Fate/Infinite - Game Thread

[TheIronRuler]

KILL?Kill?KILL?Kill?KILL?Kill?KILL?Kill?

The word echoed through Caster's mind to the beat of a heart. Each and every single little critter was clamoring for something to sink their razor-sharp teeth into. They were expecting something succulent and aromatic, with the taste of everlasting agony. Oh, how they begged for human flesh in his mind, those infernal creatures sent up from the fiery pits of hell itself, but Caster had to restrain those infernal beings.

Stand Down, Foul Beasts, for I am your master!

The critters stopped moving and curiously looked around themselves. Some even forgot they were under the protection of a Priest, of all things. With their teeth rattling and their small claws clutching their pitchfork tighter they knew they had to obey the orders of their lord even if they despised his righteous spirit. Not all of them hated Caster, but many of them were his once faithful followers. When some continued to believe, others cursed his soul for bringing their minds back from the darkness where they had peace to rest in.

Caster felt the presence of each and saw what every single one of them had caught in their big blue eyes. He was displeased the masters had dispersed, but all hope was not lost. Caster saw the blood trail leading a route away from the bridge and sent a demon after that lead. Another one was sent to follow Lancer and his white haired master, the one his own disguised as. A third came rushing forward down the river to meet the masters that had their daring escape succeed. The last one was sent to hightail Rider and his roaring machine, so they could see where they are hiding. They all had simple roles ? espionage. Do not engage the targets and keep yourself out of sight. If all else fails, return to the abyss.

The rest remained with no role, to which Caster responded with a snap of his fingers. They all disappeared into a pile of ash, fleeing this plane of existence from the wrath of their lord.

"I sent them away", Caster spoke to Maria. He walked up to her and offered her his bottle.

"Drink up, it's good vodka.", Caster tried to entice her into taking a sip. After a moment of awkward silence he shrugged his shoulders and instead drank what was left of the bottle.

"I sent four of them to the winds. I will see if they found something? What's next?", he asked his master.

Maria removed her shadows and turned away from Caster. She started walking towards their apartment.

"We rest. Today was a waste".

 

[CJ1145]

"What have you learned, Lord Dirk?"

When Saber returned, he found his Master at the head of one of the beds, hunched over the laptop. Bandages and gauze were visible under the loose shirt he'd switched into, covering his wounds and staving off infection. He acknowledged his Servant's return with a nod, and turning the laptop screen to face him. On the screen was a silver eagle.

"The name of our enemy." he declared.

He thought back to the bridge. "The Einzbern was as plain as day. But that other one, the foreigner. I had no idea who he was. But he made a mistake, wearing that thing around his neck. I tracked it down. It's the symbol of the Marks family."

Dirk reached into the cooler, which had been placed beside his bed, and grabbed a bottle of water. He tossed it Saber's way before retrieving another and knocking back a few gulps. He was then back on his tangent like he'd never gotten off.

"The Marks haven't been a part of the Wars for generations." Dirk mentioned. "They failed the Association in a big way, and exiled themselves as a sort of punishment--to prepare themselves, make sure they wouldn't do anything of the sort again."

He patted a book by his side--one of the ones Saber had retrieved from the library. It wasn't anything mass-produced, but a personal copy of some anonymous magus' work. A deep look into the histories of the various families to take part in the Holy Grail War. If Dirk were one to smile, his grin would have been quite smug. Instead, he only looked bored.

"The Marks have a consistent and remarkably powerful affinity for elemental magecraft, which would explain our new friend's powerful flames."

Dirk flexed the palm of his hand, the gloves removed, and with his eyes traced the lines of it. "I have no direct counter to elemental magecraft. We'll need to be clever if we want to beat him. Oh, and I made one other piece of headway. If I tracked the right Marks family, then I believe the man's name is Clay. He's British."

He gently closed the laptop and set it aside. "I'd suggest we both rest. We'll be spending tomorrow in the town while I think of a new strategy."

Dirk's face soured for just a moment. "...Today's strategy was not effective."

Though it wasn't much of an apology, and only barely an admission of guilt, it was likely as much as the knight would get from Orihara that night.

[hr]

"Hm-hmmm-hm-hmm-hmm-hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm hmmm-hmmm-HMMM-hmmm-hmmmm~"

Sanosuke Orihara sat at his desk, quietly reading a copy of the daily paper. With no TV, he found other ways to bide his time. Outside, he heard something odd: nothing. A complete lack of playing children in the distance, or gossiping couples as they passed by on the street. The ambiance was simply dead tonight. It put him on edge, considering the world of strangeness his nephew had dragged in not half an hour ago.

His ears pricked up as he heard something new. A snorting, snuffling noise, and the shifting of something on the move. Something very, very wrong.

"What the hell?"

Snuff-snrf, snrf

On the far side of the Orihara Motel, Caster's imp carefully flattened itself against the wall. Strangers were nowhere to be seen on this night, but that was no reason to flaunt itself about. It had a mission, nearly completed now. The target its master had given it was right on the other side of this wall, and as it pressed its ear up against the brick, the little creature could make out bits of conversation.

"...The name of our enemy...Marks...consistent and remarkably powerful affinity for elemental magecraft...powerful flames...

The little creature rubbed its grubby hands together, soaking up the delicious information. Its master would be pleased to learn of this, to be sure.

"YO!"

The creature was bowled over as a flying monkey wrench caught the back of its head, flipping it over to the ground with an aching sore. As it regained its balance, the flare of an engine buzzed in the night, and it discovered a new figure had joined him behind the motel, with a fire in its eyes.

Sanosuke Orihara stood in his path, mounted atop a Suzuki GSX-R, midnight blue, a nodachi resting on his shoulders. His bare torso was coated in a hundred tattoos and scars. A long life in a dangerous business leaves a man who does not like to be trifled with.


Sanosuke's lips flexed into an ugly frown, and he furrowed his brow as he stared the disgusting little creature down from beneath the brim of his hat.

"The hell... do you think you're doing on my property?"

Orihara hefted the blade, and slammed the engine to max, charging the creature with hate in his eyes.

 

[TheIronRuler]

The little demon found the whereabouts of Saber and his master. He got close enough to hear the two speak with each other, but unfortunately for him he couldn't hear much through the wall. The little that he heard seemed to be enough for now, but he couldn't return empty handed like that? he had to fill his belly first.

"...The name of our enemy...Marks...consistent and remarkably powerful affinity for elemental magecraft...powerful flames..."

The demon transferred all of the information over to Caster who ordered him to stay put and stay hidden. The monkey wrench thrown at the back of his head proved to already disrupt that plan.

"The hell... do you think you're doing on my property?"

The little demon looked behind his shoulder and saw what challenged him. It was a mortal sitting atop a mechanized horse holding a sword. He opened his mouth and exposed his razor-sharp teeth, all of his three rows, followed by a high-toned screech. He moved his legs to a battle stance and held his pitchfork firmly in his hands. His tail started swinging from side to side, the sharp blade at its edge waiting to draw blood.


Small flames erupted through the demon's red skin as they began to slowly envelop him. His blue eyes switched color in a matter of seconds, twisting it into dark red. His horse legs propelled him forward in a massive burst of speed. Instead of running straight towards the bike, the demon ran to his left and jumped at the wall of the shop the man owned, pushing himself forward into the air. It then watched closely as the rider continued its drive forward while the demon dived down with his pitchfork first.

"DIE!!!", it screamed as the demon jabbed the pitchfork forward, only hitting what was behind the man's seat. With his weapon jammed into the bike but with the bike still rushing forward at full speed, the demons' body went back as it tried to hold onto its weapon. The disturbed rider kept his cool and turned his body around so he could strike the demon down with his sword, but a whip from the demon's tail cut the top of the sword off.

"KILL", it screeched as the bike turned hard left and it was nearly thrown off the damn thing. With the demon leaning to the other side, the bike couldn't complete the turn safely and it crashed on its side. The man was trapped underneath the weight of the bike when the demon, already recovered from his fall ran towards the downed piece of flesh with his teeth out in the open.

Just one bite at the neck, just one, and it would all be over.

 

[CJ1145]

Just one bite...


"GRAH!"

Sanosuke slammed his forehead straight into the imp's little face. The crack of cartilage could be heard as its nose caved into its skull, and it leaned back shrieking in pain. The Orihara man's eyed focused to little black pinpricks as he roared, both hands beneath his bike pushing up with all of his might. The vehicle was flipped over, and tossed the demon to the dirt unceremoniously. By the time it stood, Uncle Sano was already above it, his nodachi retrieved and a very disturbing look on his face.

"Any idea what you just cost me in yen, little freak?"

The little chattering creature had no way to properly communicate a rebuttal than the word "KILL," which it shrieked quite angrily. It yanked its pitchfork from the bike at its side and lashed out, only to watch it slip between Sano's arm and his torso. Once the points were past, he slammed his arm to his side and twisted to the left. The pitchfork came wrenching from the demon's hands as was released, spinning off a dozen feet behind them. Orihara's smile was nothing short of malicious.

The imp, now furious, lashed out with its tail. Sanosuke ducked, weaved, and slipped to the side, dodging a trio of blows like they were only illusions. As a fourth strike came past him, he spun away from it, coming back to face him with his blade held high. A single downward chop bisected the tail, cutting it away from its body clean. Blood spurted in irregular gushes, but the little creature had no time to scream. Sanosuke grunted as his foot slammed against its body, pinning it up against the wall. Even as it tried to struggle, shrieking in shrill tones, he lined up the final blow with his blade.

"Gonna take days to buff out the scratches on my bike." he noted with vitriol. Making a final grunt, he pressed with the nodachi, aiming to pierce the little beast's chest clean through.

 

[Pappytech]

Somewhere in Miyamachou: Demon vs Sanosuke

The demon hissed in pain and fury as it struggled, sending claws raking along its foe's leg. The long, bloody cuts that it inflicted sent pain lancing up Sanosuke's leg, eliciting an agonized gasp from the man, but were otherwise ineffective; the demon was still pinned to the wall, and it certainly did not care for the malice that burned in its captor's eyes.

"Gonna take days to buff out the scratches on my bike."

The hell-spawn barely heard the growled words; its attention was instead focused on the blade that was about to end its life. As Sanosuke plunged his broken nodachi forward, the imp responded by lashing out with one its hands, smacking the blade aside and grasping it in between its claws. The man responded by yanking the sword back, taking a few of the demon's claws off.

Howling out and half-mad with pain, the creature struck out with its other hand, drawing a quartet of thin, red lines across Sanosuke's face, sending the man staggering back as he reflexively clutched at his head.

The two combatants took a second to nurse their wounds: the demon mourning the loss of its claws, Sanosuke blinking furiously as blood dripped into his eyes. Then, both driven by rage and adrenaline, they charged back into the fray, letting out cries of fury as they swung forward with their respective weapons. Nodachi slammed against claws as the two collided, both more than ready to send their enemy into the next world.

The demon roared out as the blade carved a line across its face, ripping through one of its eyes and sending blood spurting everywhere. Sanosuke's grin nearly split his face in half, as he raised his sword for the final blow-

SKKKT

-only to look down in shock and surprise, not quite comprehending the sight of the imp's claws burying into his chest. Wasn't... Wasn't that where his liver was supposed to be?

The nodachi clattered the ground, falling from limp fingers as Sanosuke collapsed backwards, staring numbly at the blood that poured forth from the hole in his gut. He had yet to register the pain, but he already knew that this was bad. Really bad.

Their positions reversed, the imp allowed itself a bloodthirsty sneer as it placed a foot onto its foe's chest, pushing the man into the ground. Spreading its mouth wide, the monstrosity prepared to bite into Sanosuke's jugular, already savoring the taste of human flesh...

When Saber's broadsword suddenly swung through the air, neatly cleaving the demon in two.

As its body slowly dissolved into ash, the imp glowered at the Servant, and the Master who stood behind him. Damned reinforcements; if they hadn't shown up... Before its consciousness faded away, the hell-spawn sent one last message to its summoner, informing Caster of its final location. Then it was gone, little more than dust on the wind.

Spoiler: OOC @ Glasgow

Yeah, considering that everybody was trying to do something different at the same time, I kind of had to overwrite a few people's actions to try and make some semblance of sense. I did my best to make everyone happy, but I'm sorry if I messed with your plans.

 

[CJ1145]

"Uncle."

Dirk moved to Sanosuke's side, trying to help him up. The commotion had been impossible to miss. But he was rebuffed, the elder shoving him away as he tried to help him up.

"I don't need your damned help." Sano growled, piercing eyes honing in on his nephew. He pointed an accusatory finger and added, "It's your friggin' war that brought this thing here. Jeez..."

His hand covered his torso, trying to stymie the ever-flowing blood. His eyes honed in on the ashes of the creature that had maimed him, and stamped on them with his foot. He shook his head, grumbling "It just ain't got the same satisfaction."

Sanosuke struggled to his feet, and stumbled. Dirk caught him, only to be shoved away again. "Get outta my sight, you runt. You've done enough."

"You're bleeding out." Dirk informed him. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"Ain't going to no hospital." his uncle countered as he neared the front door. They walked into the main lobby, Saber following close behind.

"Then you'll die."

"Well, I guess your proved your point to me." Sano admitted. "Maybe you are too weak to protect anybody."

Dirk silently stared at his uncle as he clambered back to his seat behind the front desk. The silence that carried on was long and tense, until the elder Orihara chuckled grimly.

"You didn't screw up so bad, kid. I'm not dying. Not tonight, anyway."

He pulled open a drawer at his seat, and retrieved a first aid kit. He began to treat the wound, preparing to patch it up as best as he could. "Ruined my favorite tattoo..."

He glared at his nephew, shooing him away with a nod. "What're ya looking at? Go get rest while you can. Whoever sent that knows where you are now, so I'd make use of the time left to prepare. Of course, who am I to talk down to the resident prodigy?"

Dirk didn't comment on the jab, preferring to leave as was suggested. He made a beeline back for his room and prepared for sleep. He definitely needed rest. His only command to Saber was to do as he saw fit.

"And don't be surprised if we're interrupted again, tonight."

 

[Ruedyn]

"The base is off the shore, it's pretty noticeable."
Assassin glanced around, and saw what he thought Mordecai was referring to.
"Then I'm off." and with that, he sped off into the night, towards the lit up carrier.
"AND NO... Killing..." Mordecai sighed, Assassin was already out of earshot. Mordecai decided to sit on the curb, he was tired from running. The healing went smoothly, and Assassins prana was all but restored. Not that it mattered, fighting wouldn't happen again tonight. At least they wouldn't.


Assassin sprinted through the streets deftly, unseen by the mundanes that littered the city. He knew the bridge was gone, it had to be. The only question was how many were on their side now, and how long until they figure out about the walkways, as most probably weren't natives. He came to the docks now, he could faintly see the outline of the island Mordecai referred to. He stopped to look around for a boat of some kind, and found he struck gold with a motorboat tied to the wooden docks. He smirked as he cut the rope, and hopped aboard.

The trip over was uneventful, but he made it. He coasted S.S Pepperoni into the cove, a ghost ship to the humans. Most shrugged it off and continued eating, looking at the night sea. Assassin climbed to the land, and strolled around, unworried. He decided to go to the Hospital, it was tall and good for scouting. The nurses were unconcerned when the door opened by itself, though slightly confused. Assassin ignored them and went to the elevator, phasing through the door and hopping onto the maintenance ladder, and began his ascent. It took no time at all to get to the roof, though he had to turn on his powers once more when the elevator came screeching at him, making him lose some progress, but otherwise no grievances.

He stepped out into the fresh, sea air, enjoying himself immensely. First beating a Saber and then a near flawless infiltration? He grinned wolfishly, and looked around. Nothing resembling an armory. He'd found something resembling a bunker, ironically near the high school. He jumped off the hospital invisible, creating a minor shockwave upon landing, knocking a nearby couple over. He didn't stop, he began running the nanosecond he hit the ground, bounding the the streets invisibly. He was a second before plowing into the bunker before he phased through it, and once more he struck gold. Not exactly weapons galore, but there were enough, the ammo was what made his eyes widen. Enough for most on the island. He grabbed as much as he could carry, as well as what his master had requested. A glock 19 for concealed purposes, an M-4 Carbine for night-time purposes, and a Colt Model 1878 as a backup. Now it was time for the journey out.

It was about then Assassin noticed the Armorer staring from the corner as his guns were picked up by a strange robed man. Assassin sighed, and walked over to the startled man. the Armorer stood up quickly, knocking his chair over and aiming his pistol for Assassins mid-section. He went on with his usual spiel, before Assassin bolted for the door, and he let loose 3 bullets, their reports echoing in the room. Assassin nimbly dodged them all and drew his gladius, and charged the man, who was now officially scared for his life. He was about to stab him, before muttering,
"Haunting Guise." and turned invisible and ethereal, phasing through the man and by extension the wall behind him. And once more Brutus found himself running, this time less triumphantly. A part of his brain wanted him to go back and finish the job, but he knew the man'd call himself crazy if he ever mentioned what happened. Brutus made it back to his stolen boat, and drove it back to Shinto quickly, and finding Mordecai even faster.
"Shall we go home?" Brutus asked.

Mordecai smiled, and the two began walking away, back to their room, and back to their food. Mordecai was already carrying the glock in his jeans.

 

[TheIronRuler]

The curious one that was sent after the trail of blood was fortunate enough to see Assassin's master heal him without being spotted. It continued to follow the pair till they reached the docks, where it nervously stood still on command from his master. After the Servant returned with a surprising twist, the little devil followed them back to where they were staying.

A creepy smile spread across Caster's face while the two were sitting in their borrowed apartment. Maria was eating the little vegetables she found to be edible in this city when Caster interrupted her.

"I have a report, my dear?", he spoke elegantly. "One found Saber and his master, but was unfortunately disposed of. Another found the base of operations from which Rider worked, but alas, it was filled with traps. The third? found some interesting occurance.", Caster walked towards the couch and made himself comfortable. He grabbed the phone by his right hand and continued talking to Maria. "You see? Assassin and his master? decided to arm themselves, and as much as I know from Japanese television? possessing firearms is illegal", Caster then dialed the number for the city's police department. They would be mighty interested in finding suspects for what had happened in the city's bridge, and what's better than suspected terrorists?"

 

[HellsingerAngel]

Clay and Rider had made good time making it back to the manor. Though he was certain the boy wasn't terribly pleased with having to ride tandem, Rider's steed was a far better option than simply walking back to the estate. Heck, it was even faster than the sports car they had driven to the battle by leaps and bounds. What had amounted to a twenty minute drive across town was easily covered in one-quarter the time. As the two approached the estate grounds, the horse quickly dispersed into golden flecks of mana, the massive servant landing with the grace of an equestrian master, grabbing Clay by the collar and setting him down before he dashed himself across the lawn from the sudden fall. As would be expected of a Marks, the mage simply dusted himself off as if nothing had been the matter.

"Now, if that mechanical carriage had four-hundred and fifty of my horses inside its hood," Rider scoffed, grinning with fierce pride at his steed's performance, "it would be a machine beyond wonder!"

Clay merely rolled his eyes as he began the walk towards the front door, clearly uninterested in this conversation. Rider grumbled a bit, catching up in stride with his partner. The warrior was unimpressed with the silence he had been given, especially after that jest of a battle they had both partaken in. While the peasant had proven to be an endless supply of quirks and amusement these past couple days, he certainly wasn't much for conversation on the finer things in life.

Just then there was a large explosion and the swish of arrows whizzing through the air. The pair looked back for a moment as a mangy yelp came from the hedges behind them. Rider shook his head in dismay, disappointment on his face.

"Now look what you have done," Rider scolded. "A poor stray cat has been injured because of your carelessness. You should consider looking over those wards you placed."

Clay shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "Maybe I'll get Diana to take a look at it. She could use the practice."

"I think not!" Ride protested. "To let such a fine young woman sully her hands with such menial labour is a sin unto itself. I forbid you from letting your sister demean herself with such tasks. If I even see her so much as-"

And so it continued as the two entered the manor. Meanwhile, where the trap had sprung, there lay a very distraught demon. While the explosion hadn't been too unkind to the hellspawn, only having left it singed, scraped and hobbling on one leg - a mere flesh wound for one that regularly found itself on the wrong end of a greater daemon's ire - the arrows, some tipped with a paralyzing agent and others with an inhumanly poisonous toxin, made the demon a convulsing pin cushion. The sound that emanated from the lackey could only be described as a dying cat being wrung through a clothes wringer, foam frothing around its mouth. The coming hours would be slow and agonizing before it slowly shifted into ash and blew away. These were the days the demon seriously reconsidered his life choices up until that point. Then again, it was still a living...

* * *​

Several hours had past since their encounter at the bridge and Rider had chosen to take the time to unwind. The servant was lying across his bed, his head hanging over the edge and upside down. He had chosen to remove his golden head dress, letting his long black hair spill onto the floor beneath. In his hands was the controller to the most recent addition to the room: a brand new UPlayBox. While infuriating peasants over the internet had proven entertaining, there were far too many trying to accomplish the same goal for it to be anywhere near a surprise when his carefully crafted insults were sprung upon his foes; that, and they were all twelve year-old children.

These video games, however, had proven to be a much greater challenge for his tactically advance mind. Their multiple layers of strategy and almost impossibly complicated rule sets and mechanics had made something so mundane like Goh seem trivial at best. So, with the assistance of his blond maid friend - who he had learned was named Alberta - he had hooked up the gaming console to his television and began a great conquest within the digital world of Admirable Grand Strategy: Conquest, sequel to the best-selling, triple platinum, game of the decade Admirable Grand Strategy! ...Or so the box had proclaimed. Rider was inclined to believe the advertisements with how enthralling the entire experience had been. Alberta, too, had found spectating just as captivating and was leaning against a dresser, eyes fixated on the television screen.

"War certainly looks quite different since your time," Clay remarked, entering the room in his ever calm manner. "Though for all its cosmetic differences, its soul has never changed."

Alberta quickly snapped out of her trance, thoroughly embarrassed at her behaviour. "Master Clay, I am deeply sorry for my behaviour. I assure you, I was just-"

Clay raised a hand to cut her off before she could finish, lazily waving the excuses away. While he certainly wasn't fond of his staff slacking off he wasn't against Rider having an attendant keeping him out of trouble either. The brute had already proven he was a pain to keep under control and had the attention span of a gnat when it came to exploring the modernization of humanity. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to permanently assign Alberta to keep his servant busy during their down time.

"I assume this means you received my summons?" Rider asked, his eyes not leaving the screen in fear of making some horrible mistake.

"Yes, Rider," Clay answered plainly, a slight twinge of annoyance in his voice. "Now, could you stop what you're doing, pay attention for five seconds and tell me why I'm here?"

At that very moment Rider's brow creased in frustration as his digital self died in a splendid display of air juggling and overly cinematic weapon flourishes. His head turned to face Clay, still remaining hanging over the edge of the bed.

"Tch, fine. It is not as if I had more important matter to attend to, such as taking over the world!" The sour expression on Rider's face persisted as he straightened himself up to a sitting position on the bed to at least appease Clay in taking things seriously. "I overheard Saber's master speaking with one of the guardian spirits he had summoned as his Phantasm.

Clay raised an eyebrow at this. Rider had actually done something useful that wasn't bashing a man's face in. He could hardly believe his ears. Yet here he was, witnessing the miracle that was Rider gathering information. Clay chanced a look up to make sure the sky wasn't falling before looking back at his servant. "And...?"

"Apparently he is an uncle," Rider continued, shrugging helplessly at his utter disregard for the importance of the information, "and the guardian he had summoned was named Sir Lancemore or Sir Stabsalot or Lady Insignificant-ant-that-Rider-shall-crush-beneath-his-heel, or some such nonsensical name." Rider gave a bit of a wicked grin at the last name, truly relishing in the moment he had taken the spirit's temporary life. "In any case, it would seem as though Saber has family. Either Mr. Spearsabunch is his nephew or he would have to be his brother, making one of the other two knights his niece or nephew."

'Does he mean Lancelot Du Lac?' Clay pondered on this possibility for a moment as Rider went back to playing his video game. 'If what Rider said is true, then that Phantasm would make him a Knight of the Round Table. That narrows it down to at most twenty-five candidates. By using Lancelot's genealogy I should be able to narrow it down even further.' The thought of finally having a leg up on one of the servants he had anticipated would be trouble was a God send. If he could figure out the identity of Saber it would vastly improve their chances in defeating him and it would be one less team to worry about and that much more focus could be put on his true adversary. 'Einzburn...'

"Curse you Arthur!" Rider bellowed, throwing his controller to the ground.

The sudden outburst had startled even Clay as both he and Alberta jumped a little. Clay then turned his attention to his servant who was fuming over another defeat at the hands of the eternal Arthur Pendragon. He was uncertain of what exactly the game was but with the mention of Arthur...

"This stupid king is such a coward! He will not face me in an honourable duel and keeps sending these pathetic knights to distract me before striking a killing blow. A true warrior need not rely on cowering behind others. Were this accurate by any means I would have easily defeated them with a single blow from my great halberd. Come at me Arthur of England and fight me like the man you ought to be!" Rider then glared over at Clay who had been watching Rider's outburst at the television. "Why are you still standing there, peasant!? Unless you wish to join me, our conversation is finished and you may resume whatever petty tasks you choose to pursue."

The great warrior ended by shooed him off, expecting the boy to decline. After all, if there was one thing Rider had learned, it was that Clay despised getting to know anyone around him save for his sisters. He'd rather have his nose in a book than carry a conversation.

 

[Pappytech]

23:50: Fuyuki City Police Department

"Uh-huh... Yes ma'am, I understand, but we're already... I'm sure that your cat is very important to you, but in case you haven't heard there's been a bomb... Ma'am, I'd like to help, but we're stretched thin as it is and I don't think... Look, we can send someone by in the morning, but that's all... Yes, I'm sure that we can't do anything else... I really don't care for your language ma'am... Uh-huh... Well, a 'good' night to you too!"

Officer Sagara sighed as he hung up the phone, pinching his nose between a couple of fingers. The hotline had turned into an absolute nightmare over the past few hours, with hundreds of calls coming in from concerned and frightened citizens. The destruction of the bridge had the entire city in a panic, and thus far no one had been able to figure out exactly what happened. Which, of course, meant that everyone and their brother had to call in to try and find out what the hell was going on. Not to mention the crazies who seemed intent on wasting valuable phone lines, like the rather... verbose woman who had just called in. Honestly, did she really think that the police would have time to search for missing cats on a night like tonight?

Thankfully, that had been the last caller on hold, at least for now. The cop allowed a wave of relief to wash over him as he reclined back in his seat, basking in the blessed silence of his headset. It was about time he got a break; any more phone calls, and he'd probably just go right ahead and snap.

Spinning around in his chair, Sagara stared bleakly at the wall-mounted television, tuned into the local news station 24/7. As one would expect, the area around Fuyuki Bridge was packed full of cameras, reporters, emergency service workers, and curious onlookers, all of them trying to figure out what was going on. Terrorism? Poor building codes? The wrath of a vengeful sea god? A sign of the Mayan apocalypse? Theories abounded, most of them entirely unsupported by any shred of evidence. Bizarrely, it was these that seemed to have the most followers; more than a few members of the older generation seemed to be claiming this incident was related to one that occurred more than 20 years ago, when that strange fog fell over the bay...

Shaking his head, the officer tried to banish the memory from his head. That incident had been explained as a very rare, but still natural, phenomenon; something to do with a reaction produced by a certain type of algae when it was exposed to high temperatures and an abundance of moonlight. He couldn't remember the exact science behind it, but he was sure that it was something along those lines.

Certainly it didn't have anything to do with the bridge collapsing. ...Well, unless the crazies were right after all, and magic rituals were to bla-

Brrrrrrrring

"Oh, you can just go to hell!"

Groaning in protest, Sagara reluctantly redirected his attention to the switchboard in front of him; sure enough, the call-waiting light was flashing. Wincing, he leaned forward and pressed the button beneath the light, wearily repeating his customary greeting. "Fuyuki City PD, what is your emergency?"

The officer sat still for a few seconds, listening to the caller. Then, gripping his headset closer to his ear, he shot upright, panic flaring in his eyes and voice. "What?! Terrorists? And you're sure?"

Frantically scrambling for a pen and notepad, Sagara hastily scribbled down a few nearly illegible lines. "Wait, wait, slow down. What was that hotel again? ...And the room number? ...Alright, floor? ...Third? Got it."

Dropping the pen, the cop scanned his notes, double-checking their accuracy. "Okay, thanks for the tip. Now, if I could just get your name and address... Hello? Sir?"

A dial tone was his only answer.

Sighing, the man slumped back into his chair, staring intently at the information he had written down. On the one hand, they'd already had more than a handful of crank calls tonight, all about terrorists or aliens or magicians and their plots to destroy the entire city. There was a good chance that this tip would lead to nothing but a dead end and a waste of man hours. But on the other, it could very well be the real deal this time around; it would be beyond negligent to not check into it.

And besides, it was as good excuse as any to get out of the office for a few minutes...

[hr]

00:15: Outside Assassin and Mordecai's Hotel

Officer Sagara scanned the parking lot for a third time, searching for any conspicuous vehicles or evidence of terroristy things. As expected, his search turned up nothing; besides a few sedans and minivans, the lot was practically empty. There wasn't anything to indicate that a mad bomber might be holed up here, or that anything was out of the ordinary. As far as he could tell, this wasn't anything more than your standard, slightly sleazy hotel.

Grumbling about ill-mannered punks, the officer walked into the lobby, conferring with the attendant working the front desk to get a list of all the guests staying on the third floor. He just had to check them out, and then he could head back, maybe pick up some coffee and a donut on the way.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that there was only one occupied room on the third floor. Well, at least it wouldn't take him long.

It didn't take Sagara long to climb the stairs or find the room in question. From there, it was a simple matter of knocking on the door. "Hello? Fuyuki Police; can you open up?"

 

[CJ1145]

Breep-breep. Breep-breep.

Five hours of sleep. Two more to wake, and then back to bed for the rest of the night. That would be Dirk's schedule. Whether he could stick to it had yet to be seen, but he'd already determined that he wouldn't fail it his first night. Orihara rolled from his bed, resisting the urge to scratch his wounds, and switched off the alarm on his smart phone. He hefted the little wonder in his hand, contemplating its value. After deliberation, he decided that hand-written notes were still superior, and plugged it back in to charge.

There were no chairs in this meager room, so Dirk opted to take the floor. Resting in the space between beds, he flopped down and pulled several books out of his bag, laying them out in front of him. Manuals on magecraft of every sort, and a font of knowledge gained over the centuries on the intricacy of their art. He already knew what he was looking for. He just wasn't sure what it would look like.

His mind was still back under Fuyuki Bridge. Assassin, the Servant that had struck at them, had successfully incapacitated Saber in a single blow. The only thing that had saved him was the weaponry he had created. Gradation Air magecraft. But the things he'd made were fragile, and barely sharp. A single blow shattered them. That wouldn't do.

A weapon to scratch them is worthless to me. As is one that costs so much prana for so little return. I need something better.

He flexed his hand and imagined the weapon he might grip in it. I need a perfect copy.

The scene in his mind sped up, until a wall of flames blocked their path. Dirk's imagination took over, as it tried to visualize a way through the flames. Magecraft to produce armor? A gust of wind? Perhaps some form of Bounded Field?

I need a way to negate his magecraft before I face Marks again.

He was already getting an idea. As it happened, it tied into his previous dilemma.

Dirk scanned one book. And then another. He scoured the pages, seeking any knowledge that he could grasp. But none of it spoke to him, none of it applied. Bounded Fields so useless he questioned their very conception, ramblings of long-dead magi who had no clue what they were talking about. Forty minutes passed, to the dot, before Dirk finally reacted.

He yelled in frustration and threw his book against a wall. He leaned forward and placed his elbow between his crossed legs, allowing his arm to prop up his head, which felt bloated and nauseous.

"It doesn't make sense." he whispered. "No one has tried to improve Projection magecraft? It's like these idiots think it below them..."

He splayed his fingers across one another, bridging his hands together and resting his chin on them. A few deep breaths calmed his nerves, and he took a sip of chilled water.

"Very well, then."

He took his laptop down from the bed and flipped it open. He'd be doing more research than he'd thought. "If there is no way to do it, then I'll make one myself."

 

[Ruedyn]

Mordecai applied bandages to Assassin where needed while he polished off the other pizza. Mordecai sighed at the servants gluttony, but knew he couldn't do anything to interrupt it. He never frigging could. When he finished, the pizza was gone and Assassin lay watching some game show that frightened Mordecai more than the prospect of fighting a man who could shoot fire out of his hands. He wanted to take a shower, and got up to do so before he heard knocking.
"Hello? Fuyuki Police; can you open up?"
Mordecai motioned to Assassin, who was looking at the guns.
"Haunting Guise." He and the guns disappeared, and moved to the darkest corner in the room. Mordecai went to the door instead, and opened it up widely.
"Yes, officer?" Mordecai smiled weakly. He didn't like cops, but he could lie to them. Rather well, too, that was the only reason his mom even gave half a shit about him. He was snapped out of his revelry by the cop going on with his usual spiel.

 

[Pappytech]

"Yes, officer?"

Officer Sagara liked to think that he was a good, upstanding citizen. He liked to believe that he was a fair, just man, who didn't judge based on appearances or nationality.

But the fact that the door was answered by a suspicious looking, Irish gentleman really wasn't helping to calm the cop's nerves.

"Er... Mr. Yeshua? Sorry to bother you this late, sir, but we received a call about some... suspicious activity in the area. I'm sure that it's nothing, but I need to examine your room. It won't take more than a minute."

Without further ado, the officer shoved his way into the hotel room. He may not have had a warrant, or any form of written approval for that matter, but his police-sense was tingling. There was something wrong in this room, he just knew it.

Nope, nothing wrong with the minibar. Nothing weird under the beds. The TV was off, and certainly wasn't hooked up to illicit terrorist networks. No sign of trouble in the bathroom. In fact, besides that trio of guns that were just randomly floating in the corner, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Just your run-of-the-mill two-star hotel room.

...Wait a minute.

Turning around, Sagara stared blankly at the small armory that hovered in midair. His jaw opened and closed a few times, before finally managing to expel a few words. "Are... are those guns floating?"

Well. This would certainly make for an interesting story to share around the water-cooler.

 

[Ruedyn]

Mordecai tried to remind him of the law, but his Japanese was terrible, and the man didn't seem to pay attention anyways. He saw Brutus in the corner with the guns... Not invisible.
'Um...'
"What the fuck?" Mordecai asked himself in English. He only thought of what the people in the naval base saw Guns running down the street of their own accord. He barely even noticed himself bring his scalpel out of his pocket. He didn't even notice himself bringing the blade up to the back of his neck where the spinal cord meets the base of the skull. [NEVERMIND]

 

[CJ1145]

"No."

A pencil drew a thick gray streak across a notebook, scratching away a theory. Dirk scratched the top of his skull once, and sighed. He'd reached near to the end of his third piece of paper, with naught to show yet. Still sitting between beds, the minutes ticking by, he'd jotted down every idea that had come to him. And one by one, these thoughts had been tossed away. None of it made sense as he gave it deeper thought. Or if it did, some other problem reared his head.

The last one irked him the most. He felt that he'd almost been there. Reinforcement combined with Gradation Air. He could give his weapons the strength that they had lacked before. And from there, he could only improve...

It doesn't work.

There was simply no way to make such a creation last. Even if its strength was reinforced to its maximum, it would still last no more than a minute. And the drain that constant reinforcement would place upon his prana wasn't worth the, ultimately, minimal increase.

His vision blurred. Sleep was calling him again. He looked at the clock to find it nearly two in the morning. Where had the time gone? If he was to maintain schedule, he had to finish here soon. But the thought still tickled his mind. He felt so close, as if the answer were just beyond his grasp. He leaned forward a bit, breathing deeply as he massaged his face with his hands.

Maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. Hell, maybe I should throw this out altogether. Gradation Air is considered a useless magecraft. Perhaps this is fair.

It clicked. He lowered his hands and stared at his palms, slowly flexing them as a moment of clarity fell on him.

It IS useless. So maybe... I can make something new entirely!

That was it, it had to be. He ripped away the latest bit of scrap and started on a new page. He furiously scribbled every idea that came to him. Gradation Air, the simplest form of his Projection magecraft, centered on the principle of taking an object's image and recreating it. But Dirk was beginning to hypothesize, that wasn't enough. He needed to go beyond that if he wanted to create something effective. An object's image was only the smallest piece of its puzzle. There was so much more to consider. Its history, the techniques woven into its forging, its ingredients and components. All the experience it has had through its existence, even the very concept of its purpose. All must be considered to truly know a weapon, and to truly create it.

Even as his vision began to blur away, Dirk smiled down at his simple process. This was the trick, it had to be. A strong, lasting creation. He only needed the aria. Something to trigger the process. He began to whisper a word, but did so too late. Slumber overtook him, and he slowly slid down and onto his back, spending the night on the carpet. His night was spent in a vivid dream, where he continually held out his hand, shouting words he could not hear.

 

[Redryhno]

Saber watched through the night in the room, never once feeling the urge to sleep, though his mind told him he should be, and would be were he not what he was now. Lord Dirk had spent a good part of it figuring out how to improve upon his magic, to little avail as far as he could see.

After Dirk had fallen asleep on the floor, Saber picked him up and tucked him into bed, being careful not to wake him. He then took the pieces of paper thrown around the room and arranged them into a somewhat organized jumble. The ones not crumpled he put into one of the books, which he put into one of the bags. Should they be attacked in the night, Dirk would need these bags, and Saber would be the one to guard his escape. That hellspawn earlier was a problem, though not completely unexpected, many men turned from God to seek power through the Prince of Lies and his minions, he just never understood why they did so.

Running what he had seen before slicing it in twain in his mind's eye, he began marking off who it could have belonged to. Assassin was out, the man would've followed them himself, though it could be a part of Caster's repetoire, in which case Saber was even more obliged to kill him, lest he set loose his heretical ways on the world.He was the most likely candidate Saber could think of. Possibly a Phantasm of Rider's? Or even Lancer, he supposed. Though he'd been wounded and had noticed little, the way the man stood and appeared chilled Saber. Though Archer or Berserker had yet to reveal themselves to the rest. It was going to be a long few nights.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti,"He whispered to himself as he looked out the window and craned his neck up to gaze at the moon,"Ubi es Arthurius sive deum?"

 

[Pappytech]

"What the fuck?"

It took Mordecai's muttered curse to remind Officer Sagara that he wasn't alone in the hotel room. Spinning around, the cop barely saw the flash of steel as the doctor lunged at him, something small and sharp clutched in his hand.

Time seemed to slow down for Sagara. His heart thundered in his ears, each beat loud as a gunshot, as his mind raced to understand the scope of his situation.

Fact: I am about to be stabbed, most likely in my neck.
Fact: Wound would be devastating; odds are I will not survive.
Fact: Dodging at this time is unlikely.
Action: Block and incapacitate the attacker.

Fact: Behind me, a Glock, M-4 Carbine, and Colt Model 1878 are hovering in midair.
Fact: The odds of this being a joke are virtually zero. Assume that guns are real.
Assumption: It does not seem likely that the guns would be suspended by invisible wire or other tricks. Assume ghosts or magic.
Action: Treat them as an active threat.

Fact: Suspect must be detained.
Action: Take him hostage.

Time began to move at a more reasonable pace. And Sagara moved.

As Mordecai lashed out with his scalpel, the officer responded by swinging up his left hand, slamming its heel into his attacker's wrist. There was a sharp crack as the blow was knocked aside, and a bolt of pain lanced up Mordecai's arm, his weapon dropping from in between numbed fingers.

Simultaneously, Sagara struck out with his foot, slamming it into the back of the Irishman's knee. Spinning around behind his downed foe, the cop flashed out with his right hand, removing his sidearm from its holster in one fluid, practiced motion. An audible click and clack sounded out in quick succession as the safety was flicked off and the pistol was cocked.

Mordecai felt a cold chunk of steel pressing against the back of his neck as he was roughly hauled upright, his left arm painfully wrenched behind his back. "On your feet," Sagara hissed into his ear, his voice cold and authoritative. "You are under arrest on charges of suspected terrorism, possession of illegal firearms, and assaulting an officer of the law."

In a louder tone, the cop addressed the rest of the room, his eyes locked on the trio of weapons in the corner. "Whoever's out there, surrender now! Drop the guns and come out with your hands up!" Slowly, Sagara began backing out of the hotel room, dragging Mordecai along with him.

 

[Ruedyn]

"You know, in my head, I saw this going MUCH better for me." Mordecai said. He figured this kind of thing would leave his life when he quit the IRA, moreso when he became a doctor. First time it happens, EASILY the worst time it could've. He was brought out of this trance by being hauled up.
"And the chances of forgiveness are VERY low I assume? Financial situations all good in the life of this stalwart police officer? Damn." He thought for a moment. Brutus hadn't moved yet, he stood stock. Mordecai had a pistol, and was being held by a man who was barely paying attention. Mordecai used his bobby pin he kept in his back pocket, and got out of the handcuffs, quietly. He proceeded to pull out his pistol, holding onto the barrel.
"I surrender, here's my gun." Brutus phased through the wall while the Officer was distracted, with the guns. The guns didn't go through...
Why would they
Mordecai shook his head in shame. His plans to kill the officer had become plans to use him, however.
"Look, trying to slice you up may have made me look evil, but in my defense you pushed passed me without a warrant. Anyways, I have information on the bridge bombing, it wasn't me, but I think I know who did it..."

 

[drmigit2]

Assassin was curious as to what his master was trying. Perhaps the floating gun diversion would have worked against someone without training, but this was just a dumb idea. Options raced through his head, quite a few were simply stabbing the officer and being done with it, but this was a special case. Assassin hated killing civilians, there wasn't any reason to and they were innocent as far as he was concerned. An idea popped in the figure's head, mortals had a penchant for being superstitious, perhaps scaring the human would be the best option. The robed man allowed the guns to drop to the floor and allowed his voice to echo through the room.

"Put the gun down and we can talk. You don't stand a chance against me, you might not know who I am, but know human, that I am more powerful than you can possibly imagine. I am not a terrorist, but I know who you are looking for. If you do not comply, you will be destroyed.

Sagara winced as the voice echoed around the room, clenching his trigger finger. What the hell was going on?! This was crazy; how was he supposed to deal with some kind of magical demon thing?!

"I am not dropping my gun," he tersely replied, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement. "Not while I've got a terrorist here. Where the hell are you? Show yourself!"

Assassin walked up behind Sagara, ready to grab his hands if he tried to shoot his master. He was hoping more blood wouldn't be shed needlessly this day, but as the officer talked, it seemed unlikely his wish would be fufilled. Still, diplomacy wasn't dead yet.

"If you do not drop your gun, you will die. If you drop it, you will live and gain more information regarding the real terrorists. I don't like killing humans, if I did we would not be talking right now. Drop the gun."

Spinning himself and his hostage around, Sagara looked fanatically for the voice's new location. Somewhere behind him, but where?!

"...Don't like killing humans, eh? Tch."

His mind racing, the officer tried to figure out the best course of action. He was dealing with a force with unknown capabilities; there was no data, nothing to go on. Anything he did would be a guess.

"Dammit to hell! Fine," he spat, shoving Mordecai forward and backing up, lowering his gun by a few degrees. "There, I let him go. Now show me where you are!"

A sigh of relief was released by the robed servant. The human was reasonable after all it seemed, which was rare in these times. Assassin tried to think of the best way to show himself and said gently, "I will, but stay calm okay?"

The hooded figure made his steps apparent now and talked while he made them. "I am walking in front of you now, slowly and without harmful intent. All I want is to talk."

Once he was directly in front of the officer, he deactivated his guise and revealed himself. His face was obscuredi in darkness, his hands a crimson red. His tunic was torn from the fight with Saber and that master. "Who told you to come here?"

"Gah!"

Sagara was unable to hold back a surprised cry as Assassin appeared before him; reflex took over, and before he knew it the cop was pointing his gun in the Servant's face. "I..."

Biting his lip, Sagara took a second to reevaluate the situation. Either this was magic or incredibly advanced technology, neither of which he could really hope to compete with. At this point, trying to negotiate would probably be his best bet. "...We got a tip from an unidentified party. Older male, judging by his voice. Said that there was a terrorist, one responsible for taking out the bridge, in here."

Assassin seemed undaunted by the gun, shadowy face remaining obscured. If the human did try and fire, the bullet would do him about as much good as an over-sized BB pellet. Either way, the information was useful. Someone had followed Assassin, by the looks of it, a male.

"Interesting. I know the guns don't look great, but the bridge's destruction was not my doing, nor was it the cause of my friend's actions. We will be leaving very soon, it is likely you will never see us again. The ones responsible for this are less peaceful than myself and even if you sent the entire police force, I doubt you would even graze a single one of the three."

Assassin thought for a moment, he had noticed an army of demons approaching along with Rider from the opposite side, perhaps one of them had followed. Would make sense considering he hadn't felt a servant at all. The only one who could summon something like that would have to be a Caster.

"Either way, I thank you for the information. You have told me more than you can imagine. The ball is now in your court however, what is it you intend on doing?"

"I... I don't..."

Sagara's heart and thoughts raced along at a mile a minute, trying desperately to find some way, ANY way, out of this. What the hell was this guy talking about? Who could possibly stand up to the entirety of the police force? What three? Dammit! He didn't know what to do!

"I'm going to... to walk out of here," he began, keeping his eyes locked onto wherever the being's face was supposed to be. "I'm going to go down to my car, and go back to the station. I'm going to tell my superiors exactly what happened and try and tack down these 'three' you mentioned."

Assassin shook his head. "If you do that, you will be getting everyone you care about killed. I know this is important, and I can't tell you much, but here is what I can tell you. There is a large extended battle going on and the ones responsible are most likely going to end up dead from it anyway. They are all as paranoid as my master and what they did to the bridge could be recreated on your men. I know this is a lot to take in, but go home and try to forget about this."

It was a moment before Sagara responded. "...Fine."

Assassin allowed the officer to leave, watching the entire time, half to ensure his master's safety, and half to ensure Sagara's safety. Whatever followed him might still be around and could try to kill the officer.

 

[Ruedyn]

Mordecai coming over his odd case of bloodlust, decided to take a shower. He was glad there was no mess, but they needed to remove the weapons. He couldn't think of a place to put them, other than the other empty rooms. Too risky. Perhaps a new abode was in order, probably a cheaper one than this. They'd look during the day, today was a bust. They're only victories were pyrrhic at best. He sighed, and got out and toweled off. By then Assassin was back.
"Hope we don't get in trouble for that. You know, introducing a man to magic?" Mordecai smiled, he agreed it was better than outright killing the guy, but it could have consequences. Bad ones. From the Mages, the church he didn't give a shit about.