Preface

As always, blame Aria. Everything is Aria's fault, even when it's Peach's fault. And Azazyel. He's a shit. Also, fuck that Miss Fortune. That is all.

Spit of Spite 2.4

John Soprano

*Thwack*

The meaty sound of my shinai meeting Missy's forehead echoed in my back lot. Usually, this lot behind a restaurant was reserved for the dumpster and employee parking, but I shoved the dumpsters out into a nearby alley when I bought the place. With the Gate of Skye, it wasn't as though I needed them. And seeing how I lived above my restaurant and was faster than a car, I didn't exactly need the parking space either.

Currently, more than half the lot was shaded from the rain and snow. Two rows of long, tube-like smokers occupied the shade, alongside an enormous pile of wood and bags of wood chips, each organized by the type of tree. A small preparatory station sat outside on a metal stand for last minute trimmings, or so I could cut a quick snack off the end of a brisket while I worked.

Which left the other half of the lot free for use as a training area. I swept the place, wished up an elevated wooden stage, and then layered that with tatami mats, just like in a traditional dojo.

"Hiyaahhh!" Missy let loose a valiant warcry as she charged me, a dull, weighted replica of Caliburn in hand. She stepped in with her right foot, thrusting towards my throat. It was cute, like a lion cub growling and pawing at the curtains.

I caught faux-Caliburn on the back of my bamboo shinai. Then, with a swift twist of my wrist, my blade lanced forward to smack her on the forehead. Again.

If one were inclined to listen, the faint roaring of a tiger could be heard in the distance.

*Thwack*

"Ow! Why does that hurt so much?" she complained, rubbing the rapidly growing red welt.

"Because pain is an excellent teacher," I said languidly as I slung my new favorite sword over my shoulder. I was no master swordsman, but I did have Artoria's memories I could scan from the real Caliburn Missy left leaning against the wall. Shirou was also happy to give her pointers that I repeated out loud. "Your footwork needs to be tighter. When you lunge, don't step past your shoulders or you'll destabilize your own center of gravity."

"I'm trying but it's hard. I didn't know there was so much to swordsmanship…"

"There isn't. When you get down to it, swordsmanship is the art of sticking the pointy end in the other guy. All the little adjustments? Those are just how to optimally stick the pointy end in the other guy."

"Gee, that makes me feel better," she said sarcastically. Still, she held her sword at the ready. "Again?"

"Sure. Come at me, saber-lily."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Because it fits-" I dodged out of the way with a smile. I was the one who told her that "Talking in battle is a sin" after all. Tora-Shinai lashed out like the pouncing apex predator it was named for, biting into her hand before she could draw it back.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" she yelped, her sword clattering to the ground.

"Vista!" Miss Militia chided. She'd taken a seat on a nearby bench. There was no way in hell the PRT would let some random, unaffiliated cape train a Ward to use a WMD without supervision.

Next to her, Dinah did her level best to deplete my stash of candied bacon. She didn't need to be here, but showed up for "moral support." I didn't know how she got permission; I didn't ask.

I laughed and twirled the demonic sword in hand. "It's fine, it's just us anyway, Hannah."

"I really wish you'd use my cape name, Mr. Soprano."

"Hmm… Nah."

"And why does your shinai have a dog tag?"

I glanced at the tiger-striped charm attached to the tsuba. "It's not a dog tag; it's a charm. Tora-Shinai is a demonic sword sealed and guarded by the Fujimura yakuza group. Its original wielder was their yakuza princess, Taiga Fujimura, who was called the Tiger of Fuyuki. Her legend is one of fierce, ruthless domination in kendo tournaments and ravenous hunger in the Emiya household. She was a merciless tyrant who prowled the halls of Homamura like a stalking tigress. Truly, her story is a legend worthy of song."

"I somehow doubt that the bamboo sword is demonic."

I dodged a few swings from Missy as I kept up the conversation. She was good for a tween, but that really wasn't saying much. Another flick of my blade made her drop her sword again.

"Don't let go of your sword," I barked. "I don't care if your fingers shatter. Hold onto it with your teeth if you must, but never drop your blade!"

"That makes no sense! How am I supposed to fight with a sword in my mouth?" she complained.

"Doesn't matter. If I cut off your hand, your sword better be attached to it!"

"You know, I thought training would be a lot more fun," she grumbled.

That got a bark of laughter from me and Shirou alike. Fun? Artoria's school of hard knocks? Even vicariously, there was no way either of us would go easy on a wielder of Caliburn. We respected Artoria's legacy too much for that.

"What do you think you lack?"

"What?"

"As I said. What is it you lack as a swordsman?"

"I don't know… cool techniques?" she asked with a shrug. "Like, you keep doing that weird flourish to catch my handguard on your shinai. And then my sword goes flying and I have no idea how you're doing it."

"You want to learn that move?"

"Uh-huh! Can I?"

"No."

"You suck…"

"Not yet. Because what you lack isn't cool techniques. What you lack, Missy, is vision."

"I have no idea what you mean. You know, terrible metaphors and a dumb story about a demonic shinai doesn't make you Japanese," she sassed. "Ow!"

I withdrew Tora-Shinai with a smug grin. "The story's as real as King Arthur's. And I'm at least part Japanese, deep inside my soul. There's even a dense harem protagonist who rants about sushi and cream cheese in here. More importantly, I wasn't making a metaphor; I meant that literally: Your vision is lacking."

"Which means…?"

"You said it yourself, kid. You can't see my sword. I'm not moving any faster than a human can normally. In fact, I'm not moving any faster than a teenager can normally. You're losing track of my sword because your eyes haven't adjusted. And when you do manage to see the angle I'm striking from, your body doesn't have the time to react."

"Okay, that makes sense. How do we fix that?"

"Experience. Lots and lots of experience," I replied with a shark-like grin. "Which means we'll be spending however much time we have with me clubbing you over the head."

"Why do I get the feeling you're enjoying this?"

"Because I am. It's not often some poor sap walks into my shop asking to be beat up."

"You're a sadist."

"And proud of it. Now, guard up!"

X

Francis Krouse

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

We'd just arrived in the city after the mess with Accord and Cody.

Coil promised much. He said he'd pay us handsomely. He said he'd look into different capes around the world to find a power that might synergize with Noelle. He had the money and the PRT connections to back his talk, but I wasn't blind. He was using me. Using us.

That was fine, so long as he fulfilled his end of the bargain, we'd follow along. Mercenary work was hardly the most problematic thing we'd ever done anyway. And, if it turned out he was full of empty promises, we were so much stronger than him that it didn't matter.

Accepting his deal seemed like a no-brainer. Here was a cape with lots of cash and connections. Here was a city with Panacea. If nothing else, coming to Brockton should have allowed us to live comfortably for a while, to rest after the shitshow with Cody and Accord.

And then, someone got rid of Coil.

It happened so fast that we didn't even hear about it until it was over. We were hanging out in our wing of Coil's base when one of the unpowered mercs rushed into my room, saying something about how Coil had been kidnapped. Someone, somehow, had infiltrated the base and taken the gang leader off the board, leaving behind a cheeky post-it note that read:

The Lady of Hats was here.

PS: Don't find me.

At first, we thought this was a fucking joke, some kind of twisted test of loyalty. Maybe Coil wanted to see who would try to usurp his organization in his absence so he could come back and trim the fat.

And yet, no matter what emergency protocols we tried to use to reach him, we heard nothing. Even days later, after several mercenary captains gave up their contracts and took their squads out of the city, Coil was silent. Coil was a thinker. A bit of insanity was expected. And yet, I doubted collapsing his own organization was a part of some greater scheme.

A few of the captains agreed with me and began to look for this "Lady of Hats." Close to a dozen mercenaries turned up dead in their sleep and the ones remaining got the message. Some silent killer wanted the organization gone so they packed up and left for greener pastures.

I squeezed one of Coil's accountants, but the same thing happened with Coil's assets. Before anyone could do anything about it, they'd all evaporated into so much smoke.

Noelle needed to eat. I'd thrown that creepy-ass nurse, Pitter, into her room but I knew it wouldn't be enough. She could go days without eating in a pinch, but she needed biomass.

I wasn't sure what we'd do. Time was running out for us.

"What now?" Luke asked, feet up on the coffee table. We were gathered in the lounge of a safehouse independent of the base.

Truthfully, we weren't sure if this one was compromised as well, but there was no way to tell one way or the other. Only people who sought answers got killed, so I assumed the "Lady of Hats" had no interest in Coil's real estate.

Either way, we'd synced sleep schedules with Jess so she could keep an eye out for us with her projection. Just in case.

Luke wanted to leave the city. So did Mars. But with Noelle and Jess, mobility wasn't something we were all that good at, not if we wanted to do it quietly. Hell, that didn't solve the hunger issue. Right now, Noelle was stuck in an abandoned endbringer shelter with no money and no subordinates we could count on.

Hell, even the Undersiders were gone. I'd known Coil owned those guys, but they'd vanished like his money. All I knew for sure was that Tattletale, Coil's pet thinker, spoke to the new Kingmaker guy. And a woman in a hat had appeared. It wasn't much, but that was the lead I had.

"We take stock. We reorient," Noelle said through the intercom. She was always good at keeping a cool head, even now, no matter what she looked like. "Let's talk about what we have. We have a base. Safe to say, we have the most firepower of any group in the city. I don't think the Lady of Hats is after us."

"Are you saying we should take over Coil's territory? Establish ourselves as a gang?" Jess asked.

"I'm saying it's an option. Or we move on. I don't know where. Maybe south, out of New England. Or west, out into the country. I could… I could eat a horse."

We chuckled weakly at the joke.

"This is Kingmaker's fault," I growled. "That fucker said something to Tattletale. Then some teleporter shows up. I bet she killed Coil."

"We don't know that," Luke said. "Coil could be alive."

"Does it matter?"

"We also don't know if she's the Lady of Hats in the note."

"Who else? Who else do we know had contact with Coil's organization? Wasn't there something that merc said? How one of the squads got skewered to the ground by their shadows? It was Kingmaker. No one else makes bullshit weapons like that. He's working with that hat girl."

"Okay, but that doesn't mean he snuck inside to kill Coil. The guy doesn't give a damn about the gangs."

"And you believe him?" I scoffed.

"Guys, enough," Mars said, ever the peacekeeper. "Please don't fight. We need to stick together right now. What do we need to have, Noelle?"

"Assets," she replied immediately. "Money. Vehicles for transport. Food… for me. No matter what we decide moving forward, we need more of everything."

"So we're right back to stealing then…"

"Hey, don't be like that, Mars," I said, putting an arm around her. An idea was starting to come together. "You know it needs to be done. We need it more anyway. And… And you know what? Why not target Kingmaker?"

"Krouse, you're a dumbass," Luke said. "Why the hell would we go fight someone who can apparently cut the sea in half?"

"Because this is his fault! Who else? And guess who can make infinite gold?"

"So what? So what if he's in with the Lady of Hats? So what if he arranged to have Coil offed and dumped into the sea or something? We're going to avenge Coil? I don't want to sleep with one eye open for the rest of my life, thanks," Jess said. "Do you have any idea how boring you all look when you're asleep?

"If we have Kingmaker, we can get him to cooperate. He probably thought everyone would disband without Coil. No way he thought we'd come for him, if he even knew about us at all.."

Luke shook his head. "This is stupid. Kingmaker's a thinker. Or he knows a thinker. Trying to guess what he knows is pointless. We'll be making an enemy who's at least as dangerous as Accord, and for what? Gold? Is that what it's about? I thought this was about Noelle."

"Fuck you, Luke. You shut your goddamn mouth. You know what this is about? It's about the guy who makes infinite fucking food. How's that sound? We press him and she never has to go hungry again. No more murder. No more stealing. One guy. One job."

"He's got a point," Oliver said quietly. His face flickered slightly as his power changed his appearance. "And we have Coil's base. It doesn't seem like anyone's coming back. Whoever offed Coil and his mercs isn't interested in this place or us."

"Exactly! It's… It's not a cure, but…"

"But if we have enough money, we could build our own network," Noelle finished for me. "We could ask around and build inroads with different factions, all while I'm… stable…. This is just like Ransack, guys. We're just in the preparatory phase before a raid."

We talked over a few other ideas, but none were as promising, as likely to work. In the end, we were desperate, and Kingmaker was a big, fucking golden goose.

"Let's do it," Mars said finally, defeated.

She was the gentlest of us. I knew, I knew how our jobs grated on her. She'd love nothing more than to retire for good and never use her power again. The idea of one final job appealed to her more than anyone. And with her buy-in, I knew we had our next mission.

X

Scathach

I sighed as a pile of food waste dumped itself onto my front porch. It was like clockwork. Every day at midnight, a Gate of Skye opened up and a pile of waste found itself on my doorstep. I spotted beef and pork rib bones, whole chicken carcasses, and containers filled with cheesy noodles, corn, and some sort of mashed cabbage.

This had been happening for a month now and it was starting to get on my nerves. I'd been patient. I'd been downright generous.

At first, it was a little funny. Someone, somehow, had managed to make a hole into the Land of Shadows. How long had it been since someone had managed such a thing without my involvement? And judging by the containers, he'd done this in the modern world at that.

A modern magus opened the Gate of Skye.

How impressive! What a talent! Surely someone like that was a once in a millennium genius, the kind who, had he been born during the Age of Gods, might well have attained immortality and carved his name into the very stars!

And yet, as a bowl of mashed potatoes made a wet, squelching plop onto my porch, my eyebrow twitched with irritation.

Someone opened the Gate of Skye. And they were using it as a garbage disposal.

The part of me that was curious, that was eager to see a new hero rise, was quickly being smothered by my irritation. In a way, it didn't matter. A bit of litter was nothing compared to what was already here. After all, the Land of Shadows was a place occupied by wraiths and godlike entities, and it was my duty to slay all who sought to enter the mortal world.

Queen? I was a guard dog, no better than my old student.

But the disrespect…

Surely, a magus of such potential knew what he was doing. There was no way he wasn't aware of where the Gate of Skye led; It was in the name!

Which meant he had to have been doing this on purpose. Maybe he thought I could not leave the isle and so he was free to heap insults upon my doorstep. Maybe he truly was clueless, an idiot-savant who didn't know any better.

Either way, for the first time in over two millennia, I had a reason to leave.

Just when I was about to trace the gate to the mortal world, a second gate opened up. This time, the gate deposited a brown paper bag at my feet, far from the detritus earlier.

Curious, I opened it up and was assaulted with a delicious barrage of smells. Inside were a collection of foil-wrapped meats, with a variety of side dishes that looked much more appetizing when not in a garbage bag.

Attached was a note:

Bribe. Sorry. Please and thank you?

– John Soprano

I scoffed at that. As if a single meal would be enough to sway my spear. How arrogant was this brat?

I sideyed the spread. Then again… How long had it been since I'd partaken of mortal food, never mind a spread like this?

Before I knew it, I'd unwrapped it all and placed the meal on a nearby boulder. It was… enticing.

Was he a magus who studied food? Was there such a thing?

I brought the large, beef rib to my lips and moaned as an explosion of flavor hit my tongue. It was simply seasoned, with salt, pepper, and not much else, but the hit of smoke complemented the natural flavors of the beef perfectly. Its juices coated my mouth and, for a moment, I forgot all about murdering the uppity magus.

I was a simple woman at heart, the kind that loved battle and respected courage. I could not think of a braver fool than a mortal who'd open the Gate of Skye so he could use it as his garbage disposal.

As I savored the last chicken wing, I wondered if I should visit the mortal world after all. Perhaps, perhaps he did not need to die. Perhaps I ought to be forgiving for a little while longer. Perhaps I would get a new student out of this, one who came with delicious, delicious food.

Or… Or maybe not. Did I want a student who was more obsessed with cooking than being a warrior? He clearly knew what the Gate of Skye was, hence the bribe.

I obliterated the pile of trash with a flick of my wrist. If he ever tossed trash into my realm without sending me tribute, I'd pay him a visit. Until then, it wasn't so bad, having a vassal. After all, a queen ought to have retainers.

Author's Note

Francis is gonna Francis. To be fair, John really does have the solution to their problems. They could ask nicely… but then they wouldn't be parahumans.

I don't know where Scathach came from. It was a joke Aria made, about using the Gate of Skye as a vacuum. This just kinda happened.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find me on FFnet, Royal Road, Space Battles, Sufficient Velocity, and Questionable Questing.