating both of their names. They at least understood that they were 'on the same side' in regards to political alliances, so a limited partnership did not seem to be of much harm at that point, especially with so little competition. So it was that they shook hands just outside of the chapel, marking their temporary truce in order to defeat the many greater foes that soon would be arriving. As Servants required such immense levels of magical energy to maintain, any other besides Assassin would be easily noticed by James, Nigel, or either of their Servants. Though the normal nightly hazards of a large city meant nothing to a trained magus and even less to a Servant, night was the main time that the greatest of dangers would be prowling the area. As prepared as they were, in the earliest stages of the war there would naturally be chaos and confusion. It was just a matter of how well these four dealt with what was given to them for the time being.


Of the two Masters, Nigel was the most talkative, keeping conversation active despite the wishes of James and his Servant. “Ah, Saber? Impressive, impressive. I almost wish I had been gifted with such a powerful Servant, but I think I should be satisfied with my Rider.” Just as between a Master and Servant, conversation between two magi who had no connection to each other was rare. Even Nigel wasn't all too different from most magi.


“What is your goal?” James' question was asked sharply, with little feeling.


Nigel adjusted his glasses and thought on that for a moment. “Honestly,” he said, “I'm not entirely sure, myself. I'm sure that ending the Cold War is a noble thing to wish for, but... well, I'm not one to want to make history. See, I just record it. If things like that are so important to you, then maybe I'll think about what I want, but not now.”


With their Servants, they passed through the old Georgetown area of Washington, and subsequently crossed over the Key Bridge, built forty years prior. The bridge, normally busy with traffic and pedestrians during the day, was silent, lit with forlorn street lamps along its edges, showing that the four walking its length were the only people in the area. Off in the distance were grand cathedral spires poking above the trees, a sight that looked like it was lifted out of a medieval European city, not the capital of the United States. There was an immediate contrast, too, between the stark black asphalt and the aged bricks of the Key Bridge; modernity and the old world. Ahead were trees and gardens, a very natural area that was almost a park in its own right, with curved streets and sidewalks spoiling the natural rolling hills. In essence, it was perfectly peaceful, tranquil, and calm as the black night surrounding the four. The only sounds were the buzz of the lampposts and the caressing of the waves against the shore below.


Lit by a single, tall light were two silhouettes like ancient pilgrims on the way to their holy site. At any other time, this would be completely normal, and these two would pass the four who were up ahead. Tonight, though, and any other night this month, there was a different emotion in the air. Tonight there was a challenge, and even a weak magus could sense the hulking mass of magical energy walking towards the bridge in the shape of an ordinary person. A Servant, and its Master. They both stopped, a dozen metres in front of Nigel and James, but from their figures, neither group looked at all frightened.


In reality, James was shaking. He did his best to hide it, but the force that stood in its imposing manner felt greater even than that of the Rider and Saber that opposed it.


Nigel's pleasant disposition swiftly changed into one more suited to a magus. He had experience, much more than what James could attest to, and the initial shock of the Manhattan Grail War had all but worn off. His Servant was ready before he gave his first command, and Nigel set himself in a ready posture, as the enemy Master ahead raised their arm, very obviously about to order the Servant beside them to attack.


“Do not hold back on them. Go, Alexander-!”


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Yes.