A groan emanated from the Archer's lips as he attempted to reach to his head and rub his face. Everything hurt, he felt like he had the worst hangover of his life... Oh wait, he did. Can't reach up to grab his head either, must've been quite the wild night. He tried to move his arm again and immediately realized the problem. Right, no arm. A quick activation of Natural Genius and he recalled the events of the last night, including flashes of something that could only be described as a Monster trying to devour him. Yet he was still alive. How strange. Yet that didn't explain the strange feeling of something biting him or the somewhat heavy weight breathing on top of him. The crunch of sand underneath his back signified that he was likely on the beach, but the stranger feeling was the bandages on his stump and the foreign substance in his chest cavity. He certainly wasn't dying anymore, just in a lot of pain.
"Well, I suppose it's time to wake up." Tesla murmured to himself as he slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the harsh sunlight that blinded him for a moment. His pupils dilated as they adjusted to the sudden brightness of day, a curtain of purple clouding his vision still even afterwards. His robot arm slowly moved upwards, still very functional despite the massive storm that should've destroyed it, clearing away the purple... hair? Oh god.
Indeed, Shuten Douji was currently on top of his chest, nibbling on him while taking a nap. A myriad of emotions ran through Tesla's head within seconds, pure utter rage for her betrayal, joy for her coming back, relief that she hadn't killed him in his coma, confusion because she hadn't killed him in his coma, but the one that stood out the most was the love he still felt for her. How he could possibly feel love for someone who had taken both of his arms and many ribs was unknown, but he felt it regardless. A sigh escaped his lips as he picked her up with his robot arm as best he could, wincing as he felt the debris shift around inside his chest as he stood up.
"I'm absolutely mad."
The destruction that the city had gone through was horrific. Without a doubt, this was a national crisis that had never been seen before in Japan. And he had started it, if not directly than through inaction at the least. He could've stopped Shuten from starting those fires, he could have prevented this tragedy. But he didn't, because he was just so in love with her. "I suppose no normal love could ever be enough for the Modern Prometheus." He mused to himself quietly as he stared at the city before him. A minute passed before Tesla turned around, limping towards the Church with Oni under arm. "Master! I'm home!" The door was kicked open, revealing a battletorn Tesla limping through the doors with what was clearly a demon in his arm. "Get my materials ready, I need to make a new arm, posthaste! Also I'm going to need the Persian's assistance once more, there is a large hole in my chest that needs to be fixed!" And thus the mad scientist's began his work, just another day in the life of Nikola Tesla.
A merry tune echoed from the old man's lips as he walked towards the bar at the break of dawn. He was a balding old man, short, japanese, but he looked absolutely full of life to the casual observer. Except he wasn't full of life, no this was a dead man walking. The door opened quietly, the old man walking to the nearest bar stool and looking at Dionysus with a smile. The first thing he would notice was undoubtedly his eyes, glassy and dead yet looking straight at him. His skin was cold and his chest didn't move, for he had no need to breathe. The next thing he noticed would be the unfitting voice that emerged from the old man's mouth, a heavy European accent. "Hello Mr. Bartender! I would like to speak to the yakuza who own's this bar, along with his Servant!" The old man grinned, a toothless grin that should've inhibited his ability to speak yet the words that came out were as clear as day.
"You can let them know that a fellow Master would like to strike a deal after that terrible fire from last night." His hands were folded atop one another on top of the bar, revealing a crude drawing of a Command Seal, clearly done with red ink. Or perhaps blood.