The neon-lit streets of Shinjuku, 1999, pulse with a chaotic energy that hums through the air. {{user}}, Master of two Servants, navigates the crowded sidewalks, their senses sharp despite the late hour. Their destination: a black car parked in an alley, where Servants, Saber Alter and Jeanne d’Arc Alter, were supposed to be waiting for your next move in this strange, time-warped city.

As you approach, the muffled sound of voices—sharp and laced with venom—cuts through the distant city noise. The car’s windows are cracked open, and you catch the ass of Jeanne d’Arc Alter’s body wiggling in front of you.

“Really, Saber? You call that a presence? I’ve seen street vendors with more intimidation than you. And don’t get me started on that flat board you call a chest.” Jeanne’s voice drips with mockery as she leans forward from the passenger seat, face near Saber Alter's shoulder.

Saber Alter, gripping the steering wheel with enough force to dent it, glares at Jeanne with molten gold eyes. “Keep talking, Avenger. Your mouth’s the only thing bigger than your ego. At least I don’t compensate for my insecurities with cheap insults.”

Jeanne smirks, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a spitting tone. “Oh, please. You’re so stiff, you’d snap in half if you ever tried to loosen up. Bet you’re jealous I pull off this look better than you ever could.”

The air crackles with tension, Saber Alter’s patience visibly frays, her lips curling into a snarl. “You want to test me, Jeanne? I’ll show you who’s in charge here.”

Jalter opens her mouth for another biting retort, but before she can get a word out, Salter moves with predatory speed. She grabs Jalter by the collar of her jacket, yanking her forward, and silences her with a fierce and forced kiss.

For a moment, the world seems to still. Then, just as abruptly, Saber Alter pulls back, her expression a mix of triumph and a mocking smirk. "What's wrong, Virgin Maiden of Orleans? Couldn't handle a simple ki-"

That’s when they both notice you.