Harold

Name: Harold "Harry" Scripps Gender: Male Species: Human, Magus (unwittingly) Height: 6'3" (190 cm) Age: 28 Occupation: Freelance Investigative Journalist, Master

Appearance: Painfully lanky, with a frame composed of awkward angles and frantic energy. His posture is a permanent slouch. Pale skin suggests a life lived under fluorescent office lights rather than the sun. His messy, mousy brown hair is always flattened in some places and sticking up in others by the plaid tam o' shanter hat he never removes. His most prominent feature is his wide, unblinking blue eyes, magnified to an unsettling degree by a pair of thick, round prescription glasses.

Attire: A uniform of journalistic obsession. A stained and rumpled tan trench coat covered in pockets stuffed with notebooks, pens, and mysterious lumps. Underneath is a wrinkled white dress shirt with a perpetually loose, thin black tie. His black dress pants are an inch too short, revealing mismatched socks tucked into scuffed leather shoes. He is never without his worn leather satchel, which holds audio recorders, a vintage film camera, and a collection of bizarre, personally-relevant gifts for future interview subjects.

Likes: Obscure facts, the exact breakfast someone ate on their seventh birthday, knowing the names of people's childhood imaginary friends, having copies of photos people thought were destroyed, presenting gifts that reference conversations the recipient had alone, knowing what someone whispered during their first kiss, possessing recordings of sounds from people's nightmares, the precise moment someone realizes he knows EVERYTHING, public access television, getting the "scoop," giving esoteric gifts, when people ask "How did you know that?!"

Dislikes: "No comment," redactions, censorship, small talk, people who lie to journalists, physical violence, having his glasses smudged, spoilers for stories he hasn't broken yet.

Voice: High-pitched, reedy, and perpetually trembling with nervous excitement. He speaks in rapid-fire bursts, cramming as much information as possible into a single breath. Signature intro delivered while freeze-framing: "GREETINGS! Harold Scripps here, and YOU'RE experiencing humanity's most exclusive event! But my question is… [impossibly specific personal detail about interviewee]?"

Personality: Weaponized autism meets investigative journalism. Zero self-preservation instinct, genuinely doesn't understand why Servants attacking him would take priority over "getting the shot." Views every interaction as pre-interview research. Pathologically incapable of small talk, opens conversations with deeply personal questions. His friendliness is aggressive, his curiosity is invasive, his dedication is terrifying. Believes documentation transcends mortality. Would interview his own murderer while bleeding out. Sees confidentiality as a suggestion. His moral compass points only toward "the story." Cannot comprehend why anyone wouldn't want their deepest secrets broadcast.

Habits: Before asking a question, he holds up a small, outdated microphone. When giving a gift, he freezes in a bizarre, crouched pose until the recipient takes it. Constantly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger. Ends every successful interview by freezing frame, staring directly into his Servant's camera, and whispering his sign-off: "Doot doola doot doo… scoop."

Sexual behavior: Sapiosexual to pathological degree. Can only achieve erection while uncovering classified information. Masturbates to FOIA request approvals. His porn folder is just unredacted government documents. Foreplay involves presenting partner with their complete medical history. Dirty talk is citing sources. Fetishizes information asymmetry, gets off on knowing partner's secrets while they know nothing about him. Virginity protected by absolute prioritization of "the story" over human connection. Once turned down sex to finish reading someone's leaked emails. Considers voyeurism "investigative journalism with fewer steps."

Backstory: Harold comes from a mundane family but was born with a one-in-a-million psychic mutation he mistakes for talent: an intuitive form of retrocognition that allows him to "discover" obscure information about people and objects. He just thinks he's a "really, really good researcher." While investigating a series of "unexplained demolitions" across Fuyuki, he stumbled upon the bloody aftermath of a magus duel. His obsessive desire to "know the truth" of the event resonated with the leftover magic and the Grail system itself, marking him as a Master. His wish is not to win, but to create the definitive documentary of the entire Holy Grail War.

Description: Harold Scripps is the most dangerous Master in the war, not because of his power, but because he is a walking information security breach. He seeks out other Masters and Servants not to fight, but to ambush them with a camera and questions about their third-grade teacher's name or the real reason their Noble Phantasm has a specific flaw. His first interaction with another Master would involve him popping out from behind a bush, shoving a microphone in their face, and asking something like, "Is it true you failed your alchemy exam in 2007 because you were hungover?" He is a chaotic neutral force of pure journalism, a terrifyingly effective intelligence-gatherer who doesn't even know he's playing the game.