Fate/Infinite - Game Thread

[HellsingerAngel]

Einzburn had left the pair of master and servant to contemplate her words as she stormed out of the restaurant. Maria seemed fairly amused by the entire exchange, Rider less so. The girl's words required little consideration to the warrior, his mind already set when Ilene had dared to threaten Maria. His eyes shifted over to his charge, looking her up and down once before looking down at the table. His eyes fixated on the delicate cup in his hand as his fingers slowly moved to spin the cup. Before he knew it, his grip tightened on the dishware, crushing it easily within his grasp. He could feel the shards dig into his hand, blood trickling into his palm, yet still he ground the ceramics with his hand. By the time he was finished the cup was a fine powder.

"I will end her..." Rider grumbled, letting the powder slowly sift out of his hand as his cuts healed almost instantly from a surge of mana.

Maria looked over at the massive man with a raised eyebrow. She had yet to see the warrior in as foul a mood as now. She couldn't imagine why he was so perturbed by the encounter.

"You needn't get so worked up over a few words, Rider. You should save your ire for-"

"Hello, Maria, Rider. Have you had a chance to enjoy the food, yet?"

Maria cast a wary eye to the man taking a seat opposite her. He was a Master, her Command Seals told her that much. But his motivations were still unclear... seeing as she was only sent to rile Einzbern, Maria saw little reason to antagonize her opposition any further. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting, Mr...?"

"Orihara," he replied coolly. "Dirk, if you're not the formal type."

He held up his finger for a moment as a waitress scurried their way, holding a wooden platter. She placed it down in front of Dirk, mentioning, "I hadn't realized you moved!"

He thanked her, admiring the food he'd been sent. Oshizushi, made of rice, mackerel, and all manner of toppings pressed into a dozen squares. He broke apart a pair of chopsticks and began digging in. "You know," he began with a full mouth, eyes deliberately on the food as opposed to his "guests", "the sushi around here is exquisite. Comes in dozens of varieties. Probably a lot more than you get in England, right?"

"In England, it's typically not wise to eat the food raw. For that matter, don't eat any fish prepared by an English chef." She chuckled at her joke, leaning further into her seat. It seemed not all Masters were incapable of the most basic of manners.

"I've heard as much," the boy replied, flexing his eyebrows to emote. After a few more bites he leaned back, readjusting himself as he took another sip of the piping hot coffee. The Marks girl seemed to be fairly personable. At least, in comparison to the Einzbern. All right, he thought. He could try the friendly route for a while, see how far he could take it.

"Though the shops around here are pretty good about hiring people who wash their hands."

He paused for a beat. "At least, I hope so. There must be some justification for why I'm spending so much money, for so little food."

The air settled in a dodgy silence, Orihara weighing his odds at pursuing a more relevant topic. He pursed his lips for a moment, kicking the idea around before it rolled into a favorable corner of his head.

"So the Einzbern," he said, flat. "I take it you weren't who she was expecting. And, unless the feeling I'm getting is mistaken, I take it your brother did something... drastic."

"Not so much drastic as unconventional. Einzbern only threw a fit because she didn't get what she wanted." Maria took up the cup in front of her, taking a brief sip. "Speaking of, Mr... Orihara, was it? I'm curious to know what you want."

"Not much," he told her. "I suppose I'm curious too. Curious why you're here."

He stooped a bit to blow some steam from his coffee, taking another sip.

"Dangerous business, a war. Lots of risk, little reward. Dangerous foes, untold expenses. Air fare, lodging, food. Life and limb, own sisters on the line... for what?"

He took a deep breath, and punctuated, "Why take the plunge?"

"Little reward? You do know what's at stake, don't you?" Maria seemed taken aback at his statement. She wasn't sure whether or not he was playing dumb, but it was an odd subject on which to feign ignorance.

"I know exactly what's at stake." Dirk shimmied his shoulders down into a more comfortable arrangement, folding his hands in front of his mouth, letting his fingers rub against the bottom of his nose. "Lives. Six, precisely, to power the Grail. Twelve, if you're feeling ruthless. Potentially more, if not careful. Many... moral quandaries are abound."

He raised an eyebrow, as if innocently questioning her own questions. "All that, to produce one wish. One. I know the stakes. I'm not certain you do."

"Hm." Maria took another sip of her tea, settling into a position to mirror Dirk's. "You knew my name, Mr. Orihara, so I assume you know why the Marks family bothers with this war." She gingerly placed the teacup back on the table, leveling her gaze to meet his. "We know what's at stake, better than anyone. I wouldn't expect you to understand." She shrugged, her expression nonchalant, as though she where describing the weather. "Who would?"

"Who, indeed."

Dirk exhaled, a hint of amusement within. "So you would fight for a benevolent cause... but still fight." Orihara's eyes lit up, scanning every inch of Maria's face, down to its smallest details. It only took a second, before they settled back to meet her own gaze, as if they'd never left. "Foolish. You won't accomplish much, playing the rules that the system wrote. A very dangerous game."

He lowered his hands just enough to reveal a cocky smirk he'd been hiding. "Do you believe you have what it takes?"

"My my, somebody feels confident in their abilities." Maria returned Dirk's cocky attiude with a chuckle, shaking her head in similar amusement. "But confidence only gets you so far. At some point, you need to act." She folded her hands in front of her, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing. "Are you willing to do whatever it takes?"

The boy's grin dissipated, and for a single moment his face was deathly cold. "Absolutely. Without a moment's hesitation, I'd slit your throat right here. All that's stopping me is your companion." He paused to nod Rider's way. He flicked his left wrist, and out of his sleeve popped his pocket knife. He flicked the blade open, twirling the weapon around his hand, placing it into his palm before letting it slide back down the sleeve.

"Though I'll give you, I bet you'd put up a tougher fight than the last girl I sat with."

Rider finally made his move. He had had enough with the attitudes of these commoners playing pretend. His hand shot out in a blur, grabbing Dirk's wrist before another twirl of the blade could be made. The pressure was so precise, crushing the wrist of the boy just before the breaking point of his bones. All the while, Dirk could only see his own face reflected back at him in the sunglasses Rider wore, his face the solemn mask of an aged warrior.

"And what would make a peasant believe he could challenge the Gods themselves?" It wasn't so much a question, but a demand to know. "What could drive him so?"

"A good many things," spoke a smooth voice. A gloved hand rested itself on the Rider's shoulder, and the familiar cold sting of steel was up against his throat. Saber stood behind him in his suit, a peaceful smile on his face even as he pressed a blade to a man, ready to kill him if necessary.

"They might be motivated by hubris. Or boredom. Or rage. Or even hope."

The blade encroached a little further. "All these are valid, dangerous though they may be. Now if you would, release the young Lord. We wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?"

Rider was perfectly still when he felt the cold edge of a blade press against his skin. He could sense a smile tugging at his lips. What did the fool believe he could accomplish? The ancient warrior knew he held the cards in this exchange.

"How rude..." Rider spat, his voice beginning to show a little emotion. "That you believe such a tactic puts you at an advantage. Kill me and I simply disappear. However, it would only take one blow for one such as myself to fell this boy. With him goes you and both of your chances at the prize you seek, while my master remains, ready to claim his right. If I were seeking a confrontation I would have simply ended it when I had the chance. Now stay your blade..." Rider then squeezed just a fraction tighter, feeling the bones in Dirk's wrist beginning to shift, "...and answer my question."

Dirk felt his bones ready to splay. With even a fraction more effort, he'd lose a wrist. Not the end of the world, but certainly not a disadvantage he needed with a fight coming tonight. He glanced Saber's way, the look in his eyes warning him away. Though the Servant released his blade, the look of displeasure was damning.

Orihara focused back on Rider. Even as the pain grew ready to overflow, his face did not twitch. If anything, he felt excited.

"I fight," he began in a dread whisper. "to find the worth of a good battle. A challenge of the body and mind worthy of my time. Commoners have proven unworthy... that leaves you. The gods."

That should satisfy him, but, no need to take chances. I recall your behavior at the bridge. Let's see if you're as bloodthirsty as I think, Servant...

Dirk snorted in amusement. "Besides that. We both know you wouldn't risk killing me. Not yet. If I were to die, Saber would disappear. And what worth, Rider, is a victory in battle, if you took the coward's route to defeat your strongest foe?"

Dirk paused, staring down the man in his opaque shades. "Are you satisfied... Lord?"

"You were lecturing not a breath ago about the importance of... what was it? 'Not playing by the rules it wrote?' I suppose that only applies when your life isn't the one being threatened." Maria's stare hardened, cutting straight through Dirk. There was not an ounce of mercy, kindness, or compassion.

"It seems you aren't as brave as you think, boy."

Dirk's eyes shifted to look Maria's way, disappointment in his eyes. "Hmm. Thought you were one of the smarter ones. What I said is irrelevant, here. If I wanted to redeem my family, impose order on the chaos of magi, or something 'noble' as you'd call it... then yes. I'd be a fool, a coward, and a hypocrite."

His eyes clouded again, and were once more cold. "But that isn't what I want. I want a challenge. I want to meet someone interesting. An opponent who doesn't bore me."

He looked back to Rider. "I think that's something you can appreciate. Is it not?"

The smile that swept across Rider's face was horrifying, to say the very least. It was that of a soldier, a killer and a murderer. The servant removed his glasses to stare directly into Dirk's eyes, a few errant pieces of hair falling across his face as his mad grimace only grew. He knew the look in the boy's eyes. It amused him to no end to see it in the most unlikely of places. There was no mistaking that nativity, that cocksure attitude that nothing in the world could bring him to his knees - it was himself.

As the thought settled in his mind a laugh began to tickle at his throat. The servant let it escape, chuckling in a blood chilling manner. As the laugh grew louder, so did its vile power. Before he knew it, Rider had caught the attention of the entire cafe for the briefest of moments, a veil of dread settling over the restaurant. The maniacal sound rang through the heart and minds of everyone around, twisting and souring the soul in disturbing ways. Even one so poised as Maria Marks found herself shivering with disgust, the cackling chilling to the bone. It was the sound of nightmares and she abhorred it at her very core. As the laugh subsided the cafe began to slowly move once more, though with a distinct air of unnerving tension.

"You foolish boy," he said, his voice a low rumble of power. "You cannot imagine what lies ahead. You say the rhetoric you have practiced a thousand times at your reflection, mimic the motions you believe to be true a thousand more and keep the tone you imagine is that of what you wish to become, however you still do not know the truth..."

The hand Rider had tightly gripped around Dirk's hand just as quickly released it. Instead it found a new home around the pocket knife the peasant before him had dared to brandish at his new master. With a quickness and fluidity of a master of war, he twirled the knife within his fingers nimbly until the blade faced downward. He stab down at Dirk's hand without a second thought, the blade expertly parting the boy's fingers with but a unperceivable tiny flick of the servant's wrist and drove the knife deep into the table. If it weren't for the crowd's low roar of conversation around them the thud of the weapon lodging itself into the surface of the table would have been deafening.

"You are no warrior, peasant. Death will be your only release and I shall see to it that you find it quickly and uncomfortably."

The servant then sat back, slipping his aviators back onto his face and looking as disinterested as ever.

"Now leave. I tire of your games. You are a stupid and crass player and I only accept those who can play to a beautiful end."

Dirk was silent for a moment. The hustle and bustle of the cafe in the final peak of its lunch rush drowned out the noiselessness that would have otherwise prevailed. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into a fold of his scarf and retrieved his own shades, placing them back onto his face. He then smiled at Rider, warmly and genuinely. That only made it more chilling.

He took his knife by the grip, and with a single tug and flick pulled it from its embedded point. He placed it back in hiding with a swift motion.

"The game only ends when this knife plunges into your throat."

He stood, stretching out his muscles before giving a final nod to Maria.

"Give your brother my regards. And tell him I find his 'noble' cause... interesting. Moreso, considering the company he keeps. Enjoy the food."

Orihara turned, walking away quietly. With a wave, Saber was summoned to his side. The Servant gave a single, contemptuous glare at the pair still at the booth, before joining him. They left the cafe and took to the city streets, heading eastward. The taller man of the pair shook his head in disgust at the impetuous boy.

"That was reckless, confronting them like that. He could have killed you in an instant."

"Yes, that's true..." Dirk admitted, eyes squarely in front. "But then again, he didn't, did he?"

"You take that as a sign, then?"

"Of course. Even if he wouldn't kill me, nothing stopped him from snapping my wrist. It would have been as simple as bending a straw to him. Whether he wants to admit it or not..."

"Your words affected him."

"Precisely." Orihara stepped up the pace. "Hurry, Saber. We wasted too much time toying with our foes. We'll need to move quickly, and prepare for dusk."

The Servant furrowed his brow, only his code preventing him from smacking a little sense into the upstart. "After all that, back against the wall, you still believe that you held the upper hand? You still believe you played them?"

"...Like a fiddle."

Back inside the restaurant Rider was already going to work. He took the cellphone out from his breast pocket and began to raise the volume so he could hear the response from Clay on the other side. His face was pure concentration as he slipped from out of the booth, taking Maria's hand and urging her to get up.

"We just encountered Saber's master," Rider explained as Maria scrambled to her feet. "You are correct, boy. He must be eliminated as soon as possible. I shall follow him to avoid any unwelcome surprises when we attack him tonight. You will meet me as soon as possible so that your sister may find refuge before the coming battle."

The servant then handed the phone over to the sister of his master, more focused on keeping an eye on Dirk and Saber as they left the cafe. Maria fumbled with the phone before almost screaming into it as she was being dragged around by the giant man.

"Clay, I can't stop him!" she hastily said, her voice panicked from the situation. "What do I do? This wasn't apart of the plan!"

"You follow him, Maria." Clay answered as if it were nothing. "You keep with him and he'll keep you alive. I'll be there momentarily."

"Clay, I-I-I-..." she stammered, not sure what to say. Everything was happening so quickly and the last person she wanted to be beside was the monster who was leading her around town. "Alright. Fine." She finally regained her composure, knowing her brother was correct. She had the seals and if worse came to worse she could always control Rider with a simple command.

So she let Rider lead her, the warrior keeping his attention squarely focused on his targets. He wasn't concerned with hiding - he couldn't have cared less if they knew he was following them. All he was concerned with was keeping them in sight until nightfall. Then he would show Dirk what it truly meant to battle against a God of the battlefield.

 

[CJ1145]

pat pat pat pat

The plodding footfalls were the only sound Orihara could focus on as he and his Servant wound through the streets. A cornucopia of pedestrians flowed around them like water. He was heading east, to meet with his contact. Had about three, four hours to prepare for the coming battle. But as he glanced his Servant's way, he could already tell the day wouldn't be that simple. Saber seemed on edge, occasionally shifting his eyes to try and catch a glimpse behind them, without drawing too much suspicion to himself.

"Speak," Dirk commanded.

"I see a familiar shadow trailing us."

"Rider is following us, then."

"Correct." Saber failed to sound enthused about it. "It seems you've made a friend, young Lord. A very clingy one." He raised an eyebrow and posited, "You knew?"

"I can still feel that girl, Maria. She must be trailing us as well." Dirk hummed lightly to himself, shutting out the bustling noises of a city in its daily throes. His eyes closed, and imagined somewhere more peaceful. A meadow, green as an emerald and dappled with white daisies. A perfect place to think. His eyes opened once more. "I think we can lose them."

"Do you, now?" Saber questioned. His master hadn't had, in his opinion, the best track record with these plans. Orihara aimed to prove him wrong.

Dirk scoffed at his companion's doubt. "Watch and learn."

He stepped up his pace, catching up to a tall man a few feet ahead of him. He reached up, tapping his shoulder to grab his attention. "Excuse me, sir. Have you seen a young lady around here? White hair, likely accompanied by two older men?"

The man scratched his chin, wracking his brain for the image. "Er, sorry kid, no. But head a block up, look for the guy with a plaid cap. He knows everybody around these parts, maybe he saw her."

"Thanks." Dirk let the man move on with his day, slowed down and let Saber catch up. The Servant only narrowed his eyes.

"You were lucky, this once. Don't count on luck for everything."

Dirk stopped at a crosswalk, waving his companion along as they darted across the way. "There's no such thing as luck."

* * *​

"White hair, white hair... and ya say she was young?" asked the man. Dressed in a plaid cap, a blue polo, and khaki shorts that were far too small on him, the man was no younger than eighty. He relaxed on the street corner in a fold-out chair, watching people pass by with a margarita in hand. Today's was lime green. Presently, Dirk and Saber reclined against the gray wall behind him, tapping their feet as he tried to narrow down their search.

"Yes, young adult," Dirk clarified. The man nodded, sloshing around the liquid half of his drink.

"Hrm, yes, I see... two older men..." He snapped his fingers. "One of 'em look like an old butler-type fella?"

"Yes," Dirk replied with a hint of excitement. He leaned forward from the wall, eager to hear the old man's answer.

"...Ain't seen 'em!"

THUD

Dirk bashed his skull against the wall. Sweet pain to dull the sting of stupid. Saber could only bow his head. "Well, this was pointless..."

"Now hold on, I ain't done yet!" the old man insisted. "I ain't seem 'em today, but sounds like yer talkin' about that fancy rich girl that comes 'round these parts!"

The geezer lifted up a crinkly finger and pointed down the street to the left of him. "More often than not, you can find her 'round those shops down there."

A wave of relief passed through the pair both. Dirk tossed the man twenty yen as they peeled themselves from the wall. A brisk pace carried them off, eager not to lose any more time. Saber gave another wary glare at his Master. "Luck."

"Hardly."

Between a bickering married couple, children attached to their legs. Around a street performer, bashing on some old paint cans to strike out a beat. Straight on through a roving herd of cosplayers, the pair moved, eyes scanning for the white hair to indicate their target. At last, they caught a glimpse of their prize on the street corner. White hair, flanked by a pair of men. Dirk breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"Good, she hasn't gone home. Lucky us."

"What happened to 'no such thing'?!"

Dirk kept an even pace. Charging headlong down the street was likely to put her on edge. As far as she knew, this meeting was a coincidence. He stopped in his tracks as they came face to face on the street corner, and nodded his head. "Einzbern. Small world."

If Ilene was surprised by the meeting, she failed to show it. And judging by the expectant looks on Lancer and her butler's face, they weren't exactly shocked either. "Mr. Pace, was it? Can't say I expected to see you again."

"Well, the reunion isn't over just yet. I'd suggest we not stay still; we have an... admirer on our tail, as I'm sure Lancer is aware."

"'Our' tail? The last time I checked, my companions and I weren't being followed. At least, we weren't until you tried to head us off."

"So hostile," the boy quietly noted. "Well, whether you like it or not, I'm afraid this has become an 'us'. I think that will work to your advantage, though."

He gestured across the street. "If you'll follow us, I'd like to talk business. Business on how you might acquire some... valuable assets."

Ilene raised an eyebrow, but didn't walk away. "I'm listening. For now."

"Well, let me ask you a question, and let you reason it out. Rider's hounding me quite well at the moment. If he's chasing me across Fuyuki, high and low... who's guarding Clay's sister?"

Ilene stood silent for a moment, before a devious, dangerous grin nearly split her face in two. "I see your point, Mr. Pace. If that's your offer, then I might be able to loan you a little bit in ways of assistance."

"I'm glad you see it my way," Dirk remarked. "I'm going to be leading Rider on a little... chase in a moment. If you double back the way I came, I imagine you'll either find her trying to follow Rider, or still sitting at the diner. And if she is following, she won't be able to keep up for long, at the speeds we'll be going."

He laxly pointed a finger at her, and instructed, "All you need do is cut her off, once Rider's too far to double back. It's minimal effort on your part. Sound like a deal?"

Though she brushed aside the offending digit with an air of annoyance, the girl's words were certainly agreeable enough. "It strikes me as satisfactory, yes. And didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to point at strangers?"

"She taught me not to complain when a stranger put a gift in my lap," he teased. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a Servant to bait."

Dirk crossed the street, Saber by his side, and set his eyes on the alleyway between a drab apartment block and a steel-and-glass office. An old route he'd frequented in his past. As a crowd passed, covering them from onlookers, they slunk into the dark solitude.

Ilene and her entourage went in the opposite direction, looking around for any sign of Maria and Rider.

Back in the alley, Saber groaned in disbelief as he followed his Master. Dirk broke into a run, moving through the narrow passageways. The pair crashed through several trash cans and ducked around a corner. "This is your daring escape plan? We can't outrun Rider like this. Or at all, for that matter."

Dirk just gave a dry chuckle. "Let it play out, Saber. This alley leads us north, into the thickest parts of Shinto. A thousand places to hide there. And if not, we've always got our passage back to the hotel. But I'm not counting on those yet."

The two were in a fairly spacious gap between several brick buildings. The ground was wet, and muddy from melted snow; slush clung to their boots from the recent snowfall. In the corner, a black cat hid itself away in soggy cardboard boxes, tossed to the wayside. Dirk looked in each direction, a smile on his lips. He remembered this place, from when he was a boy. The smell of fresh hot dogs, grilled on the streets on a blistering summer day tantalized his memory. He pointed to a thin slit of an alley to their left. "This way." He led the way, shunting himself through and dashing down the enclosed space. As they shimmied their way through, he explained.

"Rider has two options. Tail us, or protect Maria. If he does the former, one of his Masters will be meeting an unfortunate fate. The latter, and we lose him."

"What if he simply brings Maria with?" Saber asked. Dirk shrugged, dismissive of the thought.

"Doubtful. He doesn't seem the type to burden himself in a fight."

Saber grunted in exasperation. "It's time you stopped underestimating your foes, young Lord," he warned. "I ask once more: what if he does it?"

Dirk paused in his speech, knitting his brow into a frown. "...If he does, I know this city like the back of my hand. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. I'd rather not waste the resources I'd be wasting, but if he does, I have a foolproof plan."

"I hope so, for your sake..."

They spoke no more, exiting the stifling alleyway and finding themselves at the entrance to a parking garage. Dirk signaled forward. "We'll move through the bottom level."

He held up a hand as Saber prepared to move. "Wait. Kneel."

Saber eyed his Master curiously. But, he did as was requested. Dirk moved behind him and clambered onto his shoulders, wrapping his legs around his waist. Saber's face reddened, and he vainly tried to twist his neck far enough 'round to glare at the boy who would use him for a horse.

"This will be faster," Dirk explained, ignorant to his audacious demands. "Now pick up the pace."

Saber hesitated, but relented. What this war has lowered me to. A glorified steed. He dashed through the parking lot, ducking between cars faster than any human could have ever hoped to run.

 

[Pappytech]

Spoiler: Special OOC Rules Specification

It should already be known by all that a Master's Command Spells can be sensed by other Masters. The purpose of this post is to specify just how accurate this sensing can be.

Command Spells can first be detected when two Masters are within 500 yards of each other. At this distance, Masters will only have a vague sense that one of their foes is around. As the distance decreases, however, the sensation will grow stronger and stronger; though it's not exactly precise, it can be used as a rudimentary compass. It is not accurate enough to trace someone through large crowds or confusing streets and alleyways, however. It cannot be thrown off by ordinary magical means.

When Masters are close enough (No further than 100 yards away) and make clear eye contact (Regardless of sunglasses or other eye wear) they are able to recognize each other as Masters.

 

[Arcanist]

13:30 - Marks Manor Basement

Diana took up one of the only clean rags she had left, wiping the sweat off her brow. The forge she stoked roared and crackled, its flames white hot. So hot, in fact, that normal steel could not withstand its fury - the runes adorning the furnace exterior shone with an unearthly red light, straining to keep the metal from warping. Even with the suppression spell she had set up, the heat radiating into the room was getting truly intense. She'd spent the last hour since Maria left stoking and feeding the fire, getting it as hot as her talents would allow.

And it still wasn-t enough. Not even close, as a matter of fact.

But she was a Marks, and a Marks doesn-t give up until their job is done. She still had one trick up her sleeve, and if it didn?t work?

'No. It WILL work.' She bit down on her lip, a sense of unease creeping into the pit of her stomach. This would likely be the last chance she would have at making this project a success - or, at least, in time for it to be useful to Clay. Reaching into the bag at her side, she removed a small pouch, the alchemical symbol for fire inscribed on its side. Donning a thick set of blacksmith's gloves, she unzipped the bag and poured its ashen contents into the forge. It gave a terrifying roar in response, the red-white flames turning a deep blue.

'Looks like somebody at Clocktower didn't fudge their results to get published, for once.' The flames now at an acceptable temperature, she reached once more into her satchel and gingerly removed a single stone. It was an ugly black thing, looking akin to half-spent coal, but you wouldn?t think so with the delicate way Diana handled it. Holding it in a heavy pair of tempered steel tongs, she took in a deep breath, steadying her nerves. Seven years of research rested on this moment.

Letting her breath go, she carefully placed the stone in the belly of the forge. The tongs in her hand grew red hot in an instant, causing them to smoke against her gloves. She jerked back and dropped them, her eyes still fixated on the furnace.

Five minutes passed. The flames still roared, seemingly unchanged.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Finally, after thirty minutes had passed, the furnace went dark, the flames starved for fuel. Diana let out a dejected sigh. 'Another sodding failure.' She turned to leave the soot-caked room with a dejected swagger. 'I guess Dad was right. I really am useless?'

As she opened the door to leave, however, she heard a hiss from the opposite side of the room. It sounded distinctly like pop one hears when a sudden fire starts, except it didn't let up. As though a fire was starting and extinguishing itself over and over. She stood frozen as the hiss subsided? and was replaced by the gentle cracking of a fire.

Dashing to pick up her tongs, she bolted to the furnace, and her breath caught when she peered within. Inside the furnace, amongst the spent coal ash, lay the stone ? but burning with a blood red flame. She quickly scooped the stone up in her tongs. The tips of the tool burst into flame on contact, starting to warp and contort. Diana tossed the stone into the ash bed at her side, throwing the tongs into the furnace.

Removing a hammer and chisel from her bag, she positioned it above the smoldering stone and struck off a piece no larger than a small coin. It smoldered with a dark red flame, and the chisel, same as the tongs, burst into flames upon contact. This, too, she discarded into the furnace, her breath coming short and her demeanor giddy. "This is it! I did it!" She silently squealed in celebration. There was only one thing left to do - place it in the lantern.

It sat on the table to her right. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be an ordinary iron and glass lantern, specially hooded to let air in and out in a controlled manner. But at its center stood a small cauldron made of a silvery metal, inscribed with runes not unlike the ones adorning the furnace. As carefully as she could, she used tweezers of magically tempered steel to place the sliver of burning stone into the cauldron. The tool grew red hot at the stone's touch, causing them to hiss against Diana's gloves. The stone placed, she stood back to admire her work, using a rag to wipe soot from her grinning face.

It was finished. Seven years of tireless work, come to fruition. All that was left was present it to the one man alive that could use it best.

*******

Clay hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket. There was no time to waste ? he had to get to Shinto immediately. Slinging on his trenchcoat, he dashed to the door.

"Clay! WAIT!"

He stopped at the landing when he heard his younger sister calling. Turning with a puzzled look on his face, he saw her approach wearing a set of thick gloves and a sooty labcoat. "Diana? Wha?" His expression souring, he turned back to leave, annoyance rising in his voice. "I don't have time to help you with your experiments, Diana."

"But? I'm done! And I have something really important to show you!" The urgency in her voice overpowered his better judgment and he stopped, turning back with a sigh. "Very well. What is it you?" His breath caught as he saw Diana produce a lantern from her satchel. It wasn't ornate and it certainly wasn't intimidating, but that wasn't what caught his attention. No, it was the blood red flame glowing in the lamp's center, smoldering with a powerful energy he could feel in his very bones.

Diana walked to his front and presented the lantern, beaming him an excited grin. "And you said it would take decades!"

"Is that what I think it is?" Clay looked at the lantern with awe, his hands trembling as they moved to accept his sister?s gift. Diana answered with a self-satisfied nod, not bothering to hide the smugness she felt at accomplishing this task.

As he held the lantern in his hands, Clay could feel his heart beat wildly through his chest. The flame burning at the lantern?s center reacted to his touch, growing from a gentle flicker to an intense burn as it traded hands from sister to brother. ?This? I can't believe you did it. Diana?? He raised to meet her eyes with a wolfish grin. "You've just forged the most dangerous weapon in all Japan."

He turned to leave, strapping the lantern to his coat, his spirits high. "I rather think I'm going to have fun tonight."

 

[Pappytech]

18:00 - Fuyuki City

Spoiler: OOC

Yeah, sorry about the lack of transition here. Trying to get back into the swing of classes doesn't really leave much time for writing out detailed posts; I'll probably be a bit inactive for the next couple days

Anyway, it's night now. Feel free to start killing each other.

 

[CJ1145]

18:00 - Miyamachou Park

A lone star watched anxiously from the sky. Bitter, agonizing wind drifted between the trees, warning away any with no business. This was not a good night to be in the park. On that night, only one man seemed to disagree. Dirk rested against a thick tree trunk, rubbing his hands together. He let out a hot breath between his palms, watching the misty air quickly blend with the colder atmosphere. He tugged on the ends of his scarf, pulling it just a little tighter. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he'd been the one duped. He certainly hoped not, though then again he sincerely doubted he had been. He'd remembered the look in that Master's eyes as she'd laid down the challenge. Very earnest, very determined.

Very gullible...

He patted up and down the sides of his torso. His long shirt was complemented now by a very long, maroon greatcoat. His hands felt various lumps, assuring him that everything was still in place. On his left index and middle fingers, the light pressure of strings tied to them served as constant reminders. This would have to be done perfectly. And if it wasn't? Well...

He glanced off into the woods surrounding the little clearing he'd found. If things went wrong, he always had the backup plan.

[hr]

13:40 - Miyama, Wonder Carnival

Hidden in the center of urban district of the eastern half of Fuyuki, Wonder Carnival was not the most comfortable-looking store. A squat, square building with a frontside painted the same blue as the sky, with a gaudy clown face looming over the store's sign. In the windows, miniature cities full of toy citizens going about their strange toy lives could be seen, set up perfectly to lure in entertainment-starved children. And hopefully, parents with plenty of money to burn, and an intense desire to shut up the little brats they were following around.

Dirk glared at the unwelcoming place. After eluding their pursuers, he'd directed Saber to bring them straight here. But now that he was actually here, a pit in his gut told hi not to go in. Not for any fear of safety, but for his dignity. His eyes met the gaze of the clown's. The comical creature's black coal pits burned a tunnel into Dirk's very soul.

"I hate clowns."

Dirk led the way, pushing open the screen glass door. A little bell chimed, alerting any who dared haunt this place of his arrival. It was exactly what an independently-owned toy store would be expected to look like. Literally the exact place that a respectable adult would steer their children away from. Hopeless, dreary gray floors were stained in all manner of snot, spilled juice, and tears from the hundreds of children to step through its entryway. Five depressingly short aisles ran down to the other end of the store, where the cash register waited. A clever trap. To buy anything, you must get so deep into their clutches, you've already lost all chance of escape.

Today, there were no customers. Orihara felt a chill run down his spine. Why did that make this place feel even more detestable? He marched into the middle aisle, confronted by a thousand grummy toys that were old when he was a child. Transformers, Gamera, Kamen Rider... wait, was that Captain Marvelous?

Dirk's advance came to a screeching halt, and his neck craned as he backed up a step to get a second look at the toy he'd just passed. Yes. Yes, that was definitely Gokai Red. Captain Marvelous in all his... marvelousness. Dirk stared for a moment, face blank. The box was immaculate, and possessed a luster like metal. Inside, the plastic figure stoically watched. A silent challenge.

Dirk's hand twitched, slowly raising toward the box...

He shook his head, and his hand shot back down to his side.

I'm here on business.

He turned back and continued walking toward the cash register.

Besides, I don't have any room to carry it around.

The cash register sat on a stark white counter top, behind which sat an unwelcoming metal door to god-knows-where. Said door opened, through which stepped a skinny little shrimp of a man, with a tuft of black hair atop his head and a pencil-like, bent and crooked mustache leaping from his lip. Dressed in a sweater vest and khaki pants, he looked just about right for the type of strange little man to run this store. He nearly jumped from his skin seeing the pair of men before him, and bowed so far only an inch or so separated his forehead and the counter.

"W-welcome to Wonder Carnival, sirs! How may I help you today?"

Dirk shook his head, and smacked a hand on the counter. That got the man's attention, and he jerked back up.

"No games, Sharkey. We want a look at your real stock."

The sniveling little man narrowed his eyes. "Real stock? You're looking at it! I don't know what you're suggesting, but--"

Orihara's hands clenched tightly against the man's shirt and pulled him closer. Their foreheads smacked together, giving Sharkey a very close and personal look at the cold in Dirk's eyes. He whispered, "I said no games. Weapons. explosives. Everything you've got."

"T-this is a toy store!" Sharkey exclaimed. "What kind of twisted freak would tell you I've got weapons in an innocent little toyshop?!"

"Sanosuke Orihara."

A deathly silence swept up the room and its occupants. Sharkey's arms slumped, and his crooked little mouth drooped. Several long moments passed, long enough for deep breaths on both sides.

"...You're the guy then. You're... younger-lookin' than I thought you'd be."

Dirk released him, using just enough force to knock the smaller man off-balance when he stepped back. "Just show me what you have."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure, follow me." Sharkey lifted up a flap on the counter, allowing both Dirk and Saber to pass to his side. He opened the metal door, and led them back into the room behind the store. A gray, dreary place with only a single bluish-white bulb to illuminate its shady dealings. A grimy round poker table sat in the center of the room, with five fold-out chairs situated around it. On the walls, various unmarked boxes sat on rusty metal shelves. Poker cards laid flat on the floor, fused to it by the binding agents of spilled soda, long coagulated. Dirk could feel his boots sticking to the floor and ripping away with each step. Disgusting. Sharkey beckoned to the table, allowing Dirk and Saber to take their seats while he ducked into a corner, pulling up a gunmetal gray lockbox. He was muttering little snippets of complaints as he brought it up to bear.

"...don't know WHERE the old boss expected me to find assassination gear on such short notice, but, did the best I could. Come, come, take a look at this."

He flipped the lockbox open, and gestured with an inviting hand as he brandished its contents for Dirk and Saber. On the left of the case, one dozen cylindrical devices. "M80 Flashbangs," Sharkey helpfully noted. "Set this off in someone's face, and they'll be blind, deaf, and squirming like an infant beneath your boot's heel."

Dirk arched an eyebrow, but remained silent. More ruthless than you look, Sharkey...

He then gestured to a pair of black and yellow boxes attached to pistol grips. "X3 Tasers, top of the line," Sharkey insisted. "Strong enough electrical charge to incapacitate even the biggest, ugliest fuckers you'll ever meet."

"That remains to be seen."

Sharkey was undaunted by Dirk's skepticism, and kept his salesman's grin. "The proof's in the pudding, or whatever that phrase is. You get three shots each before you've gotta reset it. That takes a while, so in a scuffle you should be projecting that you get six shots, max. Make 'em count."

The last part of this care package, as it might be called, was something else. A pair of black devices, that looked like they were meant to have the fingers fed through the four holes at the top, with a grip beneath for the palm. "This," Sharkey said, "is my special gift. These things are shit, retail. I found you the good shit, as a special gift. Only the best for the nephew of One-Stroke Orihara. Try 'em on."

Dirk hesitated for a brief moment, before reaching out and grabbing one of the devices. He slipped it on, feeling a small trigger. Warily, he pressed down on the trigger.

An impressed breath escaped his mouth as a clicking nose, and a bright blue light filled the room.

[hr]

14:14 - Shinto, Department Store, Men's Clothing Section


"So, thoughts?" Dirk asked rhetorically, spinning on his feet as he examined his choice of clothes in the mirror. "Does my butt look big in this?"

Saber dryly responded, "You look fine. Remind me why you need a new coat?"

The coat in particular was a greatcoat, the only one of its kind in the store. Maroon trimmed a brighter red body, giving a rather bloody look to its wearer. While it fit his body well, it was large and somewhat concealing by its very design. Orihara gave a satisfied nod after one more go-around in the mirror. "Because," he explained. "we won't be making any progress trying to lug around a smorgasbord of weapons by hand. I need something to keep it concealed. This works." He patted the sides of the coat, indicating multiple pockets on both the inside and out. "Do you have the case?"

Saber hefted up the briefcase for his Master to see. Dirk took it from him, and selected several shirts and pairs of pants off the racks before moving into the dressing room. At the moment, all the rooms were vacant. He chose the one at the far end, to minimize the chances of someone walking by and getting nosy when they see a metal lockbox on the floor. He slipped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. The quiet click announced, to him at least, that the game was afoot. His eyes slyly slipped to the top corner of the dressing room. A benign camera watched for any signs of trouble. Dirk acknowledged its presence with a little smile. An interesting dilemma. How to conceal his actions...

He slipped the coat off, setting it on the bench, then ripped the scarf from his neck, tossing it casually over his shoulder. It draped over the camera, smothering its view. He removed his shirt next, tossing it back and watching out of the corner of his eye as it jumbled up alongside his scarf. Fully shielded from prying eyes, he set to work. He took one of the shirts he'd grabbed and pulled it on. A button-up, long sleeved deal that was primarily white with pink stripes. A little gaudy. But gaudy was nice now and then. He put on the coat next, setting the hefty thing over his frame. I'll need to do this quick. Security will be down shortly to alert me of my "mistake", I imagine...

He set the box up on the bench provided, opening it up and taking one last look over his cargo. He took the knuckles first. Those would be important. He slipped those into the pockets that rested about thigh level. One moment he could be idling, keeping his hands warm, and the next he could be ready for combat with his secret weapons, to boot. Perfect. He took the tasers next, setting them in a pair of discreet locations. Ready to quick-draw. But he wasn't finished yet. The flashbangs went everywhere he could possibly hide them. He could only begin to imagine his misfortune, should something set those grenades off before he'd deployed them properly. That would certainly be nasty. Once he was finished, he closed the lockbox back up. As if on cue, a knock came on the door.

"Sir? Sir, please open up."

Dirk moved to the little door, undoing the latch and opening it up. A hefty man with a toothbrush mustache and an extra chin, wearing a security guard's uniform was standing before him. "Sir, I'm not sure if you've noticed... but you're kind blocking our security camera."

Dirk's eyes followed the meaty, pointing finger of the guard to look at his scarf and shirt completely enveloping the little device in the top corner. His face reddened a little, and he made no delay in snatching his clothes from the spot and bowing before the guard. "T-terribly sorry, sir! I promise, it won't happen again!"

The guard scoffed, smiling at the submissive kid with his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. "Well, ya don't need to get all bleary-eyed on me, just don't do it again!"

"Yes sir!" Dirk accentuated his words by raising up slightly, only to bow even further down this time. The guard gave a quick goodbye and went on about his business, leaving Dirk to collect his things and meet Saber out by the register. The Servant didn't need to mention that this all could have been avoided if he'd done the changing in an alley after they'd left the store. Dirk was likely fully aware of that, and simply didn't care.

[hr]

15:07 - Shinto, Hardware Store

The entire store seemed to smell of sawdust and linoleum. At least, it did to Dirk. The high ceilings seemed to lend a grandiose atmosphere to the place, even though it really didn't seem to need it. The aisles were long and intimidating, and the shelves massive, going thirty feet up into the air. Lights, fans, lumber, grilling supplies, furniture, rugs, appliances. If anything was needed for your home, you came to this store. At the moment, he was about fifteen aisles down from the entrance, near about the middle of the store, where the aisles broke off for a middle clearing, home to all sorts of model rooms to show off the latest products. A worker far too happy with his job was standing beside him, listing off various features of the model he held in his hand. An electric drill, cordless, and very compact.

"I want to make this clear," Orihara stressed. "The work I'm doing is very heavy duty. You're sure the bit will hold?"

"Oh, absolutely, mister!" The young employee was practically shaking with exuberance. Dirk felt a little sick. It was like he'd found a second Koji, but this Koji had in turn found caffeine. "That bit's the stuff of the gods. Won't find a sturdier set on the market!"

Dirk stared at the device for a moment longer. He nodded, and gestured to the shelf behind him, where several boxes of the thing could be found. "I'll take it. Let's hope this drill is as good as your pitch. Now then. About that aerosol..."

[hr]

16:20 - Miyama, Satou Convenience Store

A young woman peered behind her vaguely rectangular eyeglasses at Orihara. Her medium-length, blue hair and immaculate uniform gave an image of seriousness. Something that Dirk hardly expected to find in the employee of a convenience store. The mischievous, accusing glare she gave said everything words could have, and more. Dirk, for his part, leered back at her similarly. "I'm eighteen," he bluntly stated. The girl clearly wasn't buying it. He sighed in frustration, defeated, and pulled out his wallet. He flipped through a few cards before removing his ID and handing it to the young woman. "Here."

She looked it over once, then once more, and then just once more, to be sure. Scrutiny was certainly a virtue of this girl. She nodded astutely, handing the ID back, along with his purchase: a pack of cigarettes, some obscenely dark shades, and two lighters. Dirk nodded, more politely than even he would have expected from himself. Though he was a few yen shorter than he'd have liked, the need to improve was weighing heavily on him. He'd need to pull out all the stops if he was to claim a victory tonight. The thought of backing out toyed with him, but he shunted it away.

I've come to far to back out now. This opportunity won't arise again. I'm taking it.

"Have a nice day, sir~!" called the other employee, some bouncy chubby girl with pink hair. Dirk threw up a hand as a parting gesture, walking out the door to find Saber waiting for him. He nodded, and the two of them began strolling down the sidewalk heading west. At the first trash can they passed, Dirk pulled out his carton of cigarettes, removing one and placing it into his pocket. The rest, he tossed.

"Did you get what we need?" he asked of his Servant. Saber produced the required goods. Half a dozen spools of taut, strong wire. Precisely what was asked, precisely what was needed. Dirk felt a little confidence building back up. He'd worried that the Marks girl and her Servant had eaten up too much of their time. But luck seemed to favor the bold today. He had everything he needed now. All the pair had to do was set up. It was a quiet stroll to Miyamachou Park. The cold was beginning to settle in for the long night, and anyone with a little intelligence was hiding out in the coziest, warmest place they could find. This left the park eerily quiet as the sun readied for the final descent. Dirk led Saber out into the park, finding a little clearing that suited their purposes. Isolated enough to stay out of sight, but easy enough to find once somebody started coming their way.

"You're expected to be the fringe guard," Dirk told his companion. "Stay out of sight, and come in once our trap's been sprung. But if at all possible... try and keep an eye on the perimeter before that happens. I can only track the Masters, and if you're right about one being Archer or Caster, they'll likely be further off, trying to get a sneak attack in. I'll be relying on you to make sure that doesn't happen, all right?"

In a sudden motion, Dirk produced a pair of spades. "But that's neither here nor there. For now, help me dig and set all of this up."

[hr]

18:00

It had been an eventful day, to say the least. Dirk felt a severe craving for another white mocha.

Maybe I'll treat myself after this. I suppose I should force a little down Sir Knight's throat too. How does one live drinking so much tea, and nothing sweet?

He leaned back against the tree, content. His hands slowly felt their way around a pair of little devices in his pocket, waiting for the moment to put them on. He waited for his guests to arrive. "Come on, then, girl. Lady. Show me what you've got."

 

[Ruedyn]

Mordecai was happy to get out of his apartment, and taste the fresh-ish air of the city. His crossing into Shinto was also easy, or at least less clogged than his trip into Miyama. Mordecai didn't even sense any masters, which was nice. In fairness, he had yet to really sense one up close, and he had no idea if he would even know if he felt the tingle of an approaching enemy, ordering some famous dead spirit to bear down on him with a sword the size of a car. Mordecai thought for a minute, outside a grocery store.
"Are we necromancers?"

"No, just lucky." Mordecai practically jumped, but found he recognized the voice, barely. It seemed less angry than the last time.

"Aidan, or something, right?" The man chuckled, before speaking again.

"Aidan Fraga, at your service... Warren." Aidan bowed deeply, smiling knowingly. Mordecai shook his head, slowly.

"Congratulations, you managed to see through the obviously fake name of your brother. Your new ferrari is behind door number one." Mordecai walked past him, into the store, but Aidan persisted.

"That really was no way to speak to your family, do you really want to leave on that note?"

"More than you know." Regardless, his brother strolled next to him, though you could hardly tell their relationship. Beyond the accent, and the eyes were similar. Aidan wore a higher class suit, without the tie and the first 4 buttons remained unbuttoned. He wore a white dress glove over his left hand, covering a few rune tattoos that improved his strength to herculean levels.

"I've not the faintest why you got all dads neat toys, and I got left out in the cold."

"It's probably because you were an insufferable kiss ass, who thinks following people during their chores is a great way to endear ones self. It isn't, its actually quite creepy." Mordecai took a quick turn, trying to throw the younger off. It didn't work, and Aidan grabbed Mordecai as softly as super strength allowed, which was pretty damn roughly.

"I'm going to just cut to the chase, do you think your E-Bay bought servant can win you a war? The answer is no, so why not have me along for the ride? I already know a few families have their hats thrown into the ring."

"How do you know this, have you been in fuyuki city this whole time?" Aidan shook his head, tutting.

"No, we in the mages Association just have our ways of finding things out." Mordecai sighed, and just walked off to continue buying literally any food that wasn't pizza. His brother continued to try and strike up conversation, but Mordecai ignored him for the most part. His brother grabbed him again when Mordecai was finished, and started waling back to home base.

"Look, going to invite me to help you, or stick with only one ally?" Mordecai gave a few minutes to think.

"Sure, and you can start by proving your worth, I want you to check, and find out where these other big name masters are, and how screwed I'd be in a one on one fight with them." Aidan grinned, in smug victory mostly but also relief, and started walking off, intent on doing this mission.

 

[Ruedyn]

Aidan went to check out the obvious first, hopping into his car, a nondescript white rental car, he went on his way to check out the mansions, as checking those out for activity was actually possible without a seal. First up, Einzbern.

A decrepit, burned out husk in the middle of the woods. Lovely. The woods around the manor looked to have crept away from the land, leaving a crater around the sad land. The only sign of inhabitants was a soft snoring, from inside the house. A squatter, or was this simply a piss poor illusion? Aidan stepped further towards the house, softly and almost completely without noise. Looking over a charred, semi collapsed wall through what might have once been a window, he looked in.

A sleeping bear? Aidan frowned, hopping over the chest high obstacle, and pulling off his glove. The runes on his knuckles glowed, before he let down a quick punch to the bears skull. A loud CRACK echoed through the woods. Aidan looked around, nobody around. Too bad, was the only place where he could use his identity. Aidan sighed, from here on out it was stealth rather than guile. Aidan went back to his car, popping the trunk and grabbing a suitcase out of it. He went back to the house, opening the suitcase and grabbing his gear. He began taking off his suit.

His gear numbered a black hooded tight jumpsuit, with the left sleeve ripped off, to reveal his runed bandages that covered his arm, though it covered every part but his head. He also had steel toed boots, with padded soles to decrease noise. The whole ensemble was completed with a Guy Fawkes mask, though his feathered hair fell over it slightly on the right side. He smiled, getting back into his car. Next stop was the Marks manor, as it was closest.

This house looked actually alive, which was immediately promising. He viewed it from a distance however, noting it would probably be booby trapped somewhat. Or a lot, depending on how psychotic the master of the house was. He was a damn limey, from what Aidan could remember, so fairly so. Aidan smiled underneath his mask as he got to work.

His job was to see if they were competing, the best way to find out? Draw them out, and see if they had a servant or two lying around. Aidan knew he couldn't fight one head to head for long, but running should be easy enough. Unless it was a rider. then it would be complicated. And fun.

As this was going through his mind, he leaped towards the building at a dizzying speed. 3 bounds was what it took to get to the premises, and another two to jump up to the second story window, and then the roof. Once there, it was as simple as activate the second knuckle rune, and bringing his fist down hard enough to rattle the house. Not enough to break through though. and he punched the ceiling a second time.
"Last one." Aidan muttered, activating his personal favorite. His fist lit ablaze, and he brought his fist down with as much strength as he could, opening a large hole in the roof. And setting it on fire. Lovely!

"Good evening, Gentlemen." Aidan shouted from the top of his lungs, hoping to alert as many people as possible before continuing on his rampage. His smile was wolfish as he kicked another hole in the floor beneath him, dropping him another level.

 

[Arcanist]

Aidan dusted himself off as he stood up, standing in a hallway directly underneath the attic. He couldn't help but grin to himself - breaking into the manor was much easier than he thought it would be! The limey jackass in charge hadn't even bothered to trap the manor properly.

Or so it would seem.

It started when he heard a gentle hiss in the background, like a teapot starting to boil. Then came the distinct smell of sulfur, saturating the air around him. His heart started to race - he knew what was coming next. But before he could command his feet to move, the trap sprang, sending a jet of blue flame up from underneath his feet. He braced himself with his protective runes, hoping to hold off the worst the flames could offer...

And... succeeded?

His arms braced in front of his face, he stood on one knee, his face contorted in concentration. His runes strained against the force of the spell but held fast, the hungry flames enveloping his body. 'Well, that wasn't too bad. A decent trap, Marks, but you'll have to do better than that.' He slowly rose to his feet and made a motion to leave the flames.

And then the clatter of chains broke out.

Still distracted by maintaining his runes against the onslaught of magical fire, Aidan was caught completely off-guard. Seeming to arrive from the air itself, they wrapped around his arms and legs and anchored themselves against the wall. As they finished, they tightened their grip and started to give an electric hum. A powerful current shot through his body, winding Aidan and knocking him off his feet.

'Shit. SHIT.' The chains were clearly magical in nature, glowing with a pale blue light and crackling with electricity. They had him completely grappled, locking him inside the still-roaring flames. If he tried to use his runes to escape their grasp, the fire at his feet would no doubt consume him. It seemed Marks had anticipated people would try to shield themselves against traps in a break-in - The chains forced the poor bastard to choose between trying to escape and not being cooked alive.

'Clever bastard, I'll give him that.'

---------------------------------------

Clay continued along the road down towards Shinto. He withdrew a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it with a snap of his fingers, drawing in a deep breath and savoring the taste. He didn't normally smoke all that much, but he was in a particularly good mood at the moment - Diana's breakthrough couldn't have come at a better time. A celebratory smoke seemed to be in order.

As he took a second draft, however, he felt a ringing in the back of his mind. He froze in place - he knew exactly what that sensation meant, though he hoped he'd never need to put it to use. The manor's prana detectors had gone off, meaning a magus not of the Marks lineage had used a spell near the premises. He promptly turned around and broke into a sprint in the opposite direction, back towards the Marks manor. Reaching into his coat pocket as he did so, he quickly dialed Rider's number and pressed the phone to his ear. ?Rider, drop whatever you're doing and return to the manor IMMEDIATELY. An intruder has breached the premises.?

 

[Ruedyn]

Aidan barely had time to note the change in situation from free to getting set on fire. His fire fist rune went offline, overcharged to quickly by the jet of flames, his hand quickly melting away in the additional fire, as it crept its' way up his legs, burning the bandages the runes were on, the ink simply bubbling up, glowing slightly as they evaporated.

It hurt more than anything else he'd felt in his life, though he felt almost nothing before passing out from smoke inhalation. No last quippy thoughts, like he thought he might get, simply blind, unimaginable pain from all directions, followed by melted nerve endings and passing out.

The flames died down and disappeared before going away completely, the chains disappearing after sensing no more prana use, leaving a burned husk, barely alive, breathing haggardly in the corner of the room.

 

[drmigit2]

16:00

Assassin was bored. Good god was he bored. This "job" as it was called was terrible. He wandered from house to house delivering pizza he wasn't even allowed to eat! The once robed figure, now in a pizza uniform with a blue hat used a quarter he found on the floor of the store to activate a pay phone. Before the whole competition had started, Mordecai had given him his phone number, now was as good a time as any to call. "Hey, anything going on? Your brother Aiden is what? Yeah...yeah alright...you want me to follow-okay."


From what he had gathered, Aiden was headed toward the bridge right now from the hotel. This gave Assassin plenty of time as walking distance from his current hotel to the bridge would take at least an hour. Considering what Aiden seemed to be doing, it might take him even longer if the boy was avoiding people. Either way, if Aiden did something stupid, Assassin needed a way to make the best of the situation.

Construction workers in Fyuki don't use dynamite. That old explosive was outdated and everyone now used gel explosives. Harmless until gasoline was added, after that, they become sensitive to heat and impact. Assassin was going to rely on this.

Thanks to the wonderful acting of Saber and his master, a construction company was now destroying what remained of the now critical bridge to replace it with something more modern. Assassin rushed over to the bridge at his maximum speed and activated his guise. There wasn't time to change.

When he arrived, the construction area was busy as can be. People were moving things left and right and back left again. Rubble was being broken into smaller pieces and moved out, that was the main reason for the explosives. They had crates of the stuff just laying out in the open and quite honestly, Assassin was disappointed by the lack of challenge. He quietly took two crates of the explosive gel packets and lept off, nobody even noticed that they were gone.

With that, the masked killer rushed to his car. He had about a half hour now before Aiden would reach one of the off bridges. He put the explosives in the truck and ran over to the nearest gas station. Normally, Assassin had small amounts of cash on him, enough to gather rudimentary materials, but gas was pretty expensive now and he needed a lot of it. He gathered a few cans and filled them up. "Sorry Mord, gotta use your card again." He quickly swiped it and rushed out. Fifteen minutes.

Moving through Fyuuki traffic was horrible. Miyamocha was filled with nothing but bystanders and people trying to go through one person bridges into Shinto. He almost let Aiden escape, but allowed his car to slip into the crowd as he followed his master's brother.

18:00

Aiden had made a move over to the Marks's manor. At least, that was what Assassin figured considering his movement patterns. Indeed, the house had reportedly upped security. Assassin was able to confirm this when he made his own screening of the area, learning the location of all the traps Aiden would probably go near. It would be stupid to go in directly from the front, but the back certainly had more traps. None impressed Assassin, they were all low to mid level with a few guarding some doors that could pose a challenge to someone who wasn't Assassin.

This place had to go. Assassin planned to use the explosives as a distraction in case Aiden got in trouble, but now it seemed they would serve their original purpose. He smiled and quickly phased out.

On a nearby hill, Assassin set up his explosives, priming them with gasoline and he carefully moved them to where he needed them. Another crate primed was stuffed in the trunk, it had a small receptor put on it. The crates had like twenty of these, only one was going to be used. Just as expected, Aiden showed up, wrapped up like a mummy in runes.

"Amature." Assassin said, having recently gone through the entire manor's back end scouting out every single trap. "He is going to so get caught." Assassin knew a secret though, Aiden's death wouldn't matter. He then saw it, the bastard had got himself caught in the chain trap. "Why do they always get caught by that one?" He shrugged and figured that whoever owns this place would be home soon.

Assassin smiled and grabbed the first gel pack, he was tempted to play with it a bit but the risk simply wasn't worth it. He threw the bag as hard as he could at the manor, then without thinking he ran to the next bag and did the same until all twenty had been tossed. It was a graceful ordeal, he jumped and landed directly where he needed to, throwing without looking. Aiden would probably be dead soon, but it didn't matter. After thirty seconds, Assassin tossed the last explosive and began moving to a hill.

 

[CJ1145]

In a dark, quiet corner of Shinto, one house laid nearly dormant. From the outside, only a faint orange warmth emanating from a second story window hinted that anyone was inside. Following through the window led o the study, a stifling and confined space surrounded by books. Every inch of wall but the door's frame was taken by mahogany shelves, stocked with tomes dating back decades, centuries, millenia. The floor was plush, shaggy green carpeting providing a warm contrast to the stark nature of the knowledge resting upon its long tufts. A single table, made of unpolished oak sat in the center of the room. It was a squat, ugly thing that could bear no scrutiny. Warped and crooked from years of abuse, the thing had no business even standing intact. Yet it was sturdier than even the finest work a master carpenter could create. A stubborn old thing that refused to die.

Half a dozen tomes were laid bare on the table, their pages crinkled and glowing with an orange hue in the candlelight. A single man sat at the crude table, feverishly poring over the books. Shinosuke's eyes darted from page to page, a trembling hand darting to a page every few moments to turn it. He muttered as he read, a deathly whisper carrying the words of old magecraft through the air. His eyes were beginning to blur, strained in the low light, but there was nothing to be done for it. To stop, even for a moment, even to seek a manner of improving his progress? Unthinkable.

"No, too risky. Flashy, attracts bystanders. Not that either. Don't have access to a forge. Need something simple. Basics, fundamentals, building blocks."

A gentle rapping at the door went unanswered. A single louder knock made the door shudder, but Shinosuke still failed to respond. The knob turned, and the door creaked open. Its noise was muffled by the shag carpet. Mira peered in at the disturbing scene, cupping a candlestick of her own in her hands, and cradling a bowl of soup in her arm. She shuffled in, scooting the door closed with her foot and walked behind her husband. She leaned over him, Shinosuke only becoming aware of her presence when a lock of her hair swept in front of his face. His frantic pace chugged down to nothing. He reached up, brushing her hair away and looking up at her. Only a dull surprise registered.

"Hey, bookworm." Her face stretched into a dimpled grin as she set the soup down in Shino's lap. "Don't think you're going a little overboard?"

"No such thing as overboard," he told her, just a tinge of embarrassment at her teasing. "not now anyway."

Mira shuffled down to her knees. The left knee in particular sent waves of pain up her leg. The pain was new, partially. It had been there for years, but not quite so intense. She wasn't quite sure whether to blame it on the weather or age, but silently prayed for the former. She turned her attention to the books sprawled out on the gonk-table, picking up the one closest and flipping through it. "Magecraft. Old magecraft. Any particular reason?"

"Fundamentals," Shinosuke explained. "I haven't fought another magus in... god, I'm not sure I even want to remember." He shook his head, tenderly massaging the right temple with three fingers. "I have my expertise, but it's not exactly combat. If I want to be of any use, I'm going to need to brush up on the basics. Understand the core concepts of magecraft, and understanding its branching pathways becomes that much easier."

"Smart," Mira noted proudly. "But what good will that do when you're too zonked to count your own fingers?"

Her husband grumbled aimlessly, shaking a flopping arm at her. "Not sleepy. Just frustrated. Old magi were a bunch of cryptic old bastards, you know that? Half of these are written in code. The others are just plain-old vague."

"And you think you can crack them?"

Shino scoffed, and his dry lips flashed the smile she became infatuated with all those years ago. "Gimme a little credit, dear. There's not a lock I can't crack... metaphorical or otherwise."

Mira sighed in mock defeat, tutting as she pulled herself up to her feet. "Well, I suppose you've earned a little benefit of the doubt. Still, like hell I'm leaving you to your own insomniac devices. Wait here while I grab some coffee for us, I'll help--wait."

Her eyes zeroed in on an anomaly. Under the flipped cover of a book, trying its best to look inconspicuous on the table, was a simple box. Chocolate-brown wood gilded in silver with a leaf pattern, and a single keyhole on its top. Not to mention the hundred other enchantments and traps, significantly less visible to the naked eye. Her eyebrow rose, and a confused smirk stretched her lips. "You never take that box out. Sudden case of nostalgia?"

Shinosuke bowed his head, shame and intense apology written on his worried features. "I'm sorry, I was going to wait until you were asleep... I've been thinking, and I've decided that if I'm going to be of any use, I need to learn everything there is to know about Dirk's opponents. And..."

Mira's face changed, becoming a little sullen. "And you think the best way to find out, is to go to the Association."

"...Yes."

"Are you sure that's the right thing to do?" Mira asked. There was no judgment in her voice, only concern. "After what they did, I don't think anyone can blame you for holding a grudge."

"It's not about grudges anymore, Mira. My own petty feuds are what got Dirk into this mess. But this way..." He picked up the little lockbox, holding it in his hands, hefting the surprisingly large weight. His fingers caressed the groves and recesses of the aging wood, and traced along the outlines of the little silver leaves. Cold to the touch, but deceptively inviting. "I've got a bargaining chip. I can pay them back, for dragging my son into this feud. I can turn it into a boon, instead of another thing to run from."

He rose, and wrapped his arms tightly around his wife. He drew her close, holding her for a moment, a single illusion of strength. He was taller than his boy, and better built, but even he couldn't match up to Mira's astounding physique. His forehead was just high enough to rest against her shoulder as she wove her fingers through Shino's hair. He was grateful for these little moments. Reflecting on his life, he'd made a lot of mistakes. A lot of bad calls that came back to bite him or his family down the line. But not this one. He couldn't have dreamed of a better wife.

"Still want that coffee?" she cooed. Playful, but still a calculated reminder of what he needed to do next. She wasn't much like Dirk, Shinosuke reckoned, but by god, she wasn't stupid.

"Heh. Yeah, yeah... I think I'll need it after this."

[hr]

Click

"Mr. Orihara. I can't say this was... expected."

The voice at the end was flanged, disguised. But Shinosuke knew who it was by a lifetime of experience. The distortion was a mocking formality. Orihara was crouched on the roof of his home, knees pulled close to his torso. A cup of white chocolate mocha was clutched in his hand as he watched the stars--rather, what few could be seen this close to Shinto. His free hand idly held a cell phone close to his face.

"You know me and my surprises," he said dryly. "Have to keep you on your toes."

"Even so, I doubt you're calling this line to exchange pleasantries. You do know I could have this line easily traced, correct?"

Shinosuke smiled. "You seem to assume that I care."

"You don't? Certainly a marked change."

"It's not that surprising. There's just nothing left for you to take from me..."

"But?"

asked the voice on the other line. They seemed apprehensive. Shinosuke liked that. He was in control.

"But there's something you can still give me."

"What, pray tell, would we possibly give you, Mr. Orihara?"

Shino listed off demands, numbering them on his fingers purely for his own benefit. "I want everything the Association has on the participants of this Holy Grail War. Full dossiers: names, histories, psych profiles, known associates and family. Everything."

The other voice was silent, likely seething over the demands. Shino knew they would do something like that. He hadn't played his trump card yet. Best to sit on it a little while longer, work them up a bit. They were most impressionable at their emotional peaks.

"Certainly an [i]audacious[/i] list of demands, Mr. Orihara. Considering your past history with the Association, it's a little... let's call it 'ludicrous' to think we would supply you with such sensitive information. Even our highest agents are only privy to pieces of the knowledge."

A pause. Shinosuke waited. They were deducing the trick underneath his boast. Best to let them figure it out without input from him.

"But you're not one to make demands until you feel you've earned them... are you, Mr. Orihara? What exactly do you have, that could potentially make us reconsider your offer?"

"Oh, that's easy." Shinosuke hefted the precious little box in his hand. "I'd like you to think back a decade or two. Back to the winter of 1983. The city of Debrecen."

A cleverly disguised intake of breath came through from the other end of the line. But Shino caught it all the same.

"You don't mean... the Lazarus Incident was--"

"All me."

Shino felt a light chuckle puff through his chest. He'd never told anyone but Mira the full extent of what happened that bitter winter in Hungary. Crawling through dark, freezing catacombs. Desolate crypts unwelcome towards any but the dead. But the prize, in the end, had been worth it. It wasn't worth much to the average man, but to the Association, the sole remaining key to one of the strongest spirits to ever serve the once and future king was worth quite a lot. It felt invigorating to put it out into the open, to the one person who would most want him dead for it. To the one person who couldn't do a damned thing but kowtow to him now. Strained silence was all Shinosuke got from the other end, but it was over now. He just had to twist the knife a little further.

"Give me what I've demanded, and the Association can have it back."

"And what if we take it back by force?"

"Then I'll be dead. And if you believe there's a mage who can break my seals, you're welcome to put them to the test."

Don't be a blowhard, old pal. No one of the sort exists, and you know it.

"...We'll have someone out to you by tomorrow evening, with the dossiers. You'll be expected to make the switch at the location he designates for you."

"We do it in my home, or no deal."

"..."

"Fine then. No d--"

"Stop. We accept your terms, Mr. Orihara. We... look forward to doing business with you."

The person on the other end hung up. Shinosuke flipped his phone shut, an eager grin on his face. "Oh hell yeah, you do."

He stood up, basking in the chilly night air. The moon smiled down at him from above. Tonight was a night in his favor. He could feel it.

 

[Fishtie]

15:53

Sophie pushed herself up from her kneeling position in order to get a better look at her handy work. It had been a long time since she had last drawn a magic circle on a bathroom floor with lipstick, but that really meant she had to be more careful to make sure it was right. On the other hand, it did make clean up a magnitude easier afterward.

"[It really is convenient isn't it?]" She asked idly in German, "[A hotel that you pay for by the hour? I don't even know why they would have such a thing, but I guess I shouldn't complain.]" Sophie finished her inspection and nodded, content that the form was just as needed.

Berserker though did not seem so pleased. He stood outside the door with his arms crossed. "But why did you leave the other woman?" He asked bluntly, ignoring Sophie's focus.

The question made Sophie suddenly go very quiet, her face slightly down turned. "[It seemed like she was still busy shopping. I didn't want to interrupt.]" Her voice was suddenly flat, as though she didn't want to think too much about it.

Berserker shook his head at the obvious lie. "[We ready to fight. And she would probably have fought alongside us. Why leave her behind?]"

Sophie was silent for a long time. She traced the shape of the magic circle with her finger as though checking it again for any error. It was several minutes before she spoke again. "[I'm the one that made the challenge. I have to prove that I can do this on my own. If it doesn't work then I don't want to drag Maria down with me.]" Sophia's voice grew stronger as she spoke. "[If I'm really going to find another way, a better way, of doing this then I can't just throw it on someone else's shoulders. Do you understand? I have to start it. I have to.]"

Sophie's small speech caused him to smile down on her. For the first time since the war had begun the master was beginning to act like a real warrior, if not in action yet at least in spirit. "[I understand.]" He responded wryly "[It is your plan. So of course you go first.]"

"[Yes.]" Sophie said clenching a fist in anticipation. "[And first is that punk from earlier.]"

"[Indeed. This is to do with him then?]" Berseker indicated to the mystic circle.

"[Right.]" Sophie nodded. "[You can see it in his eyes, right? He thinks he's soooo smart.]" Sophie spat the words with a little more venom then she had intended. "[He tried to pull a fast one today, and I think he'll try it again. Well, forewarned is for-warded they say.]" With that Sophie dug into her pocket and pulled a fist sized chunk of dirt out of a surprisingly spacious jacket pocket. Sticking up from the dirt was a slightly battered, but still recognizable flower, it's peddles fallen away due to the winter chill. Sophie took a moment to breath in the scent of the dirt before she carefully set it in the center of the circle. Then reaching into other pockets she extracted other things carefully acquired from the park earlier in the day; a shaving of tree bark, a small chunk of masonry, a bottle of water from a fountain, a scrap of a long forgotten kite. Each of these also were placed in clearly prepared places around the circle.

Now with the settings prepared Sophie settled into a comfortable kneeling posture by the circle and began to breath in a deep rhythmic pattern. "[As above, so gos below.]" She began to chant in a measured way. "[By that gathered here, articles of elsewhere; elements of the whole and void within my self. Gaze upon these here and form the old bond of what they once were. Let this bond be a bridge that my eyes might travel and my mind understand. See the origin of these by my own sight."

With the chant completed Sophie felt the prana she had been building up flow out into the circle and take hold. She closed here eyes for a second and when she opened them again... Sophie wobbled slightly on her knees for a moment; the spell was always a little disorienting when it first took hold. Though Sophie's actual eyes just seemed a little unfocused as she seemed to stare at the bathroom wall, what she actually saw was the entirety of Miyamachou Park layed out before her as though she were a hawk watching over it. Then, with a thought she was instead soaring along one of the footpaths, taking a moment to watch a pair of lovers strolling by. Slowly, casually even, Sophie allowed her consciousness to coast over the park as she looked around it. Of course she wasn't expecting her opponent to be there just yet, but she had to be ready.

...

Sophie was beginning to develop a serious cramp in her legs as she continued to watch over the park in spirit. Most of the normal people had left and for a moment Sophie wondered if her opponent would show up at all. It was a possibility she had considered. It was then that she saw him! It was almost surprisingly easy to spot the boy from the cafe; not too many locals had that sandy shade of hair. Sophie watched as he and another man; almost assuredly the servant; went about their business, evidently without suspicion. "[Hmmm... interesting.]" She muttered "[How like a snake to dig holes.]"

After some time Sophie felt quite satisfied. Releasing the magic she blinked again and once again was staring at the off white walls of the hotel bathroom.

"[All right then. Time to go.]" She said and began to get up. However, she didn't get very far before her legs burned in protest and she fell over onto her side. "[My legs fell asleep.]" She offered sheepishly as Berseker gave her a hand up and held her hand as she massaged some feeling back into her legs. "[That... can happen sometimes.]"

Later, having explained to Berserker what to expect and removing the improvised circle, Sophie paid for the room (getting the strangest look from the attendant) and set out immediately for the showdown.

[hr]

18:06

Sophie strolled through the park towards where she knew the boy would be; though not without a touch of wandering, it would be bad if she let on what she knew. Berserker walked just behind her and to the left, his eyes scanning every place for his opponent. While Sophie's jacket was closed against the cold night air Berserker had done no such thing, leaving his chest completely bare as his bells rung out with every step.

After a bit Berserker stopped suddenly and brought his focus to bare. Sophie also did so seeing the young man from earlier that day though he now wore an incredibly suspicious long coat. Sophie smirked internally as she crossed her arms and called out.

"Since we never introduced ourselves before, I am Sophie Topfer, master of Berserker." She called in passable, if formal and amateurish Japanese. "Want to name yourself before I kick your but?"

 

[CJ1145]

"Want to name yourself before I kick your butt?"

Dirk watched quietly as Sophie and her Servant approached. The belled behemoth was a little shorter than he had expected, but her words confirmed what he'd already suspected. So you're the Master of Berserker, are you Miss Topfer? How fortunate. Didn't think I'd eliminate someone as dangerous as you on the second night.

His left leg, braced against the tree, kicked his body off. He took a step forward, lazily righting himself into an upright stance. His eyes were inscrutable behind his shades; they seemed nearly opaque.

"The name's Dirk Orihara, master of your fate." He grinned, just a little on the malicious side as he observed them. "And you, Miss Topfer, are even more childish than I'd imagined. 'Kick my butt'?"

He tried not to laugh too hard. His free hand came out from his pocket, and he jammed a finger into his ear, wiggling it around about before removing it. "I see you took my advice though," he noted. "Smart move ditching the hag. You were only living on borrowed time with her behind your back."

He leaned back against the tree, letting his head rest against the perfect little indent of bark that he'd found. It was freezing, but it held a little comfort in the chilly night. Like a pillow. A hard, wooden, chilly pillow. He examined his fingers lazily, checking the nails as he rambled. "Then again... maybe it wasn't so smart. You're at a marked disadvantage... not even sure you'd put up a fight, the way the deck's stacked. I prepared for two Masters and their Servants, not a child and her pet."

He pointed her way, glaring at her intently. The piercing gaze could be felt even through his opaque glasses.

"So I'm giving you one chance. Turn around and leave. If you do, I deign to let you live. You stay... and I can't make that promise."

 

[Glasgow]

Caster hated bondage. The old man was tied down by some unnamed, unknown, and terribly uncomfortable force to the sofa in the small living room of the apartment. He couldn't speak and he couldn't do a thing. To be more precise, he didn't want to do a thing. The situation was rather tense, but the old man wanted to see what the new figure had to offer.

Maria returned after spending some hours with the distraught Sophie, hoping she could bring her on her side. She opened the apartment door, oblivious to what awaited her inside.

"You're late". A voice greeted Maria as she came in.

Her surroundings started to shift into something foreign. A strange combination of sulfur, ash and salt assaulted her nostrils. The apartment started to shake, and suddenly the floor disappeared from under her feet, forcing her to fall down. The vertigo was too much for her to handle.

"You stole his remains". The voice continued. "You acted selfishly on your own and fled here with a servant, and you thought we wouldn't know?".

Maria felt as if she was about to throw up the lunch she ate together with Sophie. He head was spinning and she could barely keep up with what the figure was saying.

"Pass him onto me, let me represent the family. You could still leave this death match alive".
Caster eyed the two from his position on the sofa. Maria was down on her hands and knees, struggling to breath.

"WHO IS IT?", she managed to speak, and her voice echoed through the apartment.

"Hansen".

Maria gasped for air before she threw up on the floor of the apartment. She tried to stop herself from hyper-ventilating. "No", she answered as calmly as she could.

"I will make it worse for you, Maria". The figure snapped its fingers and heavy banging sounds at the most uncomfortable dissonance bombarded Maria's ears. She tried to keep herself over the puke covered floor with all of her remaining strength.

"Never".

Hansen frowned. He had to get the master's permission to take custody of Caster, or kill her. He couldn't bring himself to kill his own sister.

"The family want to have you killed. You can't win this Maria". He tried to convince her, but she couldn't hear him talk. Instead she heard unbearable screeching and ear-puncturing noises.

"Oh, shit", he mumbled before he snapped his fingers again and removed the noises from the illusion he forced upon Maria. "Just give me your servant and I will win this for us and the clan. Marcus dying was a surprise, but before the elders picked a replacement you were already off with a servant".

"Stop it Hans!". She pleaded her brother. The shadow couldn't bear watching his sister like that, but it had to be done. If he hadn't volunteered to go after her, they would have sent an assassin.

"Please let go, Sis". Hansen slowly decreased the intensity of the illusions as he was watching his sister squirm on the floor. "You have nothing to find here, just come back home. I will carry the burden for you and the family".

"Home?". Maria asked him curiously. "What's this home? A castle in the middle of nowhere, sleeping with dead bodies and decrepit magical servants? You all threw me to the dogs!". She shouted at her brother in agony.

"You can stay with us! The family won't mind. You can go and meet your nephews, and?".

"Where were you when he threw me out?". She screamed at him.

"Let me play for the clan, you can get hurt doing this-".

"I never played for the clan!", Maria exclaimed. She lost her balance and fell to her right. Hansen removed all of the illusions from Maria and rushed to help her up. He bent down on his knees and offered to help her. She pushed him away before forcing down another dose of vomit.

"I play for me ". She tried to catch her breath as her mind returned to the real world. "They betrayed me. I want my life back. I want my youth back. I decide my own fate, not the family and definitely not you!".

"Please, Maria, I can't go back empty handed."

"Why are you afraid of going back empty handed, Hansen? Are you afraid they will exile you to a castle? Afraid they will snatch you away from your wife and children and punish you? ".

"This is better than the TV". Caster commented as he watched the two siblings toss verbal insults at each other.

"I begged them to send me out and not someone else. They? they wanted to kill you."

"If I lose I will have nothing to live for. I will die either way". Maria's body was shaking from the experience earlier. She held on to the end of the sofa and pulled herself up to her feet.

"I? I'm sorry".

"Shut up and help me get the taste of vomit out of my mouth".

[hr]

Caster was wearing an apron and rubber gloves when he was doing his best in cleaning the mess Maria and Hansen left behind. They retired to Maria's room and left Caster to himself.

I don't want to know what that was? still, I wonder if I will get a new master . Caster wondered while cleaning the puke from the floor.

Hansen threw off his shadows and confronted Maria with his own appearance. He was younger than her by ten years. A small man in stature, but his frame was large and wide.

"What do you mean you want me to help you?". He asked Maria worryingly.

"I can't do this on my own, and I can't let you go". She pleaded for his help.

"They told me to take control of your servant and win this for the clan, not help you. I talked them out of killing you Maria, what am I supposed to do now?". Hansen was clearly upset. He couldn't press more against Maria without seriously hurting her, and he couldn't return empty handed.

"Help me with this. I still want to live, I still want to start a family".

"I? I don't know, Maria".

"Remember the river, Hansen. I am collecting your debt".

Her younger brother was speechless. He couldn't refuse his sister.

"Will you help me?". She asked him.

"Always".

[hr]

Plans have already been set into motion. Sophie would challenge the boy master in the park, and Maria had it all prepared. Several demons-spawn were already summoned and handed bags of deceit, then placed around the park in various locations. They looked like ordinary people, though they often had to keep their mouths shut. Then there were a few who received bags of prana, for when the time comes.

The dead were buried in the city. There were so many of them from a devastation years ago. They started gathering under the park under the orders of Caster, ready to snap up and return to the earth once more. At least, that was the impression given from the ready wave of summoned creatures gathered just beneath the surface of the park. To win... is to deceive.

Hansen wore his shadows to the show. He too became someone else, hiding in the background and waiting for the showdown to begin. Both Caster and Maria were together, overlooking the incident through the eyes of a demon who climbed up to the tallest building near the park. Maria was nervously smoking a cigarette when Caster approached her.

"The two masters meet. Should we engage?".

"Not yet. I want to see how the two move".

 

[Fishtie]

"So I'm giving you one chance. Turn around and leave. If you do, I deign to let you live. You stay... and I can't make that promise."

Sophie narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists a little tighter at Dirk's jibes. This was infuriating; not the boy, though he was too, but the language. Once again she felt that she had said the wrong thing because it was all she knew. Sure, a correspondence course in Japanese may not have been the best way to prepare, but it had been all she had time for and now she was constantly struggling for words she just couldn't find the meaning for.

Dirk of course was another issue. Sophie could not allow her anger to control her; that would be the worst thing to do. And yet, previously she had understood that she needed to defeat this master; now she wanted too.

The fact that his servant wasn't apparent was slightly troublesome, without defeating the spirit Dirk wouldn't truelly be eliminated. But on the other hand it already started to fit the pattern. If Sophie was right the servant would probably be waiting in ambush somewhere, just one more trap. Then again, a trap wasn't worth much if it wasn't secret. Sophie tried to not let her eyes wander to where she had witnessed Dirk digging; it would be best if he didn't know what she knew. Dirks coat on the other hand was a little more difficult; it was so obviously conspicuous on it's own but there was little telling exactly what he was hiding under it.

Then again, that only made speed more important. Dirk couldn't spring a trap if he didn't have time, and that itself gave Sophie and Berserker a kind of advantage.

Sophie shrugged and allowed a smug smile to graze her face. "I gave you the chance to surrender first. If you're done..." Sophie responded to Dirk then glanced over at Berserker. "Forget his toys." She said lazily though it was actually a hidden caution that she gave. "Bring him to me alive."

Berserker let a wide grin spread over his face. Finally; he had waited long enough; it was time. "With pleasure." He replied and then suddenly rushed at Dirk with blazing speed and arms outstretched.

 

[CJ1145]

"With pleasure."

Dirk's composure never faltered as Sophie and Berserker discussed what to do with him. It was as if they believed he was already their captive. His mind was ablaze with activity, considering the coming moment. His muscles tensed, invisible beneath the coat.

Backup nowhere in sight. Can't feel her friend, the hag, at all. That leaves just her and the big one. Berserker. Stout, muscled, appears to prefer his fists. Sanity appears intact... Good. He's weaker that way. Less predictable, but not so much less. Plans to take me prisoner. That would allow me to get close... No, not an option, likely to break bones in the process. Will have to dodge, leave the rest of it up to my backup. Hope he's ready...

His eyes were barely peeking out from over his opaque lenses, watching the pair talk. Berserker looked ready to move. His muscles were tensing and his legs were shifting, getting ready for an all-out sprint. Yeah, good. Keep telegraphing. You look just like Seiichi before he charges. Gotta time this just right...

Berserker's feet pushed into the ground, and took off like a cannonball. Dirk threw himself to the left, shouting.

"NOW!"


Saber materialized, clad in armor that had obviously seen use in countless battles, the only part still shining brightly a golden cross over his right breast. A helm obscured the face of the man within, but the light of his eyes could be felt boring into Sophie before turning his attention to the charging Berserker. He stood completely still until the man was within a length of his blade away from him, sidestepping and swinging his great blade at an upwards angle with impossible speed. There was no way to fully avoid the blow. To duck would only leave him open to any kick from the spiked boots of his foe. Jumping would do little more than displace where the sword would cleave.

Berserker's own momentum was the greatest weapon against him. No force could stop him in time. All that could save him now was deft maneuvering and luck.

Orihara's body slammed into the dirt, tumbling along the cold ground. It wasn't pleasant, but it was several orders of magnitude above being crushed by an oncoming locomotive of a man. The world spun around as he went head-under-heels and came up crouching. His eyes took in the battlefield, obscured as they were by darkness. Sophie was alone, her Servant clashing with his own. Heroic legends possessed by power beyond human reckoning? A challenge. One lone girl? He almost felt guilty. His left middle finger tugged as his hand pulled up, level with his eyes. The wire attached to it split off into seven more, in holes strategically placed around the clearing. Sophie was surrounded as flashbang grenades surfaced from shallow graves. Behind, to the sides, in front. Even one at her feet.

"Sophie," Dirk called. He wondered if his voice was loud enough. His earplugs shut out so much noise, he hadn't even heard the Servant rushing by him.

His index finger tugged back, and removed the arming pins. "I read lips."

Dirk averted his eyes. The sunglasses were strong, but he wasn't willing to stake the fight on their quality. The grenades went off, seven blinding flashes of white light. Seven simultaneous eruptions of noise, each checking in at 180 decibels. Blinding, deafening, and disorienting. Orihara rose to his feet, throwing out his right arm to his side and calling an aria. "Educe Arms!"

A flash of light glimmered between his fingers, fading and warping into recognizable form. A wakizashi, simple and efficient. The steel blade glinted in the moonlight as it slashed at Dirk's wires, freeing him from the encumbrance. His legs braced for an instant, and he took off at a run, closing the gap between he and the other magus as he prepared for a charging slash, right in the supple muscle between her shoulder and neck.

Come on, Topfer. You were talking all that big game a second ago. Don't you die on me that quickly!

 

[Glasgow]

-withdrawn-

 

[Ruedyn]

Mordecai put down his phone, he had forgotten that he even gave Brutus his phone number. Mordecai sighed,
'I need a car. And a license. Perhaps a helicopter? Need to talk to Brutus about this? ' Mordecai reached towards his rooms doorknob. He paused for a second, feeling a weird tingle in the back of his neck.
'Why does this feel like a trap?' Mordecai's hand paused, and he stood still. He even stopped breathing, holding his breath and staring at the door. Mordecai slowly, and silently took a step sideways, pulling the doorknob, and pushing the door open. An arrow whizzed by his shoulder, exactly where a man's torso would be, unless he was freakishly short.
"What the hell?!"
"Mordecai, correct?" Mordecai peeked around the corner, a southerner it sounded like in dress slacks, a black shirt, and a camo jacket stood before him, a scoped crossbow held out in front of him, and a sawtooth dagger in his hand, reverse gripped. The man had short hair, and looked of Japanese descent.
"Yeah, my name's Gerald, Gerald Honda."
"Yes, but more importantly, what-"
"Hold on." Gerald pulled his phone out of his pocket, and looked on the screen.
"Sorry, business. We've been checking your credit card history, a crap ton of pizzas were brought here." And with that, he pushed past Mordecai, practically jogging down the stairs.
"... I need new locks." Mordecai muttered to himself, thinking of traps he could set up, eyeing the half empty bottle of hotel water. A piece of paper told him that would cost $5. He simply sighed in frustration.
__________________________________________________________________________
Gerald hopped into his rented car, some silver Toyota, deleting the message sent by the Mages Association.
"Alright then, park, in the bathrooms." He put the phone back in his pocket, pulling his keys out and starting his car. The drive was short, 501 meters he reckoned. Convenient. He got out, whistling, 'Nothing yet...' He smiled, walking to the bathroom. He strolled into the males, finding a folder in the worst possible stall it could?ve been. There was even a phone number, for a person offering a good time. He?d trust it more if it wasn?t written in what looked like feces. Gerald made his way back to the car, and Looked in the folder. It was a strange mix of several letters, including crylic, spanish, japanese, and english.He sighed, uncomprehending of the message, and began heading to the next destination, Shinosuke Orihara?s home.
__________________________________________________________________________
"Break-in at the armory... Fuyuki Bridge demolished... Unconfirmed reports of nighttime street racers..."

Shinosuke Orihara slowly sifted through the day's paper in the dim light of his study. Not yet seventy-two hours into the war, and Fuyuki was already beginning to feel the hurt. He'd moved to the city a little under a decade ago with his wife and young son. Mere weeks after the end of the previous Holy Grail War. He'd run out of places to hide in Europe. A trip back to native Japan seemed perfect. To hide right under the Association's nose, in the battleground of one of their most sacred traditions. It had all seemed so perfect until just about six months ago. The day when the phone rang, and a blood red mark etched itself onto the hand of his boy. Shinosuke had been backed into a corner, and now he had no choice but to watch as his only child fought against forces beyond his reckoning.

A knock came at the front door, downstairs. Three quiet raps. Shinosuke folded up the paper and set it down, pushing himself away from the table. He may have been outwitted once, but he wasn't going to let his son fight this war alone. It was high time the playing field leveled out.

He moved downstairs, pulling on a periwinkle robe over his nightclothes. He reached the door, opening it quietly.

"Evening."
Gerald stood, motionless. There was no pretense of friendliness in his stance or eyes, simply the cold stare of a man waiting to do business. The man stood in surly silence for what felt like hours, before finally speaking up, in his gruff, slightly accented voice.

"It's cold, mind if I come in?"

He raised his hand, slowly, revealing the dossier. A slim, manila folder, like any other you?d find. Gerald didn?t know of the contents, didn?t need to, all he knew was that he was called off his mini-vacation for it. His other hand gripped his dagger, bloodlessly.
Shinosuke paused for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing into his home. "Come in." Gerald smiling, dispersing his dagger.
'This may not even end in blood...'

The two stepped into the living room, where Mira waited. Shino nodded to her, and directed her upstairs. She left in a hurry, leaving the pair alone in the living room. Shino directed the representative to the Association, whom was glancing about the room, soaking in as much information as he could, to sit on the recently reupholstered couch, and took a seat himself in an armchair opposite the sofa. He folded his hands, quietly waiting.

"She'll be just a moment."

Orihara examined the man in his home carefully. He seemed oddly stoic, even by the Association's standards. His eyes were cold, like those of a killer. Shino wasn't prepared to say this wasn't a setup.

He quietly nodded at the manila folder. "Is that all of it?"

"I?ve no idea. You?ll have to see." Gerald threw the dossiers to him, and spoke.

"I was called out of bed for this. I know as much as you right now, maybe less. The code is pretty heavy-duty anyways? I like your home." Gerald leaned back, spreading his arms out on the couch, crossing his legs, and staring at Shniosuke as he opened the folder.
His fingers rested on the paper as he examined the first page. They began tapping out a slow, even rhythm as he examined a trio of photos attached to the document. Clay Marks, and his two sisters: Maria and Diane. The photos were a touch grainy, likely several years out of date. He lifted up the photos, his eyes scrolling across a long list of information about the family. He turned to the next page, eager to determine that all the information was present before diving into it. Sophie Topfer, Maria Schmidt (whose image was oddly absent), Warren Fraga, Ilene von Einzbern... and Dirk Orihara. Shinosuke nodded, closing the folder and setting it on the coffee table between the two men. He cursed silently. Doesn't look like nearly as much as I'd hoped... but it's a start. As far as they're concerned, I don't exist.

"It checks out."

Gerald raised an eyebrow, but remained silent, watching his prey.

Maria re-entered the room, holding in her hands the ornate little box that Shinosuke had left in the study. She passed it to Gerald and left the room again.

"Check it, if you'd like. I removed the charms your teams wouldn't be able to. I imagine your superiors wish to know they haven't been duped." Gerald nodded, opening it slowly, wary of traps. The old man didn't look the sort, though they didn't have a particular sort. Resting on a bed of green velvet was a silver wring, wrapped in creeping vines of ruby red. Oddly primordial, and elegant all the same.

"Is that really what all this was about?" Gerald slammed it shut, shoving it underneath his armpit.

"There's not a damn thing I get about this war."
'Aidan can speak for his own damn self.'

"You don't have to get it." Shinosuke rested his chin on his left hand, quietly watching the astounded man. "You've got what you were sent for. Just leave Fuyuki and bring that back to your masters. Your role in this war will be complete, and you'll never have to see this city again."

Orihara stood, carefully slipping the folder underneath his arm, and gestured to the door. "If there's nothing else, I believe we're done here." Gerald rubbed his temples, stealing subtle glances at the man?s hands. Nothing.

"I'll be damned glad to. This damn town has gone to hell already, with no signs of it ending soon." Gerald got up, walking toward the door. He stopped, and turned around, opening his mouth to say something. Nothing came to him, and he left, in silence.

 

[Fishtie]

As Saber appeared before Berserker one might expect him to try and slow down, to falter, but instead he almost seemed to speed up just a little his grin growing even wider. This was it, his real opponent was now before him, now was the time to earn some glory. It had been just as Sophie had said; Target the master to draw out the servant.

Berserker made little effort to change his movement much, Sabers stroke was nearly impossible to dodge; but it was also heavy, prepared, easy to predict. Instead Berserker suddenly drew his pair of fighting daggers in a single clean motion. One of the blades he swung sideways; Berserker couldn't block the strike either, but he could deflect it enough to the side to slip by... Leaving Saber vulnerable as the other blade snaked right for a gap in his armor under the arm.

Meanwhile Sophie wasn't panicking either. The moment she had seen Dirk pull at the strings she knew were there she immediately sprang into action. Seven times Sophie stomped her foot on the ground in a staccato tempo each time releasing a small burst of prana into the earth aimed at each of the hidden grenades. It didn't take much of a spell to shift the dirt around each of the flash bangs, covering each one with a compacted layer of soil blocking the bright flashes of light and dulling their noises to mere dull thuds.

It hadn't been on a whim that Sophie had chosen the park as her battlefield. The earth moving spells that Sophie had used all her life wouldn't be any use on the paved roads and sidewalks of the city, but here...

"Read this." Sophie intoned as she turned to face the charging Dirk. Without the expected light, the sunglasses would only be a great hinder now in the night and Sophie wasn't going to let him recover. Stomping one more time she sent another small shiver of magic at the ground under Dirk's feet, not enough to do any real harm, but a minor tremor enough to unbalance anyone dumb enough to run in it.