51 TellTale

Shimmering blue coalesced on my raised palm, glowing particles flowing around it and through my splayed fingers almost playfully. A tentative nudge, altering the power sent through one of my many magical circuits caused the little lights to jump and move in the opposite direction...

My brow furrowed as I exerted my will, the throbbing veins on the back of my hand visible even under the glowing blue magical circuits. "Come on..." I chew my lip, giving it one final prod.

Projection.

The outline of the familiar kitchen knife appears, the particles sticking to it like glue. This wasn't my usual work however, instead, it was my attempt at altering an object. The outline was fifty percent smaller than its usual shape, I'd done the calculations needed to do it, altering the knife's altering its density to match its decreased volume, restructuring the crystalline structure of the steel, the grain, the machines of mass production that tirelessly hammered it into shape...

The worn plastic handle. the chipped tang rusted from exposure... All of it, but less, no, not less, just... Smaller.

Sweat beaded down my face as the outline in the air steadily filled in, the blue lights taking on a metallic texture as the pieced themselves together like the most difficult puzzle known to man.

Finally, as the last piece took its place and gravity took effect, it dropped to the desk before me with a metallic clang, and only now I remember to breathe.

"Hahh...." steam leaves my lungs, an unpleasant side effect from overstressing my magical circuits. While this exercise shouldn't take so much energy, I was forced to overcompensate for my lack of skill in the area.

While other Magi from what I knew filled in the gaps by imagining what should be there, such a thing was impossible if I wanted to truly grasp Emiya's Magecraft. The fact that I hadn't accounted for the accumulated experience of the knife, those that'd wielded it and how it'd even ended up in a junkyard made this 'successful' attempt a failure, in my eyes at least.

I'd managed to alter its form, make it smaller, but it wasn't the same knife. If I tried to do the same as Caledbolg like Emiya did to 'Nuke' people it'd either explode in my face or break the item in question completely.

I needed to be better, more skillful, smarter, if I wanted to achieve what he had. It was no wonder it'd taken him years to get the spells down, and he'd only managed to utilise Unlimited Bladeworks during the holy war thanks to the future Emiya giving him a kick start.

I was aware I'd be given the knowledge to use it in future, when I had enough blood to earn it. But that didn't mean I shouldn't try to improve on what I knew in this moment.

*Knock-Knock-Knock*

...

"Come in?" I call out, wiping the sweat from my face as I turn to my door. It opens and I see Armsmaster standing there with crossed arms and a small entourage behind him.

"Kieu, these are Leticia Reo and Dylan Keira, Public relations advisor," a plain-looking woman in a business suit steps to his side with a small wave, "Costume and equipment designer respectively." he nods at an Indian man in colourful and rather gaudy clothes.

"... Okay?"

The two guests look to Armsmaster after my blunt response, only for him to shrug and lean against the door frame. Looking at one another, it's Dylan who steps forward. "Kieu, it's great to finally meet you! You have no idea how many ideas I've brainstormed since you joined up with the good guys!" he smiles.

"Could you just get to why you're here? I've got more testing in," I glance at the nearby clock, huh, it took half an hour to create the mini knife? "Ten minutes."

"It's been cancelled." Armsmaster drawled.

Leticia nods, "Since you've been doing so well adjusting to things around here, the PRT felt it necessary to get things moving along. Specifically, your new identity and everything that goes with it."

I can't help but snort, "Yeah, I'll just get a haircut and wear some glasses, everyone will ignore the ears."

"They mean your hero identity." Armsmaster sighed, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else.

"Ah... Is this an offer I can reject?"

"No."

Dylan drops into a chair next to me, pushing a large notepad stinking of ink in front of me. He opens it, revealing four of five costumes designed on each page, some less developed and or thought through than others. "So, my favourite option is this," he points to a drawing of me in spandex with a helmet depicting a lioness. "As Triumph has already claimed the Lion motif, I thought it'd make sense for you two to be partners. Same colour scheme and design but with you as his sidekick."

...

"Partners, me as the lioness and him as the lion... Are you trying to imply we're fucking or something? Not only that," I eye Armsmaster, "Did you forget what happened last time I was near him? His power is sound manipulation and shouting, while I have incredibly sensitive ears." I drawl, extending a single claw from my finger and cutting that particular costume out of the book before tossing it in the bin. The aghast look on Dylan's face only made the action sweeter.

"I'm not involved with any of this." Armsmaster states.

I glare at Dylan, "If all of your ideas are this stupid we might as well stop here."

"B-b-but!"

"Don't mind Dylan, I'm here specifically to veto his more outlandish designs. He's a wonderful artist, but maybe, sometimes, too creative." Leticia pats the man on his back. "But, if we don't end up finding something suitable by the end of the week, we'll have to use something." she smirks.

He silently glowers, "In other words, 'Pick something or you get the gay lion treatment'?"

"Something like that."

"I honestly thought it was a good idea..." the man sadly mutters before perking up again and turning the page, "This one then? I'm almost absolutely certain you will like it!" he pridefully exclaims, showing me a monstrously-coloured skin tight leotard... It looked like something Captain America would wear if he was from modern California.

Dark green leggings, gold belt, and bright yellow torso. All that with a mask he must've stolen from Cat Woman. What's worse, this fucker had the audacity to include a Cat o' nine tails whip!

I calmly flip to the next page, not designing Dylan with a response. Again the centre pieces were as desirable as a lump of human shit you'd find on the pavement... Sighing hard and rubbing my face, I swipe a nearby pen and open a fresh page to doodle.

"W-wait! This is my personal design book! Don't stain my art with-, with your uneducated, uninspired spittle!" the man all but wailed. I slide him away from me by pushing his chair with a free foot, quickly finishing my drawing.

A hastily drawn depiction of me wearing boots, jeans, and a jacket worn over a regular shirt. Did I steal this from Nero in DMC5? Yeah, did I care? Not really. "There, your hero of redemption 'Insert name here'." I hold it up to Armsmaster. "Everyone knows my face, and changing my outfit ain't gonna make people forget that I'm a murderer. Play on the 'new lease on life' schtick, it'll be more authentic and'll give the PRT some leeway if I fuck it up somehow.."

...

"Hmm... Sounds good to me." the Tinker shrugs.

"But this isn't good at all!? A hero is supposed to be eye-catching in even the most chaotic disaster! Someone you can spot and know you're safe with your mere presence alone! This, is just a regular outfit a nobody wears on the street!" Dylan loudly said.

"Yeah, it'll resonate more with the public, I talked a lotta shit about the PRT's spending and uselessness in the past. It would look stupid and disingenuous if I came back wearing a fucking gold belt. Besides, with my-, extra appendages, people will spot me in a crowd even if I don't want them to." I explain.

"That reasoning is sound to me." Leticia nods.

"I'm sorry but I can't agree with this!" the designer swipes back his pad and clutches it to his chest.

"I've given you my choice, our PR advisor agreed with it, as did our top hero Armsmaster. Go peddle your crap to someone else, we're done." I grouse, standing and gesturing for the door.

...

Disgruntled and defeated, the man quietly exits, leaving us to discuss other matters. "What else is there?" I query.

"Well, once we decided on a costume we'd have to match your equipment to it, but given your choice to be a 'down to earth hero', the bare minimum modifications would only suit it more." she smiles lightly, "I was honestly dreading customizing another set like Clockblockers."

"What, clocks on everything sounds easy to me." I drawl.

"Yeah, until you need all of them to be functional and stylish while keeping to PRT operational standards. Every piece of equipment needs to be immediately identifiable as the standard use version. Try that with clocks on everything!" she groaned.

"I told you I'd handle building them if it was too much trouble." Armsmaster adds from the door.

"Sorry, but you're the last person I'd talk to about 'style'!... Ah..." she looked sheepish at the retort, "No offence?"

"None taken. Now, what else is there? I have other matters that require my attendance."

"Well, the most important thing..." she looks to me, "Your cape name."

...

...

"I'm drawing a blank here, I didn't even pick Kaibyo."

"Well you can't keep your last one, we need something new. Fresh." she snaps her fingers as if to conjure up a good suggestion.

"The Wards have Gallant and Trumph, how about Onslaught?"

"No. It literally has the first half of 'Slaughter' in it." she instantly rejects.

I folded my arms, it wasn't like I was gonna keep the name all that long. Hm, maybe that would do. "Tails." since I'm gonna have two tails soon enough.

"Tails..." Leticia parroted.

"Tails?" Armsmaster hummed.

"Tails." I nod, "Short and sweet, gives nothing away and doesn't make me want to kill myself when I hear it. It's the best I think I'm gonna get?"

"Hmmm, how about 'Tales' instead? Sounds the same but looks better on paper. Keeps people from thinking we're stereotyping you too."

I shrug, "Good enough."