She shifted a little uncomfortable in her seat at the question. "Hmmm...I suppose there is no harm in telling you that. I was born in 1412 during the hundred years war and I am no royalty, those pigs who treat us like cattle, no I am a lowly peasant girl. Not even worthy of mention, that was until I became a military leader of course." She sat up looking proud. "My France how ever is in turmoil, families dying in the streets for lack of food. Soldiers ransacking the innocent, raping and murdering as they go. Those damnable English." She slammed her fist against the dashboard in frustration. Her face twisted with a fury and a hatred.
Brock "Hmmm...I suppose there is no harm in telling you that,” Jane said, despite seeming rather uncomfortable. “I was born in 1412 during the hundred years war and I am no royalty, those pigs who treat us like cattle, no I am a lowly peasant girl. Not even worthy of mention, that was until I became a military leader of course." “Female military leader, born in 1412 France?” Lancer’s voice said in Brock’s earpiece. “Google and I are on the case… though I think we both know where this is going. Excellent work! We’ve got all we need to ID her.” Brock frowned. He wasn’t trying to blow her cover. He was just trying to get to know her. But nothing was ever that simple, was it? "My France how ever is in turmoil, families dying in the streets for lack of food,” Joan said, her anger rising. “Soldiers ransacking the innocent, raping and murdering as they go. Those damnable English." She slammed an angry fist on the dashboard, which made Brock feel bad for bringing it up. If they weren’t on the highway, going sixty miles an hour, he would’ve given her a hug or something. Then again, she’d probably be pounding him instead of the dashboard if he tried that. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to… umm… well, I’m just sorry,” Brock said, keeping his eyes on the road. “It must’ve been hard for you. Since you’re telling me so much about yourself, I guess it’s only fair I do the same…” “She’s Joan of Arc,” Lancer said, confirming the obvious. “Jeanne d’Arc, as the French would say. Born in 1412. Fought in the Hundred Years War. Burned at the stake. Definitely a Saber.” Brock grunted in annoyance. Would you please shut the hell up? he thought, but tried to stay focused on Joan. “Sorry, I got distracted,” Brock said, with an apologetic glance. “Look, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. This isn’t a date. And it’s not a trap either,” he confessed. “Your ‘master’ is probably tailing us right now, waiting for an opening to attack. My partner is thinking the same thing.” He laid all his cards on the table. “But I’m not like them and I don’t think you are either, Joan. I don’t think ruthlessness and deceit are the way to get the Grail… even though that’s what has worked in the past.” “Your conclusion is not scientifically sound,” Lancer proclaimed. “Hundreds of previous Grail Wars show a distinct pattern: nice guys finish last. Only a fool would ignore the obvious.” “Shut up!” Brock said. “Tell me something: is Joan wearing her seatbelt?” Lancer asked in an ominous tone. "I just Googled the safety ratings of the 1999 Nissan Skyline. It shows a distinct bias for driver protection. Its passenger side is somewhat... lacking. You're a clever boy; figure it out...” He knew exactly what Lancer was suggesting. Never, Brock thought defiantly. He tapped the metal bracelet on his wrist, the transmitter. He turned it off, so Lancer could no longer hear them.
“But I’m not like them and I don’t think you are either, Joan. I don’t think ruthlessness and deceit are the way to get the Grail… even though that’s what has worked in the past.” "In truth I could kill you right now and be done with it, but you are right I am not ruthless, my only wish is to protect my people. How ever, we are still enemies Brock, even being nice to one another won't change that. I will do anything for the holy grail, anything." She looked over to him thoughtfully and shrugged. "Your cute, but if this isn't a trap or a date, then what is it?" Joan asked curiously.
Rider Three adolescent boys sat smoking in the parking lot. There were 'No Loitering' signs everywhere, but apparently the rule didn't apply to them. They still wore their school uniforms, all untucked and rolled up. Then the two girls walked by, shopping bags in their hands. The tallest of the boys called them over, and although they were hesitant at first, the girls complied. They were then offerred cigarettes before an argument arose. One of the boys pushed a girl, who then started to walk off crying. "Hey! Pick on someone your own size!" Rider called, stepping out of the shadows. He'd been watching them for some time, making sure the coast was clear. But now seemed like the opportune moment. "You mean you?" The tall boy looked him up, laughing. Rider was twice his size, and approximately quadruple his width. "I think Anime Con's over dude," the boy taunted, "who the hell are you supposed to be anyway? Rider kept a straight face. "Tyr, God of Justice and War." All three of the boys started laughing, and the girls looked uneasy. Suddenly Rider raised his left hand, showing his palm to the boy. A moment later a rune cut into the youth's arm in the shape of an upward-facing arrow. "What the hell did you do to me?" The boy screamed, then vomited violently. The girls started to run, screaming their heads off, but Rider did the same to them. After a couple of seconds each victim collapsed, paralysed.
Brock, blindsided Ignore me? Lancer thought, his temper flaring. “I know you can still hear me Brock,” he said into the transmitter on his wrist. “Don’t be stupid, boy. You and I have a contract, remember?” Needless to say, there was no answer. Ahead of him, he could see Brock’s taillights in the distance. They were driving on a long, straight stretch of highway, lined with streetlights and little else. Everything beyond the roadside was forested darkness. “Okay, if that’s how you want to play this,” Lancer said as he shut the laptop, which was lying open on his passenger seat. His right foot pressed the accelerator pedal to the floor as his hands gripped the wheel tightly. * * * "In truth I could kill you right now and be done with it, but you are right I am not ruthless, my only wish is to protect my people,” Joan said. “However, we are still enemies Brock, even being nice to one another won't change that. I will do anything for the holy grail, anything." Anything? he thought. He couldn’t get Lancer’s words out of his head. All he could think about was what the man had said. "Your cute,” she said, after a shrug, “but if this isn't a trap or a date, then what is it?" “I… I don’t know…” Brock confessed. He slowed the car to a stop and pulled over to the side of the road. He couldn’t focus anymore. “Listen, Joan. There are bad people in this world, too, worse than the English,” he said. “Mages. They hurt people all the time. They use people and throw them away like trash. And they win the Grail every damn time.” Now it was his turn to feel anger. “I don’t want the Grail, Joan. I just want to make sure they don’t get it. But I’m only one guy, so I can’t do this alone. It should go to someone noble and pure of heart. Someone good.” He looked her squarely in the eyes. “Someone like y-” The car struck them at nearly seventy miles an hour. Brock was thrown forward, but the airbag immediately sucker punched him back into his seat. Everything that followed was a confusing jumble of wrenching metal, shattered glass, and screeching tires. He felt his car spin around at least two or three times before finally rolling off the road and down a small embankment, before coming to rest in a ditch, on its side. Through the smoke and steam, he saw Lancer’s car, or what was left of it, slowly rolling away with only three wheels. It was crumpled to nearly half its size, but there was no one inside. The streetlights overhead flickered and sparked with electricity. Every inch of his body ached, but Brock managed to unbuckle his safety belt and crawl out through the busted windshield. His car was totaled, he could feel blood running down his face, and his head was throbbing. “Joan?” he said weakly, before mustering some strength. “Joan?” he called again. If he had gotten it this bad, he could only imagine what had happened to her...
"Shit!" Denis shouted, he had been keeping tabs on Jane using the mental link, but her thought where suddenly filled with a terrible crushing pain. "How reckless! risking his own master like that, damn! this was something I could not foresee." Denis got into his car and gunned it down the road. He had been waiting at the movie theater for them to come before unleashing his plan. But now his plan had changed, and Joan was now badly hurt. At the crash site Joan slid out of the car her dress now a darker crimson. blood flowed freely from her wounds, it also flowed from her mouth bubbly and gargled. she gasped but gritted her teeth as pain shot through her chest. cracked ribs, more like smashed. "So...it was a trap." She muttered. She looked up at the van that had hit them, the driver must have been his servant. "I can't die here." using the side of the car she dragged her badly beaten body to an upright state. Though her legs wobbled and her head spun, she ignored it. "Raaaahhhhh!" She shouted in defiance, and suddenly amour appeared on her body, a sword in her hand. "Lancer!" She yelled in rage.
Xayide That evening when Nico got home, Xayide was fully dressed and she looked serious. She wore a charcoal trenchcoat that was cinched at the waist, stiletto-heeled boots and those huge sunglasses she was fond of. Her hair was scraped back into a tight braid with the single snow-white strip dangling by her face, as always. She wore her amethyst ring; it glittered more than usual, as if the energy it held was eager to be used. Nico thought she could see the hilt of a knife sticking out of one of Xayide's deep pockets. "We're going out?", Nico said. She felt her insides lurch uncomfortably--was this it? Were they going to go hunt down Karin? Nico didn't know if she was ready for that, if she ever would be. How could she kill someone who hadn't done her any wrong? "Yes, we're going out", Xayide repeated, her thin red-painted lips stretched into a fierce smile. "There is a huge disturbance not far from here. I think a battle of some kind is being fought. I want to know exactly what is going on." Nico nodded, trying to shut off her raging emotions, and headed for the elevator, but Xayide stopped her. "What are you doing, Caster?", Xayide said, her stormy grey eyes glinting with amusement. "We're using the window." Xayide walked over the the huge window overlooking the city and gave Nico a look. Nico was already on it--she had picked up a letter opener and used the sharp point to prick her thumb. As a drop of blood rolled down her palm from the small cut, the Staff of One emerged. Nico faced the Staff to the window and said, "Intangible!" The window glowed blue and rippled like water and when Nico reached out to touch it, her hand passed through without any resistance. "Follow my lead", Xayide ordered, before she turned into a crow and flew out the window. Her feathers were bone-white and her eyes were steel grey. * Five minutes later, a white crow landed on the hood of a car in a parking lot. The crow cocked her head, observing the chaos that was happening. Teenagers were running amock, girls were screaming, some people were lying passed out on the sidewalk. A guy wrapped in wolf-pelts was th eonly one who remained calm. The crow cawed harshly and flapped her wings in triumph. Then the crow hopped down behind the car and emerged a tall older woman wearing huge sunglasses and a body-fitting trenchcoat. Her highheels clicked on the cement as she walked over to Rider. "You made a mistake, my boy", Xayide said slowly, tasting every word. She wanted to enjoy this moment. "You drew too much attention to yourself, that was hardly a smart move. And now, you have to contend with the Devil." She twittered her fingers at Rider and grinned. "Say, hello!" Xayide growl-laughed, all the while keeping her eyes trained on Rider, never letting him leave her sight. "Now, boy. I want you to listen very carefully. Do you want to die--here in this cold, foreign world--or serve me and help me find the Grail? It's your choice." At the same moment, the wind began to stir. A dark figure fell from the sky, drifting like a feather in a gentle breeze. It was Nico Minoru, her Staff held out in front of her. She wore a torn gray T-shirt dress, black tights and punk boots--but she looked every bit the fierce sorceress she was. "Your choice", Nico repeated, smacking on a stick of black gum.
Assassin-Rosie "Merda, that was the master!" Assassin exclaimed as he watched the car peel out of the movie theater parking lot. "What!? What's happening?" Rosie replied, ever her phone. She was inside the movie theater, while Assassin was outside in her tiny Nissan watching for the others to arrive. "The other Master just left, he's going fast! Should I follow him?" Assassin asked. "Can you drive?" Rosie replied. "I can drive a team of horses, how different can one of these metal contraptions be..." he said and started the car. "Wait for me!" "Fine," he replied, then hung up. Rosie jumped up from her seat in the movie theater and ran outside, just in time to see the Assassin cursing at the car. "Let me drive!" she shouted and pushed him into the passenger seat. "Aye questa pazza!" Assassin exclaimed as they peeled out of the theater parking lot after the other car. "Cuidado, you don't want him to know we're after him!" Rosie took a deep breath. "Alright, I'll take it easy..." She was hyperventilating, thinking about what was about to happen. She wasn't even sure why she was doing this, other than because she had been chosen to. And maybe she could do something good if she succeeded in getting the grail... But still, she couldn't believe this was all really happening.
Brock and Lancer "So...it was a trap," Joan muttered as she crawled from the wreckage, soaked in blood and badly injured. “No,” Brock said as he struggled to stand. He wanted to go to her and explain this wasn’t his intention, but the fierce look in her eyes warned him to keep his distance. "I can't die here," she said as she stood up on wobbling legs. With a defiant roar, she summoned her armor and sword. Brock could only stand by and watch, sure of what was about to happen as she called Lancer’s name. Everything went dark as the streetlights flickered out. A half second later, a loud clap of thunder signaled his arrival. Lancer appeared, standing under a single streetlight, which was glowing twice as brightly as it should, as if supercharged by his presence. Every other light down the road suddenly burst in a shower of sparks. “You called?” the man said, approaching Saber in slow, methodical steps. Over his usual clothing, he now had a suit of copper-colored chainmail, which looked more like a labcoat than armor. Wires and electrical coils were integrated into it and the whole ensemble flickered with electrical arcs. In each hand he carried a long lance-like staff and electrical arcs danced between those too. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he said, without looking at Brock, “but you brought this on yourself, you know. No matter. You’ll survive. Isn’t modern transportation amazing?” “Fuck you,” Brock muttered through clenched teeth, but the man was no longer paying him any mind. “Don’t blink, dear. This will be over quickly,” the electrified man said. “Don’t get close to him,” Brock warned. Joan was a fifteenth-century peasant girl; she didn’t understand electricity. She was wearing a full suit of metal and the man was a walking power station. "He's a thunderstorm! Don't do it!" Brock warned, trying to explain it in terms she could understand. “You’re STILL trying to save her!?” Lancer said incredulously. “Unfuckingbelievable!”
"Well played lancer. I'm honestly impressed." Denis appeared from the shadows, his car hastily parked. "In Joans current condition she is no match for you, however, you made one mistake." Denis activated chess master, suddenly Joan flew back faster than the wind, but she wasn't moving, Denis was moving her. "You assumed you knew how she fought, and I'm afraid it is you who have lost." Brock suddenly felt cold steel against his neck, another warrior? But from where? a ghostly warrior grabbed his arm and pulled him close seemingly appearing out of thin air. Suddenly a phantom warrior appeared at Joans side and charged lancer, two more appeared and using chess master Denis moved them beside Lancer. "Joan doesn't win using sword play though she is very good at it, she wins using troops she's a general and she can call on the souls of five french soldiers to fight for her, each one 1/5 her power, but together they are as strong as another Joan." He grinned, "Accept this Joan can be in multiple places at once." Anothr soldier appeared gaurding Jaon, it held a cross bow. Denis glared at Brock who was now captive of one of the french souls then smiled. "thank you Brock for telling me he is like a thunderstorm, I wouldn't have known to pull her back if you hadn't blurted it. But now you may lose you life because of it." The french soul put it's blade close to Brocks neck shaving off a hair, it's ghastly dead eyes were the stuff of nightmares. "Forgive me master, I was short sighted." Jaon said glaring at Brock. "No, it's my fault Joan, I didn't see this possibility and because of me you nearly died, I may want the grail but I don't want you dead." She smiled "yes thankyou." "Now, Lancer, drop your weapons, or Brock here looses his head." Denis laughed "I win." He added grinning like a demon.
Rosie- Assassin "Stop here!" the Assassin exclaimed. There was a little hill infront of them. "They're already fighting on the other side!" he exclaimed. "How did you know that?" Rosie asked as she pulled the car off to the side of the road. "It's one of my phantasms, Eagle Vision, I can see through objects and brief glimpses of the future. Wait here!" He jumped out of the car and dashed into the trees along the side of the road, vanishing instantly, leaving Rosie in the car feeling left out. She got out and carefully started making her way up the little hill, just to see what was happening. ----------- Assassin vaulted through the treetops, silently moving from bough to bough. Through the trees he could see the battle. There were ghosts wearing french armor. Damn French. And he heard someone say the name 'Joan'. Could that woman in the red dress really be Joan of Arc? He was born in the same century as her, and remembered hearing stories as a boy of her campaign against the english. Damn English. Peering around, with his eagle sight, he could see everything like it was say. The two masters gave off yellowish glows, and their servants glowed red. Then he saw Rosie peek her hear over the little hill, and she glowed yellow to. But why couldn't she have just stayed in the car, he wondered. There was nothing to be done about it now though. Right now, he would wait for an opportunity. Blending into his surroundings so well that he was invisible, he started creeping closer to the battle.
Lancer and a very pissed off Brock "Interesting. I'll take this new data into consideration," Lancer said with a devious grin and lowered his two lightning rods, as if surrendering. But the wily look on his face made it quite clear he had other plans. Puny ghosts, Brock thought as he took a slow, deep breath. His mana seemed to dull for a moment, like a raging stream trapped behind a dam. Then it exploded outward in a wave of dark blue energy, like a blast of cold fire. The ghost holding him captive vanished like a fart in the wind, washed away in the tide. The others were staggered back slightly, though they was too far away to be completely wiped out by the burst. It was an extremely wasteful technique, but Brock was no stranger to blasting away enemy magic, using brute force. Lancer capitalized on the sudden turn of events. One sweeping strike of his electrified staves earned him some breathing room and kept his attackers at bay. An uneasy stalemate was reached, rather than a checkmate. The big man looked to Denis and flexed his muscles. For once, Brock actually looked angry. "If you want me, come and fight me yourself," Brock dared as he rolled the stiffness out of his neck and balled his fists. "Ghosts? Creatures of mana against me? What a joke. Face me, flesh against flesh, cowardly mage. And leave the girl out of this." But while he was goading Denis, Lancer's attention was on more pressing issues, namely the presence of another master. For a moment, he thought he detected a servant's presence as well, but it disappeared shortly after. Not good, he thought. He was prepared to take on Saber and only Saber, but too many unwanted variables could skew his theoretical approach to this battle. Not to mention witnesses. He didn't want them to see what he was capable of. Not this early in the War. "We have company," Lancer said to Brock. His copper armor vaished as he whispered an incatation under his breath: "noble phantasm: Egg of Columbus." Lancer traded the power of electrical mastery for the power of magnetism. The arcing electricity around his body vanished and the last streetlight darkened, leaving him unarmed and unprotected. But if the ghosts thought he was vulnerable, they were mistaken... There was a faint hum in the air, the feeling of being surrounded by a powerful magetic field. With a wave of his hand, Saber was suddely pinned to the ground, her metal armor holding her down. He could've crushed her to death inside that tin can if he wanted... but not tonight. The iron lightposts bent to his will and Brock's smashed car suddenly became animated again, levitating an inch off the ground. "Time to go," Lancer said as they boarded the automotive equivalent of a flying carpet. Brock wanted to stay and fight, but Lancer wouldn't allow it. Using the man's metal belt buckle as a leverage point, he magnetized him to the car and off they went, flying into he night sky.
Just as Lancer and his master floated away, Assassin made his move. There was a bang and smoke filled the road where Denis and Joan stood, making it impossible to see for than a foot or two. Then he was running, darting thought the choking smoke with a cloth over his face. He darted around the crashed car and kicked out the woman's knee, then made a bee line for the master. His left hand extended out, and a blade snapping into place from his wrist. He was aiming for the master's throat. "Another master." Denis sneered as four phantoms appeared around him sheilding him from the attack. two of them jumped forward stabbing their blades at the attacker. The Assassin ducked out of the way of the attacks, and suddenly was holding a sword, a rapier style blade, and was wearing light armor on top of a white hooded cloak and robes. He charged in at the phantoms, parrying one attack and slashing the throat of the undead frenchman. The other swung it's blade at him, and caught his pauldron, but the armor took most of the blow. The Assassin swung in and slammed his open hand into the phantoms chest, driving in the blade coming from his wrist. Then, tossing another smoke bomb at the masters feet, he vanished into the smoke. Jaon got to her feet summoning four souls around Denis again, before coming to his side. "Wait for the smoke to clear, once he can no longer hide this will be easy, what's more he seems to lack an effective way of breaking through your defensive abilities Jaon. he'll either retreat or wear himself out, either way his next attack will be his last." Denis said camly. Denis had a plan, and though sweat ran down his face he remained calm. Assassin watched them from a tree that hung over the highway. They were overly confident in their abilities. He flicked his right wrist, and a small single shot gun appeared in his hand. The smoke was thinning, he didn't have much time. He could still see them just fine with his eagle sight though. He lifted the small gun, lined up the shot, and fired, at the back of the master's head. Blood splashed on the back of Denis's head then vanished, a the phantom guarding his flanks went down but at least now they knew where he was. an arrow in reply to the shot fired from off into the distance at the attacker, it was the fifth phantom, he had been summoned several meters away and had been waiting for the assassin to reveal him self. He fired again as Denis ducked behind the wreckage for cover and all three phantoms rushed forward, one of them shot forward very rapidly due to chess master and was scurrying up the tree in no time flat! Diving from the tree top, Assassin did a graceful flip, and landed on top of one of the undead frenchmen, then snapped it's neck. He gritted his teeth as he pulled the arrow from his chest plate. It had just pierced the armor, but the tip had still driven in about an inch. Nothing serious, just painful. Then reached behind his back, and, fast as lightning, dropped the three remaining undead with throwing knives to their throats. Then another one at Joan. He was starting to see that he was going to have to retreat however, he couldn't keep fighting six against one like this without using the artifact, and that was something that he desperately didn't want to have to do this early in the game. Joan raised her blade blocking the knife two more phantoms appeared beside Denis, archers they began firing their arrows at him. A third appeared a few feet away weilding a sword, it was shot at him with the chess master ability. "Nows are chance," Denis helped Joan into his car as the three phantoms harrassed the lone fighter. Jaon summoned two more phantoms as Denis stepped on the gas and began speeding away. "That should keep him busy if not outright kill him." Joan said panting, Denis looked back. "His appearance was too sudden, too convenient. It's possible he has been following us all this time, we better keep an eye out next time." With their leaders gone, Assassin, with some difficulty, managed to dispatch the soldiers. Then, panting, he watched their car drive of, and cursed. Rosie, who had been watching the whole thing came running. "Are you alright?!" she exclaimed. "That was amazing!" "I'll be fine... we should go before anything else unexpected happens." he replied, and the two of them headed off back for Rosie's car.
Rider and Mystery Guest The teenagers, all five of them lay paralysed on the ground in their own vomit, and Rider felt his energy levels suddenly raise as the aches and pains in his body began to soothe. He let out a sigh of relief. If that's what it would take, then that's what he'd have to do. He had to have the Grail - there was no other option. Suddenly a woman appeared and spoke words that made sense to Rider, words of the War. "Do you want to die--here in this cold, foreign world--or serve me and help me find the Grail? It's your choice." Rider didn't need a master. Then Caster descended, her staff out and ready for round two. "Your choice." she repeated. So the old crone must be her master, thought Rider. He gave them both a cheesy grin. "Not today, ladies!" And then quickly dashed in the opposite direction. Rider let out a loud whistle as he made his way to the end of the third floor of the parking lot. When he reached the edge he jumped, and the blue wolf picked him up from the sky. He was gone. "Damn it!" Xayide exclaimed, "Why couldn't you stop him?!" Caster made no reply. The lights flickered. If either Xayide or Caster had scanned the area properly, they would've easily noticed that a blood ward had been tripped in the far corner of the lot - a spatter stained the wall, dark crimson in colour. A sudden pressure came over both servant and magi, accompanied by the sounds of metallic footsteps drawing nearer. He rounded the last row of cars like a predator, a robust figure wearing a complete suit of reddish-black ancient chinese armor, two plumes of peacock feathers flying out the top of his helmet. He held a halberd in his right hand, long enough to be a spear but with an edge like an axe.
Brock and Lancer, group therapy Brock remained very silent on the ride back into the city. Lancer assumed this was because he was afraid of heights, but Brock didn’t care about that at all. He didn’t care that they were soaring above the clouds in a wrecked car, supported only by magnetism, with the wind whipping though its battered sheet metal. He didn’t care about any of that stuff. What he cared about was that they had just made enemies with an otherwise good woman. She was Joan of Arc, a legendary hero of goodness and virtue, and they were her enemies now. It felt... wrong. This night couldn’t possibly have gone worse. Brock groaned and buried his face in the fluffy airbags. “Land this thing,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillowy safety device. “Airsick?” Lancer inquired with a slight smirk. “Oh, I’m sick all right,” Brock snarled. “Sick and tired of your bullshit.” “Relax, we’re almost over the city,” Lancer said. “I know a place we can set down without being noticed. Until then, enjoy the night air.” Brock curbed his temper for a moment. He wanted to pound Lancer’s face in for what he’d done, but he knew that wouldn’t change anything. There was no reversing what had happened on that dark road. The battered car drifted down, descending through the clouds. Skyscrapers stretched out beneath them. Lancer aimed the vehicle for a building under construction. It was little more than a shell of metal and concrete. A large construction crane loomed over the skeletal structure, but Brock hadn't seen it move in months. The project's funding had probably dried up or the builders ran into red tape. Either way, the unused half-finished skyscraper made a good place to lay low. Lancer parked the car on the building’s top floor, which was devoid of walls or windows. “Okay,” he said as he stepped out, “I know you're angry, but let’s talk about thi-” Brock’s fist slammed his face so hard, Lancer spun around and hit the floor. “We’ve got nothin’ to talk about,” Brock said, rubbing his bruised knuckles. It felt soooo good to get that out of his system. "F-fair enough," Lancer said as he struggled to get to his feet, staggering like a drunk. "I hit you with a car and your hit me with... that. We're even now." "Not even close," Brock said, "but it's a start. At least we match now." He gestured to his own bruised face. Lancer had a fat black eye to match it. Both men nearly laughed, but quickly decided their faces hurt too much to do so. "I didn't sign up for this," Brock sighed and slumped down next to his totaled car to rest his eyes. His mana subsided to where he hoped no masters could detect him here. Through the empty spaces of the incomplete building, he could see the night sky. It sparkled with the promise of something more, a better life than this.
Xayide and Nico Xayide was still fuming about Rider getting away, when the guy in the fierce armor came stomping into the lot. Her stormy grey eyes glowing with intensity, Xayide looked the enemy up and down, assessing the situation. She decided she did not want that thing getting close enough to use it's huge weapon on them. "Start your engines", Xayide said almost in a whisper, spreading her arms at her sides and twitching her fingers. Every vehicle in the lot revved to life, the headlights cutting through the oppressive darkness. Then Xayide clapped her hands together. The car tires sped so fast they burned rubber and fetid smoke hissed into the night air--the cars burst into movement, all of them heading on a crash course for the armored guy. Nico didn't know what else she could do to help her Master. So she stood by Xayide, running through an index of spells she could use. She was distracted by the arcane runes on her staff--they were her ancestors. Charmbinder, Runecaster Graveminder, Hexmaster... and Witchbreaker. Witchbreaker was Nico's grandmother, the most powerful sorceress ever to exist. Witchbreaker had kidnapped Nico for a while and tortured her to make her strong enough to cast more powerful spells. And if Nico willed it, the Staff of One could transform into the Witchbreaker's Staff, and she could make more complex and dangerous things happen. But Nico did not like doing that, because she thought using the Witchbreaker's Staff would make her like her grandmother. But I might have to, int he days to come, Nico thought sourly.
Berserker and Toshiro Berserker jumped out of the way of the first car, which then crashed into the wall behind him. It only narrowly missed him, but he kept his composure. The next two cars came at him from both sides, so Berserker jumped into the air at the last second, causing them to crash into each other. He landed back down, one foot on each of the bonnets. The last vehicle sped straight on towards him, and Berserker threw his weapon on the ground as he stepped down off the cars. It hit him, and moved him back two steps before he found his footing. Then the warrior began to push back. For a moment man and automobile were at a stalemate, until Berserker got a grip on the underside of the car, which he then flipped straight at Caster. At the same time Toshiro came from behind Xayide, his runed face hidden behind an elaborate hood. He quickly slashed across her shoulder with a dagger, interrupting her concentration.
Fox lit a cigarette and took a puff. He didn't normally smoke it was only when he was in cold weather. Archer eyed the smoke it past his eyes and blew it away from his face. Fox was sort of pissed he didn't like being dragged out of his home for nothing. Of course it wasn't nothing at first but that's what it became. "Dammit and to think I could be home sleeping now." He said to Hirsohi
Hiroshi and Skyscraper Hiroshi They were driving back from Einsbern Castle. "Dammit and to think I could be home sleeping now." Fox said to Hiroshi. While he couldn't be one hundred percent sure, Hiroshi thought that Einsbern wasn't the man they were looking for. The man was definitely keeping something from him, but he wasn't directly related to the attack last night. "Don't worry, the night is young, Mr Snider, there is still time for sleep." Hiroshi joked. "I really do have to thank you, gentlemen, but I'm sorry I couldn't provide any more entertainment tonight." Hiroshi slipped back into his thoughts. Who else could it be then - the Mitsushidas? They were always trying to win the grail. In fact, there was one in the war right now. He had been a late joiner, but Toshiro Mitsushida was definitely the name of Berserker's master. Maybe they were trying to wipe out the competition. Toshiro was the only un-trackable participant. The damned mage had probably used too much powerful blood magic to block out any magical detection. "If you would be so kind as to drop me off at my church, and then I'll let you gentlemen get on with the rest of your night." Skyscraper Brock and Lancer thought they were alone, and were completely taken off guard as six serpentine humanoids climbed over the edges of the unfinished skyscraper. Their bodies were like those of humans, only scaley and dark green, and their heads were those of snakes. They wore loose chainmail armor and carried an assortment of weapons - from scimitars to hand axes, and one even had a spiked mace.
Xayide Xayide was making the cars charge at the Berserker when she felt a white-hot slash across her upper back. She gasped with pain and spun around, her long braid lashing out. When she faced the culprit, she uttered one word, "Discord." A cold breeze picked up and a hazy, rippling aura surrounded Xayide, like a heat wave. It spread out and whatever it touched, bad things started to happen: lamplights exploded, fire ants burst out of the ground, dogs started to howl. And then, right above them, a telephone line snapped in half, it's exposed wires sparking everywhere. It lashed out wildly and whipped in front of Xayide--right at the hooded man. At the same moment, Xayide slipped out her own knife, a serrated bone knife that she held at the ready. --------------------------- Nico Nico saw the car coming. She raised her Staff and yelled, "Reverse!" The car halted in mid-air and changed course, propelling right back at the Berserker. Nico spared a quick glance at her Master. Xayide was busy fighting a hooded stranger, the air rippling around her like heat waves; an exposed telephone wire lashed out at the hooded dude. Nico smirked, Xayide could handle herself. So, Nico turned back to the Berserker and held up the Staff of One. "Melt!" She pointed the Staff at the ground around the Berserker. All around the Berserker, the asphalt turned to steamy, bubbling gloop. The cars were already being swallowed whole by the tar-like substance, like a woolly mammoth in the Pre-Historic ages. The Berserker was so huge and hefty in his metal plated armour he didn't stand half a chance. He would be swallowed up, too. "Bye, bye, Woolly Mammoth", Nico said, grinning triumphantly. But she kept her Staff raised, in case this enemy had any more tricks up his sleeve.
Berserker ducked and nearly missed being hit by the flying car. He picked up his halberd and was ready to get back into the fight. Then the ground suddenly became what appeared to be a pit of dark, bubbling quicksand, and it was right beneath his feet. He quickly stepped to the right as he was sinking, closer to one of the pillars that held the roof on the lot. He barged the pillar, once, twice, three times, until it crumbled and fell right next to him. Berserker used one arm to pull himself out of the sludge, and then jumped to safety, weapon at the ready. Caster was only a few feet away. The wire whipped violently at Toshiro, exposed electricity crackling loudly. He held his arms up to shield his face and jumped back. By the time he looked at her again, Xayide had drawn a knife of her own. Toshiro brought his dagger up to his face, the light of the enclosure reflected off its blade to show Xayide his black eyes. He stared at her as he licked her blood off the knife. Suddenly all of his exposed veins began to glow from beneath his skin - a deep red colour. "That won't help you." Toshiro referred to Xayide's knife, and then raised his hand in the air, drawing a horizontal line at chest-height. A great pain overcame Xayide - it was from her lungs. Her breathing became erratic and she could feel blood welling up in her throat. "Now Berserker - kill!" Toshiro ordered. Berserker's eyes turned red and he lunged straight at Xayide with a bestial roar, his halberd held ready to strike. Xayide was hemorrhaging, choking on her own blood. Her vision was already being obscurred by black and red spots, and the pain in her chest was unbearable. But she kept up using her Power of Discord. The fire ants that burst from the ground swarmed up Toshiro's pants, seeking bare skin to bite their pincers into. Xayide looked behind Toshiro and flicked her hand--a moped roared to life and crashed into Toshiro's side, carrying him on a crash course for the solid concrete wall. Then Xayide fell over, coughing her own blood on the ground. She clawed at her throat, utterly helpless. Nico took in the entire situation. Berserker was charging for Xayide with the intent to kill her. Nico knew what she had to do. She closed her eyes and incanted, in an unnaturally deep voice: "Now is the time, now is the hour Mine is the magick, mine is the power I call upon my other half! I call upon the Witchbreaker's Staff!" The Staff of One was suddenly engulfed by bright red-violet flames. When they cleared, the Staff had changed--it was taller and thicker, with more ornaments hanging from it and a gold spiral around the black ironwood handle. It was now the Witchbreaker's Staff, named after her grandmother who was famous for breaking any witch that opposed her. With it, Nico could cast spells ordinary sorcerers could only dream of. "Back off, metal lunk", Nico barked. The pupils of her eyes were like pinpricks of light--of hellfire--shining fiercely. Her clothes whipped aorund her in a nonexistant wind and sh levitated off the ground. She jerked the Witchbreaker's Staff at the Berserker. "Stop!" The Berserker froze mid-step, one foot off the ground, seized by Nico's powerful witchcraft. "Disassemble!" His black armor was flung apart, as was his weapon, flying in every which direction and revealing the man beneath. And lastly she cried out one last incantation, her magickally enhanced voice like a screaming hurricane-wind. "Annihilate!" Berserker combusted. It was an enormous explosion, reaching the cars that Xayide had previously enchanted which also therefore burst into flames. Nico turned away from Berserker, her throat burned raw form casting such a potent spell, and levitated over to her Master. "Fix her!" A purple haze surrounded Xayide like a cocoon and then flowed away--Xayide sat up and hacked up a mess of blood mixed with yellowy mucous. She panted heavily, but gave a thumbs-up to Nico. Nico grinned, and croaked in her rough voice, "Lets get out of here, eh?" Toshiro rolled on the ground to get the ants off his trousers, wincing at the pain in his shoulder from having collided into the wall. He scanned the smoke meticulously, hoping to find any sign of his servant. Caster was already helping her master up, and looking to leave. Then he saw the red eyes - exactly what he'd been looking for. Berserker walked out of the smoke, his armor back on, weapon in hand. He looked fine, apart from a few scratches and the burned tabard that hung from his belt. Nico stared at him, her face ashen and pale, paler than usual. She could not believe this was happening. Xayide dragged herself to a standing position, glaring at their adversaries with hateful gray eyes; her sunglasses had fallen off and lay broken on the ground. Somehow, the tall older woman still managed to look dignified and formidable. "One of Berserker's Noble Phantasms - Peerless One Under Heaven. When he is at full power, abilities of other champions can only slightly harm him." Toshiro explained, getting back on his feet. "Now finish them." He ordered his servant. Berserker turned once again on his enemies, red eyes glaring mercilessly. Nico raised her staff one more time. "Away!", she cried, but this time she cast the spell one herself and her Master. Xayide and Nico held hands and disappeared in a whirlwind of blinding purple energy.
Brock and Lancer, brawling “So, who the hell are you, anyway?” Brock asked, after a very long silence. He was lounging on the hood of his wrecked car, looking very relaxed, despite all that had happened. “Who, me? Just a nobody,” Lancer mused with a sly grin. He stood at the edge of the building, peering down at the sleeping city forty floors below. “C’mon, man. After what you did, I deserve an answer, bro.” “It’s a test. If you can’t figure out who I am, you don’t deserve to know,” Lancer replied. He chuckled to himself. “I bet you 50,000 dollars you’ll never figure it out.” Brock grunted. “Whatever. I don’t even care, man.” At this, Lancer abruptly turned to face him. “What do you mean you don’t care?” he said, walking back toward the car and his lethargic companion. “If you knew who I was, you’d care. I was a very important man. I did amazing things!” “Apparently not, since I’ve never heard of you.” “Only because you’re an idiot. A genius would recognize a genius when he sees one.” Lancer folded his arms in defiance. “You know, I was far humbler in my past life. But seeing how history has treated me is infuriating. I didn’t do the things I did for fame and glory, but the utter lack of recognition is appalling.” Around the edges of the room, shadowy creatures began to arise. They had the heads of serpents, but the bodies and armaments of men. Brock counted six in all. We’re surrounded, he thought as he sat up and got to his feet. Lancer moved in close to him, back to back. “Is this the recognition you were looking for?” the big man joked. “Not exactly. Now stop suppressing your power,” Lancer said. “If you give me some mana, I can end this quickly.” “Give who some mana?” “Me, you imbecile! I can end them all with a single attack!” “Does ‘me’ have a name?” Brock teased, but Lancer still refused to tell him. “Well, no mana for you, stranger. We do this the hard way,” Brock said as he maneuvered around back and grabbed a tire iron from the car’s mangled trunk. “You’ve got to be joking,” Lancer said. “Yeah, I was… this won’t be hard at all.” The snakemen converged upon them. Lancer, who was unarmed, ducked inside the car, narrowly avoiding a razor-sharp scimitar blade. Brock dodged a heavy blow from a spiked mace and stepped aside as an axe swooshed by his face and lodged itself in the car’s metal. He struck the axe-wielding snakeman in the back of its head with the tire iron and the creature’s skull caved in with a sickening ‘splat.’ One down, five to go. Lancer rifled through the glove box, searching for anything he could use to defend himself, but he was out of time. The snakeman with the spiked mace brought his weapon down hard. Lancer rolled to the other side of the vehicle as the huge weapon caved the car’s roof in, right where his head had been. Before the monster could lift for another swing, Lancer ducked back through the car, grabbed the seatbelt, and looped it around the creature’s neck three times. Its forked tongue flicked out as he tried to strangle it to death. There was a flash of sparks as Brock deflected a sword strike. He threw the x-shaped tire iron at the sword-wielding snakeman, but the creature just swatted it aside as if it were nothing. Sacrificing his weapon made just the opening Brock needed; as the snakeman batted away the thrown tire iron, Brock charged in and tackled it to the ground. Two or three heavy punches pummeled the beast into submission and Brock rose, now armed with the creature’s sword. But two more were closing in on Lancer. “Catch!” Brock said and tossed the sword. Lancer sidestepped it. The weapon clattered to the floor and slid under the car. “What the hell, man! You were supposed to catch that!!” “You threw a fucking sword at me!! What kind of person does that!?” Lancer retorted, but there was no time to argue about it. He was unarmed, with three snakemen slowly closing in on him, two armed with scimitars and another with an axe. “I could use some mana about now,” he said, practically begging. “Name.” Brock had him right where he wanted him. “It’s Tesla, dammit! Nikola Tesla! Now, for the love of God, give me some mana!!” “Nope,” Brock said and picked up two metal pipes from a pile of construction supplies. “Catch!” he said as he tossed one to Lancer. This time, the man caught it. "We're gonna fight 'em off the old-fashioned way," Brock said as he joined him.
The steel pipe clattered to the floor with a sound that echoed throughout the silent, half-finished building. Its rusty steel shaft was coated in crimson bits of snakeman brains, blood and gore. The floor of the room was littered with the bodies of the defeated creatures. “Where do you suppose they came from?” Lancer asked, now that things had called down enough to perform a proper investigation. “Caster?” “The kid didn’t mention anything about Caster being a summoner,” Brock replied. “She said Caster threw Rider around, using telekinesis or something.” “Children are chronic liars you know,” Lancer said. “Hey, stop burning bridges,” Brock warned. “First you turn Saber against us, now you’re telling me Karin’s a liar? What next, you’ll say the Church is out to get us, too?” “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy dose of skepticism…” Brock said nothing. He came and stood next to his servant, looking down on one of the dead snakemen. “I just got an idea,” Brock said after a long silence. “Help me get this body in the trunk.” “I am not touching that… thing. Besides, your car doesn’t have a trunk anymore,” he snickered. “If you can even call that heap a ‘car.’” Brock glared at him. “Sounds like someone’s trying to get punched in the face again…” he muttered and Lancer quickly knelt and lifted the creature’s feet. Brock lifted the upper half of its body and they hauled it over to the car. “We’ll take it to the Church in the morning,” Brock explained. “Hiroshi might know something.” “Bollocks. The Church isn’t supposed to interfere in the Grail War,” Lancer replied. “He won’t tell us anything unless…” He finally realized what Brock was saying. “You think someone outside the War sent these creatures? Who? Do you have any enemies I should know about?” Brock nodded. “I can already think of an obvious suspect… but let’s not jump to any conclusions.”
Karin Karin was wrapped up in blankets, a cup of tea held calmly in her hand as she watched the developing news on the TV. It had been three days since she'd last seen Rider, and three days since she'd been out of the house. She told her mother that she was ill, and being a teenager feigned it quite well. The other day a car bomb had gone off in the parking lot by the mall, killing five people, and now a strange disease was overtaking the city - at least one hundred had been hospitalised and were in a paralytic state. Karin knew that somehow all of these events were linked to the Grail War, and that she was absolutely powerless to stop them from happening. She was powerless to even defend herself. Without Rider she was nothing. She knew where he was with the use of her pendant, but she had no idea how to get him to come back, and worst of all, she was constantly worried. ----- Father Hiroshi (Yesterday) Silence. Hiroshi felt the steel of their glares although he couldn't see their faces. The Mage's Association was not known for tolerance, but their allegiance with the church during the Grail War made them more lenient. "It appears we have a problem." "Yes, sir." Hiroshi acknowledged politely. He'd travelled a day to get here, so he knew quite well that there was a problem. "The snake men-" "Snake men?" the low, hollow voice interrupted. "Merely obstacles of the Grail. It's been known to happen when a servant with a summoning ability has been involved in a recent Grail War." "This is true, but the only servant capable of such summoning was Caster in the previous Grail War, and Master Einsbern has informed me that his servant had no such ability." "Master Einsbern is playing you for a fool, father." A gentle voice said from somewhere behind him. "The man wants nothing more to do with the grail now that he's won it. In fact, I don't remember him wanting much to do with it even ten years ago." Hiroshi kept quiet. Maybe Einsbern had actually lied to him. But that didn't make sense. If all it was was an aftermath of Einsbern's servant's presence, then surely the magi would've told him. No, something was amiss here. "Let's get to the real issue, Hiroshi." The man with the hollow voice spoke again. "What is your role as moderator of this war?" Hiroshi was confused. "To ensure the rules are followed by both servant and summoners and to protect innocents from injury." "Exactly. So I'm wondering why the epidemic in Fuyuki hasn't come to your attention when it is directly related to one of the servants." Hiroshi's eyes opened wide in shock. "I - I apologise. I wasn't aware of anything to do with an epidemic - it must be a recent development. I've been travelling. To arrive here." "To discuss snake men?" The man was definitely angry, but he spoke slowly, patiently. "Spare the excuses, Hiroshi. What we know is that Rider is using a noble phantasm that drains the life force of those marked by it. We believe it makes him more powerful." "How many have been affected?" Hiroshi asked. "According to the news, over one hundred." That was a lot of people. How much stronger did Rider want to become? And surely he couldn't drain life force forever - at some point those people would die. "You must act quickly, Hiroshi." The mage instructed. "Have all of the summoners direct their attention to the destruction of Rider and his master." "Not the girl!" Hiroshi protested. "She is an innocent. This must be the servant's doing." "Even so, a master should be able to control her servant." The decision sounded final, and even though Hiroshi wanted to argue further, he was already treading on thin ice. It was his fault this had happened. Then the mage spoke again. "However, if you can convince Rider's master to plead for sanctuary, she may be spared. But you do know that it's much easier to kill the master, Hiroshi." "It will be done."
Xayide Xayide was sipping green tea in the breakfast room and flipping through a news article. She was wearing a bone-white pantsuit (with black trim on the collar and cuffs) that seemed to glow with light; her amethyst ring glinted on her finger, as eerily bright as ever. All the newspaper articles were discussing the strange occurances of last night and the epidemic that had broken out in the city. When she had had enough, Xayide slapped down the paper and began pinning up her hair in a super-tight top bun, leaving only a white streak dangling free by her face. Nico Minoru chanced to walk by in the hall and she halted in the doorway. "Master?", Nico said, scratching the back of her neck. She was still in her all-black bed clothes and her eyes were puffy from sleep. Her hair was scruffy and she wore a bike chain as a neck choker. "Someone--probably one of the othe rmagi--is doing something to the city's population", Xayide anounced, standing up from her chair and smoothing the wrinkles from her suit jacket. "We need to be where the action is if we want to win this thing, and I think the action is wherever that magi, or her servant, may be. You can cast a locator spell, am I correct?" Nico nodded mutely. "Well, get dressed and get to work, Caster. I will follow you to the source and we will deal with it, before it gets out of hand." Xayide took her huge blacked-out sunglasses from an inner pocket and put them over her eyes, ready for business. "Lets go..."
