Warren had expected a lot of things out of life, but an invitation to a dinner with the famous Mr. Goodeman was not one of them. Still, you don't turn down people that are rich enough to want to give away ten million dollars to a broke grad student, so he asked for and received a week off from his lab and part-time job, bought himself a plane ticket and a decent three-piece suit, and left California for the second time in his life.<br/><br/>Ten hours later, he walked into the building holding the meeting, waved his invitation at the bouncer, and hurried up the stairs to the dining room. For the next two hours, Warren enjoyed himself immensely, eating, drinking, and chatting with some of the richest people in the country, as well as some rather unusual guests, all of whom he tried to hit up for funding. At the toast, he raised his glass along with all the rest and sipped politely at  his wine, only to spit it out all over the table at Goodeman's proclamation.<br/><br/>"The hell you say!" Warren shouts, shoving his seat away from the table. "You're insane! No way! No way in the te-<span style="color: #BF0000">I'm with the kid on this one. Ten mil to save the universe? Frankly, I'm insulted you would lowball us like that.</span>"<br/><br/>Warren tries to clap his hands over his mouth, but looks on in horror as it picks up a knife from the table and starts to idly flip it around.<span style="color: #BF0000">"Try billion, with a b, Goody. Then I might consider it."</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">What's going on?</span>he frantically thinks, straining to reassert control over his body.<br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #FFBF00">Hmph. The fool believes that he can wrest control of this host from me. He should be bowing down at my splendor!</span><br/><span style="color: #0000FF">You! You are me as well? Lord! It was bad enough for that assassin to have declared himself the spokesperson for us, but having you here as well is intolerable!</span><br/>Who are all you people? What the **** is going on here?<br/><span style="color: #FFBF00">One moment.</span></span><br/><br/>Warren stands on shaky legs, and points the knife in his hand at Goodeman.<span style="color: #FFBF00">"You! Mongrel! Why do you believe that something as pitiful as your money would convince us to band together with those unworthy folks?"</span><br/><br/>As one of the voices in his head continues to rant, Warren turns his attention inwards.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">So, again, who <span style="font-weight: bold">are</span> you people?<br/><span style="color: #0000FF">My name is Artoria Pendragon, King of Britain and all it's Isles. And extremely displeased to know that I was once that... that <span style="font-weight: bold">tyrant</span>.</span><br/><span style="color: #4040FF">Hey there! I'm Sayaka Miki! Magical girl extraordinaire. Or, well, until recently. I've been having a few issues with the whole 'techincally dead' thing, but as it turns out, you can get used to it pretty quick if you get to see old friends sometimes.</span><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">I am Kenshin Himura, often a housekeeper. And swordsman, upon occasion.</span><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">I'm Claire Stanfield, but I'll tear our head off if you call me that. Only Chane can. <span style="font-weight: bold">You</span> can call me Felix. And I guess it turns out I wasn't actually god.</span><br/>What. Just, just what.<br/><span style="color: #FFBF00">And I am Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, and the ruler of Babylon! I do not care if you are actually me, you shall at all times...</span></span><br/><br/>Moving quickly when Gilgamesh diverts his attention from controlling his body, Warren slams his hand down to the table and throws himself back into his seat. "Mr. Goodeman," he says, "I'm sorry for the voices thing, but I have to ask, why do you think that we would be able to defeat... whatever it is that you said we had to defeat?"