Fate/Ichorum || フェイト / イコラム - IC

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Sasebo - Nameless alley

The atmosphere of the situation, if only for a brief moment, seemed to play tricks on Harry's perception. He might have supposed in the briefest second that the two eerie children returned his query with a sinister smile, but in the darkness, he could not be so sure. A flick of the eyelids showed they were just as expressionless beneath their hoods as before.

The two silent figures made no motion towards Harry, revealed no grisly daggers, and said no worrisome words. Their presence stood only to rattle his conscience it seemed. Still, they seemed certainly inclined to stop his exiting, were he to become fed up with waiting around to be stabbed by tiny people. A step forward, a flick of the wrist, a further threat... nothing stifled their inclination to appear worrisome. Not a flinch escaped their bodies.

Silence prevailed until Harry made out a distinct sound nearby. A dripping, too heavy to be mere water from the roofs around him. It fell with a more distinct splat. Another drop, and instead of hearing it, Harry instead felt it. Something had dripped on his shoulder, and upon examination, found a clear stain of blood upon his fine suit. Unlike in the movies, it took Harry no time at all to understand the danger.

Not a second too soon, Harry dashed out of the way of an amorphous thing slamming into the concrete where he once stood. Blood splattered outwards as it impacted solid ground, like a waterfall of ichor being dumped from a bucket on high. The liquid began to retract, as if reversing in time and reforming to a serpentine, blunt-headed entity. A deathly moan escaped the thing's closed maw, blood dripping from the entire length of its body.

The first thing that came to mind was that he was facing a familiar, though one made purely of blood was novel to him. It seemed almost characteristic of a Dead Apostle, or even an Ancestor. Whatever the origin, he was sandwiched by two figures of unknown skill and ability, and a clearly voracious and violent familiar.
 
With the children at one end of the alley and this thing at the other, Harry made some snap decisions.

First, getting some space.

The runes on his legs burned, the writing itself taking on a glow that showed through his slacks. He leaped high into the air, higher than any human ever could. It was enough to get him to the fifth-story fire escape of the building to his side, enough to buy him time to draw his handgun and open fire on the gory familiar below. Each shot landed true, splatting ichor across the street, but serving onto the enrage the creature further. It roared and snapped its maw it him. Its serpentine neck extended toward him like a snake, bringing its toothy jaws forward.

Harry leaped off the fire escape just as the fanged maw rent the metal fire escape asunder. He crossed the gap of the alley and landed on the fourth-story escape of the opposite building. With the ease and speed of long practice, he ejected the spent clip and slammed fresh one home. He fired again and again, tagging the beast in its blunt head. The maws came forward again, but Harry timed his shots so the force of them knocked the head off trajectory. Instead of mauling him, those teeth tore into the wall next to him.

He took the opportunity presented to him and hopped onto that long, blood-slickened neck. His shoes squished and sank into the meaty flesh, the sensation reminiscent of old, rotting beef. He slid onto his rump, heedless of the ichor staining his suit, and slid down the neck to gain foothold on the familiar's massive body. He fired again and again at the creature's many tendrils and especially its head, keeping it busy even if he wasn't truly injuring it.

After all, he needed time, not blood.

He flipped out his folding knife and stabbed into the fleshy body beneath his feet. He carved quickly and confidently, each stroke intended to finish the short runic sentence he cut into the familiar. He just barely managed to touch the runes with his hand when a tendril slapped him aside. His merely-human body would have shattered against the brick side of a building had his rune-empowered arm not grabbed hold of the tentacle. His superhumanly-strong grip, enhanced by the magic of his runic tattoos, allowed him to flow with the tendril.

He let got as soon as the magic of the runic sentence activated.

The ensuing explosion blew out a sizeable chunk from the creature's side. Its tendrils reflexively curled back in to protect itself. Already, it began to regenerate from even that grievous wound. Harry dropped to the street, unharmed, as his empowered legs absorbed the fall. Small impact craters formed under his feet.

But now he was behind the monster and the children, with the alley open behind him.

It was time to prove that discretion was the better part of valor.

Again, he leaped into the air, bounding from fire escape to fire escape, taking to the rooftops and making his escape.

Was that thing working for those kids? he wondered. Or is it something else, perhaps another Master's familiar? It certainly didn't look like any Servant I've ever heard of....

The wind sailed through his hair as he leaped from roof to roof before finally returning to the streets, passing by a cafe.

What a disaster! I had to go all-out just to survive that thing. No subtlety at all. At least no civilians were around to see this. If this is indeed the first blow of the Grail War...then with any luck, this might just draw out the others.
 
"Well, that's good." Tristan laughed in response to Sylvia saying she wouldn't judge him for the cake, which he quickly ordered afterwards. Glancing over to Agamede when Sylvia questioned their reasons for participating, he decided to let her answer as his cake arrived. He wasted no time in eating it as Lancer spoke, silently agreeing with everything she said. While he could use the Grail to seek his own form of justice, he would rather do it himself. The more he thought about it, the less comfortable he felt using some magic wish-granter. He smiled in response to Agamede's statement about him being worth protecting, a low chuckle escaping him.

"That's our stance on the matter, pretty much. What I want, I can achieve without the use of the Grail so it's pretty much useless to me. I had been thinking about ways to drop out of the 'competition', but I considered Lancer's point of someone without the best of intentions getting the Grail. So our reason is to literally make sure some jackass doesn't get the Grail." Tristan reaffirmed bluntly, leaning back in his seat as his arms folded. Neither Sylvia nor Saber were giving him any bad vibes and that was enough for him. Tristan was someone that generally relied on his own intuition when choosing to trust others, and so far it hadn't done him wrong.

"But, what about you? What're you doing this for?" He inquired, though his attention was drawn to the noise in the distance. Were those gunshots? Eyebrows furrowing, he looked between the others until he heard the faint sound of an explosion. Standing abruptly, Tristan looked between everyone present as a man ran past a cafe, coming from the direction of the disturbance. Was this it? Was this how it started? "That guy was totally one of us, wasn't he?" Tristan asked to no one in particular, his eyes following the man.

"What are the chances of whoever is after him noticing us?" He inquired, his eyes drifting to Agamede. Her armor. Of course they'd notice them. "We should leave, I don't want to rope any bystanders into this."
 
Looking up to the other two in sync with Tristan as he asked Sylvia that crucial 'question', Agamede, too, was curious about their intentions. What wish would a seemingly pure-hearted Saber and their master go for? Did they, too, share the same intentions? Would they even need to fi-

*BANG!*

It had been extremely distant; extremely quiet, but the threatening sound was all it took for the Lancer to suddenly whoosh into action. A very subtle burst of air seemed to whoosh in the small café room as Agamede 'appeared' at the side of Tristan, her brow furrowed and her poise readied for any sort of surprise attack. Her body was positioned to mirror the angle the gunshot came from, the risk of a 'sniper attack' being too great.

...

No impact.

Even if the gunshots weren't directed at her Master, it still wasn't natural for such weaponry to be fired in this seemingly peaceful little seaside town. Modern humans could be aggressive, and as far as she knew, acquiring these terrifying 'firearms' weren't as hard as one might've thought. But still, something was still off. More and more gunshots were being fired, over and over again.
"There's trouble. Master, stay at my side," her voice instructed, her gentle yet friendly tone shifting into one that was strong and bold. She spared a look for the other duo, nodding at them. "You should ready yourselves, as well. ...I... I am going to assume we can trust you... so, if this night should turn sinister, consider me your ally, your shield, and your golden ray. Whether we're technically 'enemies' or not, I..." she looked to Tristan for a moment, "if my Master allows it, I would like to protect you both, as well."

As she finished her sentence, her eyes twitched a little as she felt something on her top lip. ...Milk? A milk moustache? Had she really drunk that fast? Licking it off and hoping nobody noticed, Lancer hurriedly turned her head back to the window. Thankfully, it seemed none of the staff of the café were around to see her 'strange actions' for now. Squinting out the window, all seemed relatively quiet for a moment, before a man was visible darting down the streets, clearly in a hurry, which caused Tristan to comment on something.

"The man who's running? Yeah..." Lancer backchanneled, "Whilst... whilst it's not guaranteed he's 'one of us', his actions make it very likely. He was covered in some sort of... strange 'substance'. It looked like blood, but it had some sort of rotten tincture to it..." Lancer observed, her body still carefully positioned to protect her Master's. What had that man been running from? Or... was there a possibility he was 'pursuing' something? It was certainly worth investigating, whatever it was.

"Erm..." Lancer bit her lip a little, looking down at the floor and shrugging her armoured shoulders as Tristan pondered whether the fleeing man's pursuer could notice them. "I'm very sorry, I should've had the insight to get changed into something else... but, we'll have to make do. If my attire causes us to be engaged by an enemy, I'll do my best to see us home safe..." she played with her hands for a moment, before her golden eyes sparked a little with thought as she further observed the fleeing individual.

Perhaps that foul scent she'd picked up in the air hadn't been just her mind, after all.

"Getting civilians involved wouldn't be my will, either... but, if that man was running from something..." Lancer tilted her head upwards slightly, her fist gently clenching as it pressed against the window. "It may come for us next, and the path it'll take could get innocent people involved. It's up to you, Ma-" she corrected herself, "-Tristan. But I think we should help that fleeing man, not just out of good will, but to lead whatever is 'chasing' him to an area with no civilians at all."

Unclenching her fist, Lancer seemed ready for action, before she widened her eyes a little in realization, giving a half-joking statement.
"Oh, um... don't forget to leave money for our foodstuffs, disaster or not. It would be on my consciousness forever, to have such fine food in my stomach that was unpaid for..." she turned her head to Sylvia and Saber, tilting it slightly, "Sylvia, Saber... if I may call both of you such, what are your thoughts on this? If you also think we should see if that fleeing man had a 'pursuer', and lead it somewhere where no civilian casualties or sightings occur, I think we'd be happy to cooperate with you on this. Or... do you perhaps propose something else?"
 
Sylvia smiled at the reasoning of the other pair, nodding as she sipped her tea. So their cause was wholly one of protection. That was admirable enough. Surely if a person with bad intentions were to obtain the Grail it would bring only pain. Lancer and Tristan's goal was one she agreed with... furthermore it meant they weren't necessarily enemies. After all, her own wish for the Grail wasn't destructive in the slightest. Perhaps, with some convincing, they could form an agreement. It seemed neither of them particularly 'needed' the Grail for anything. Sylvia pondered the possibilities only for a moment before her own question had been turned back on her.

With a deep breath, the magus looked up from her tea. "In a general sense, I guess you could say my wish is to mend this world." Immediately, she felt heat in her face at saying something so childish and idealistic. The auburn-haired woman shook her head. "Or, rather, to ease the suffering of the world... to save those who can't be saved... to soothe the conflicts of the world." She knew how her words must have sounded, but still. That was her wish, or at least the idea of it. "Of course, the scope of that depends on how 'omnipotent' the Grail really is. But even if it cannot work a true miracle, I intend to use it to help the suffering in whatever way I can."

She glanced again to Gawain. He was rather quiet thus far, but he seemed to accept that the others were decent people, at the very least. She wondered what he thought of her wish, whether he thought such a thing could be achieved.

All of a sudden she heard a familiar sound in the distance: a gunshot. Immediately, Sylvia's facial expression changed. She became uncomfortably calm, and seemed ready to move at any moment. To hear a gunshot in such a peaceful place, far removed from the war-torn lands she usually frequented, was a bit bizarre, but it instantly snapped her into a different state of mind. As more gunshots followed, she pulled the strap of her medicine bag back over her shoulder.

A man darted by the window at inhuman speed. Lancer and Tristan's observations seemed to match her own. That man was not ordinary, and his circumstance were even less so. The Servant across the table suggested a sort of alliance for the time being, and seemed intent to follow the stranger. "Yes. Whatever the situation, we cannot allow it to endanger innocent lives." Sylvia's voice was calm, but quick and efficient now, much different from her previous dreamy pleasantness. She looked from Lancer, then to her own Servant. "I agree. For the time being, it would be best for us to cooperate. I will aid the two of you as best I can..." She looked toward Gawain. "Saber, is that acceptable?"

Lancer's reminder to pay for their food almost caught Sylvia by surprise. She was used to sudden situations instantly taking priority over normal life. The magus pulled a few crumpled bills from her bag, placing them on the table. With one last sorrowful look at her half-eaten dinner, she rose from her seat.

"Whatever we do, we should do it quickly." She looked out at the street where the stranger had passed only moments before. For some reason, Sylvia felt an unfamiliar sense of dread within herself. This was not her first crisis situation, and yet she felt that something was... wrong.
 
It sounded just as lovely as when she first revealed her desire, didn't it? Pure, simple, and all-encompassing, a dream that encapsulated the entire world as opposed to simply those that she 'approved' of. Gawain took another sip of the dark brew, undisturbed by the multiple gunshots and ensuing explosion that sounded off in the distance. Magic mixed with technology, was it? While Lancer was immediately on her guard, the silver-haired knight remained calm. His eyes glanced over towards the rest of the patrons within the Nightshade Café, worried expressions on all of them.

A fight between two others within the Holy Grail, and they had no intention of hiding their conflict at all.

"Lancer, please, take a seat," he said, gesturing with his head towards the attention that the already strange quartet was attracting. A sliver of a sword appeared within his palm, still not completely manifested. That strange familiar had no moved at all during the entire affair, remaining still even as a magically empowered magician dashed by, covered in an ichorous substance reminiscent of blood.

"And Master, you too can remain where you are. It is rude to leave a dining table without finishing your meal. This is a scenario that will not require your intervention. The man wasn't injured." It was past midnight. He could only grow stronger from here. Gawain finished his coffee, enjoyed the warmth that permeated his spiritual body, and stood. "Master Tristan, I shall trust in your integrity as an honorable youth that you will not disgrace either your Servant or my Master in the absence of my presence."

A deep breath.


"That man was a Master, and no doubt, after such an encounter, his Servant shall be responding to his summons. Further pursuit will lead to conflict, which my Master does not desire. Thus, I shall slay the being that chases him, suppress the Servant he calls forth, and if he is one of good repute, I shall bring him to you."

The cup was set down.

"A healer's task begins only after the fighting ends, Master. Leave this battle to me. I swear upon my blade that none will be caught in the conflagarations of our conflict."
 
"...Huh?" Saber's sentence hung with her for a while as she tried to decode it. Looking from the direction of his gesture, to the comfy stylish chair, Lancer's eyes appeared somewhat hurt for a moment. Was she not... 'worthy' enough, to fight alongside somebody such as him? "Saber..." she began quietly, though her voice trailed off as the silver-haired knight continued to talk.

Perhaps his words and motives were born of good intention, but... for someone who had been willing to sacrifice everything on the battlefield, it was still somewhat of an insulting gesture. Didn't the Saber's Master feel the same way? Even if it was true that Masters should ensure their safety as much as possible, that was the job of the Servants. And it had already been established that this quartet, were willing to put aside the goal of the Grail for other causes, for the time being.

Golden eyes looking around, she bit the inside of her lip as she noticed the people outside.

The confused, clueless looks of the surrounding people watching that ichor-stained man run, gave a vision of a terrible beast later rampaging, ripping clueless individuals apart. She wouldn't stand for it. She wouldn't let even the 0.0001% chance of such an event happening become a reality. Golden eyes sparking with emotion for a moment as she took a step forward, she picked up almost instantly from where Saber left off.

"No." she spoke up simply. "Your honour and worry for others is applaudable, but 'overconfidence'... that holds little to no merit, and can be a danger in disguise. Do you really care about the state of the surrounding civilians? Then we should hit a threat with as much power as we have, to minimize potential deaths. We can still do so in secrecy." Lancer continued bluntly, the pulled-out chair and sixty-six percent consumed yogurt not even mildly tempting for her. "We have no idea of the strength of the pursuer - or pursuers - of that man even are. I can tell you're powerful, but I still won't ask for your permission to fight alongside you. My aid will benefit you, and perhaps many others, either way."

But in her heartspoken words, she forgot the reason why she could even speak up in the first place. The person who's choices really mattered. Looking to her Master, Lancer seemed raring to go and assist Saber, little particles of gold swirling around her gauntlet-clad hands, though she suppressed these feelings in the case Tristan decided otherwise.

"...But I will stay if you deem it best, Tristan." She quietly concluded. Though she'd follow orders obediently and without question, it was questionable if those words similarly came from the heart.
 
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The sound of concrete smashing apart made Harry stop in his tracks, turn, and frown darkly.

He had escaped to the street believing he had gained some distance from the tentacled horror.

Of fucking course, he groused internally.

Like a mad dog, it lumbered around the corner, smashing the edge of a building and sending brick and concrete crashing to the ground. This time of the day, there weren't as many civilians as there could have been -- a blessing in disguise, given the potential for casualties -- but there were still mundane eyes on the street. And this obviously abhorrent thing was rampaging through the city in the open.

Son of a bitch. So much for keeping this contained. What a disaster, he thought again. He ran up to a parked car, popped the fuel tank open, and shoved one of his homemade pipe bombs inside, lighting the wick with his lighter. Harry moved out of the way, keeping in sight of the creature to draw it closer to him, and smirked as it lumbered unthinkingly over the vehicle.

The resulting explosion -- and the shrapnel from the car's chassis -- did far more damage than any handgun ever could, shredding through its gore-covered flesh like a hundred large knives. Even more fortunate, the creature was large enough that its massive bulk took the entirety of the blast, preserving the bystanders and the nearby buildings from the explosion.

But it only continued to heal. At best, his trick slowed it down.

I need to get this thing off the street, Harry thought. He spied the entry to another alley next to a breakfast café and made his way toward it. Better than nothing....

His line of thinking was broken when a tentacle whipped across his chest, throwing him into -- and through! -- a parked van at the side of the street. Harry crashed into the wall of the café and slid in a broken pile to the sidewalk. Breathing suddenly became immensely painful. He was fairly certain he'd broken a few ribs from that attack.

By chance, he caught a glance through the cafe's window....

...and saw a woman in armor.

Servants? In the open? he thought in bafflement. Not that I can throw stones, all things considered.

He rolled away, just as a tentacle speared the space he had just vacated.

Need some room to maneuver. He caught sight of a fire hydrant at the edge of the sidewalk. Perfect. He tossed another pipe bomb, letting its explosion tear open the hydrant. The geyser of water that erupted was positioned perfectly under the monstrosity, spraying it with enough force to push it back.

Harry grunted as he forced himself back to his feet and took stock of what few weapons he had left on his person: a nearly-empty handgun, several empty clips, a roll of duct tape, and only one homemade explosive left. Not exactly a lot to work with. On the other hand, there were actual Servants only meters away from him.

What the hell -- subtlety's pretty much out the window already.

Harry darted into the café, looking quite haggard in his bloodied suit. He pointed to the ceiling with his handgun and discharged several shots, frightening most of the civilians in patronage. "All of you, out! Now! Back exit!" He fired again, immediately receiving compliance as the small breakfasting crowd of bystanders flooded to the back in a mass exodus.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Servants and their Masters were made of sterner stuff.

And, oddly enough, seemed to be sharing a meal.

Not exactly what I envisioned as the first conflict in this War, Harry mused. He addressed them, "I'm guessing you four are part of the Grail War -- especially the girl in armor." He jerked a thumb at the recovering monster beyond the window. "I'm Harry. Seems I've picked up a bad habit. Want to help me kick it?"
 
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Tristan had opted to remain silent as he mentally ran through all of the different ways the situation they were in could play out. He had no doubt that the man who was fleeing was a Master such as himself which had raised all sorts of questions. Helping him could prove fruitful, but at the same time it could even be some sort of trap. What if it had been a carefully orchestrated plan to draw out the participants of the war? It seemed unlikely but it wasn't a possibility Tristan was quick to dismiss.

Sylvia agreeing to assist them was pleasant, but he wasn't surprised when Saber spoke up. He did seem like the type who'd prefer to handle things himself or at his own speed. And frankly, it actually bothered Tristan. He wasn't one to let others fight his battles and he certainly wasn't going to let another master's servant sideline him. Yet before he could even speak up, Agamede voiced her own discontent.

"I agree with you, Lancer. We do this together to-" He was cut off, his train of thought completely being derailed when more sounds of violence cut through the air. Did this other master have absolutely no idea what the concept of 'subtle' even was? And in what felt like an instant the man barged into the cafe, firing his gun into the air to clear out the other patrons. Tristan had to admit, that was one way to get civilians out of the way, but that gave rise to the issue of police.

"Man, looks like you've found yourself in a 'hairy' situation." Tristan remarked with a chuckle, knowing just how awful his joke was. Even in times of turmoil, bad jokes were always welcome as far as the young master was concerned. He wasted no time reaching into the inner lining of his jacket, pulling his gloves out of a discreet pocket. Pulling them on, with a simple incantation he reinforced the gloves and his own body. "Sorry Saber, but looks like you don't get to handle things yourself just yet." He quipped.

"The name is Tristan and this is my servant Lancer." He introduced himself as he focused on the monster that was slowly ambling its way to the cafe. "Do you have any idea what the hell that thing is? Product of another servant or what? Speaking of... Where is your servant?" Tristan inquired, suddenly noticing Harry's lack of a companion. That set off all sorts of alarms in his head as he glanced over to Agamede.

"Keep your guard up." He spoke to her under his breath, his gaze flickering between Harry and the monster.
 
Berserker was bored and irritated.
Damn humans running around doing human things.
There was really only a single quiet spot anywhere, which bothered her. Even then, there was no guarantee that it was of any use.
｢Oi, Master.｣
No response.
Was he busy? What kind of Master didn't answer when she called? She'd never have had an issue like this with Xuanzang.

Well, she didn't have her cloud, but she could still turn into a bird or something, so it didn't really matter.
Berserker was a Berserker for a reason after all. She didn't really make plans.
So she just did whatever she felt like.
In this moment, she felt like praying.
So she prayed north.
She prayed east.
She prayed south.
She prayed west.
She prayed to the center, raising her head and firing her laser eyes up into the night sky, parting clouds and stars as she traced a line down the midnight.

It's probably fine, she reasoned as her form wrapped itself into a monkey-tailed swallow and flew over the water before plummeting down in the shape of a monkey-tailed carp.
 
Harry smirked to himself as he heard one of the Masters -- and, indeed, it seemed he was indeed one -- actually introduced himself and even identified his Servant's class for him.

Lancer and his Master.

Not a whole lot to go on, but enough for Harry to make some conclusions. One, this Tristan kid was either very open and trusting...or lacked experience on a battlefield. Either way, it was something Harry filed away for later, just in case he'd ever have to exploit it.

Lancer, however, warranted further attention. She was, undeniably, quite beautiful. Her hair seemed to change color before his eyes. The fact that she still had her armor meant she either didn't care about being out in the open as Servant, she was not in full control of her abilities, or (and this gave Harry pause) she was overwhelmingly powerful enough for it not to matter. Unfortunately, Harry didn't know anything about spearwomen with a penchant for hair that changed colors. It was, however, a starting point for research.

Harry eyeballed the other two. He had yet to determine which was the Servant in the pair, much less the Servant's class -- a gap in knowledge that Harry would have to rectify swiftly. As long as that pair's capabilities remained unknown, they held an advantage.

Harry's musings were cut short with Tristan's pun, "Man, looks like you've found yourself in a 'hairy' situation." Harry's eyes narrowed in mild annoyance. Puns, really? Then Tristan continued, "Sorry, Saber, but looks like you don't get to handle things yourself just yet."

And just like that, Harry's annoyance with Tristan evaporated like the morning dew in a desert.

A Lancer and a Saber.

Two of the three Knight classes, arrayed before him. That was going to be very problematic if they decided to attack him here and now, but judging by Lancer's grace and Saber's bearing, Harry was relatively confident that they were both the knight-in-shining-armor types.

In other words, they'd save the people around them before trying to win the War.

Again Tristan grabbed his attention. "Do you have any idea what the hell that thing is? Product of another Servant or what? Speaking of... Where is your servant?"

Harry saw him whisper something to his Servant, Lancer, but wasn't able to make it out. Probably a warning. At least the kid knew better than to be completely trusting. And he had good instincts -- the kid already noticed the Command Seals on his hand and identified him as a Master.

Harry took the opportunity to reload his handgun, inspecting the chamber and barrel with the ease and speed of long practice. "No idea," he answered honestly. "Its certainly not mine. That thing is probably a familiar of some kind -- the question is: who is its creator? And better yet -- where is he?" Or them, he thought, thinking of the two children.

He went on with a smirk at the four, "As far as my Servant is concerned...who says I'm alone?"

Let them believe I am with my Servant, he thought. There's no what I'd survive an assault from one Servant, let alone two. But if they thought my Servant capable of stealth, invisibility, or met the qualifications of the Assassin class....

Then he heard a voice telepathically cut in, Oi, Master?

Berserker.

A plan formed in his mind.

Servant, Harry mentally replied, Can you sense my location? Be careful, I am with Saber, Lancer, and their Masters. We are under attack by an enemy familiar.

You must help me, Berserker. Besides, this is looking to be quite the fight.

That would get her attention.

Fight to your heart's content, Berserker. But whatever you do, do not try to make contact with me. Saber and Lancer must believe you and I are on different teams.

A Berserker's greatest strength did not lie in their physical power, but in their nature as a wild card.

Right now, Harry Hawksguard had nothing in his hand.

But it was starting to look like deuces were wild....
 
More bangs, explosions, and sounds of conflict came as soon as Tristan's sentence had been cut off. Pressing her body even closer to him, defensively, as the threat seemed to escalate, it seemed Lancer truly had no protest of acting like a shield. Firearm in hand, the bloodied man suddenly whirled around and barged his way into the café, yelling as he fired shots of that terrifying modern weapon into the ceiling. And then, oddly, straight afterwards... he got straight to the point about introducing himself. And almost instantaneously, 'Harry' pointed her out.

Agamede's golden eyes remained affixed in a confused squint, her short frame still as a statue. She wanted to help the bloodied man, but... she honestly couldn't gauge if he was a danger or not.
"Well... I-I... wh-wha..." she began in flustered tone, unmoving from her stance in front of Tristan, not sure whether she was looking at a sane person. But as civilians screamed and ran for the back exit, out of harm's way, at the sound of Harry's gunshots, she began to slowly understand. As Tristan eventually gave a reply in return to this man she could only assume was another Master for certain, Lancer's posture seemed to relax a little, though she still seemed deeply concerned of what lay in wait outside.

"He...llo...?" Lancer said in somewhat of a confused monotone as she was introduced, her mind moreso on how to tackle the threat outside rather than making any sort of impression. Tristan proceeded to make an unexpected pun that was... really, really awful. "Goodness me... to make such jokes, at a time like this..." Lancer murmured with a shake of her head. Though admittedly, she was smiling a tiny bit at the terribleness of such a joke.

The mood was quickly swayed with something strange Harry had said. He... wasn't alone? Lancer looked somewhat confused at first, but she soon thought she understood. Whoever the companion of 'Harry' was, did he or she have the ability to conceal their presence? Even if Harry didn't seem intent on ordering his Servant to attack right now, the thought of an invisible 'foe' certainly didn't make her feel at ease. An assassin was truly an individual to be feared.

But should an assassin strike, Agamede trusted her ability to 'defend'.

As Tristan whispered in her ear, she shot him a look and a nod.
"I will," a brief smile, "Don't worry. I won't let a surprise attack get to you. No matter what."

She quickly snapped her head back to the oncoming threat.
"Whatever the case may be, there's little time to talk further. 'Harry'... I trust your hidden friend will assist us this battle? Lives could be at stake." Lancer's silvery strands of hair that were delicately tied into a side ponytail seemed to be growing in length slightly, flashes of gold coming from them as her emotions burned, though the change was only slightly noticeable. She didn't draw her weapon yet, though luminous streaks of yellow - like petals, caught in a gentle current - were flowing inbetween her fingers.

Little wisps of amber, cooling warmth were beginning to permeate from her body in very light amounts, though it was still enough to give the odd effect of the midnight air in the café suddenly feeling like the air of a sunny morning. The blood that coated Harry, even if the process seemed to be very slow, appeared to be slowly fading away in the sensation.
"We'll fight alongside you for now, Harry, as something that threatens the life of the unaffiliated is a common foe. For such a gruesome beast to exist... I won't allow it. I trust none of us shall." her tone seemed to rise in volume and pitch, as her mane of silver continued to slightly grow. Taking a step forward, she took a stance alongside her Master. "Stay close to me, Tristan. I'll act upon your guidance... and the 'golden breeze' will light our way."
 
Shrapnel, devastated vehicles, a spewing fire hydrant... Even the greatest luck would not have been enough to cover up what had occurred on that street. How many people living inside the apartments had already seen the bloodied creature? How many had called the police? How many firetrucks were already on their way? Grail or no Grail, enemy or ally, the three masters and two Servants lingering at the cafe would need to find some place to retreat to -and similarly draw the creature to- lest their troubles grow far larger.

The creature stumbled around the water spout with a grumble, water coating its body to wash away the unending layer of blood coating its body. Tendrils that were retracted began to slither outwards once more, wriggling as if in excitement. Each footstep was followed by a wet thud and a splat, leaving behind footprints of red that were quickly dissolved into the streets by the torrential waters. Its maw opened and closed rapidly, chittering faster and faster the closer it got. As it made its way onto the sidewalk, the creature suddenly gained a burst of speed, stampeding towards the already ruptured cafe wall. Head extended, it lunged its neck through the intact window straight for Agamede, no doubt enticed by the glimmering silver of her armor.

What none of them could expect was the twin bodies that dashed out from within the creature's gaping maw.

The two cloaked children Harry had encountered prior emerged from beneath the bloody layer within its mouth, each wielding a simple kitchen knife similarly extended to stab at the Lancer.
 
Sylvia was a bit taken aback by Gawain's declaration on the situation. It made perfect sense if she thought about it. To slay monsters, to triumph in battle, these were all part of a knight's duty. Surely his pride would reject the possibility of any assistance in such a matter, especially when he seemed quite confident that he could handle it himself. Still, that pride was currently hampering their reaction to the rapidly escalating catastrophe outside. Sylvia looked at Gawain with questioning eyes as he told her to return to her seat. At his final line, a flash of distaste crossed the magus' face. It seemed the knight misunderstood her position as a healer. For Sylvia, waiting until the end of a battle to begin her work was a waste of precious time, time in which lives could be lost.


As expected, Lancer disagreed with the knight's decision, a disagreement the magus couldn't help but sympathize with. Feeling the violent intent that seemed to be building within her own Servant, she couldn't help but feel nervous about conflict. Sylvia frowned. This wouldn't do.


"Saber, I can understand how you feel, but now is not the time to-"


An explosion outside rocked the cafe, followed by the hard impact of the stranger outside into the establishment's wall. Seconds later, the man himself had cleared the room, firing shots off into the ceiling. By that point Sylvia had lept from her seat. She backed away, placing herself behind Saber. A steely calm expression took over her face as she surveyed the situation.


The third Master introduced himself as Harry and requested their help in dealing with... whatever the beast that was chasing him was. Tristan, in this critical moment, had managed to insert a well-timed pun. For a split second, Sylvia found herself seriously questioning what sort of person she had agreed to cooperate with. The gravity of the situation, however, immediately severed that train of thought, leaving that particular concern to a later time. Regardless of Tristan's joking, it seemed he and Lancer intended to help in the situation. Good. Then they would as well. "My name is Sylvia. We will help as well."


Harry explained that he also had no insight into what the abomination was, but had surmised that it was some kind of familiar. Sylvia bit her lip. He was surely right, but what sort of person kept a familiar like that thing around. The third Master also implied that his Servant was present, or at least nearby. Sylvia felt a wave of tension grip her body. There was a particularly surreptitious class of Servant that could conceal itself, she had managed to glean that much information in her brief study of the Grail War, but if she remembered correctly, that class also relied heavily on sneak attacks. She threw a concerned glance to her Servant.


"Saber." She looked at Gawain with a nod. The intent was clear. They needed to be careful in this situation, of both their enemy and their new 'ally'. Still, it was in Sylvia's nature to help those in need, especially the injured, and Harry had almost certainly sustained some damage from his impact with the wall. She felt a pulse through her magic circuits, as if something frozen had suddenly thawed and come alive. "I swear to do no harm..." The words were scarcely more than a whisper. Just as she began, though, she noticed the warmth slowly radiating from Lancer, and the effect it seemed to be having on their somewhat questionable comrade's wounds. Sylvia's gaze swung toward Lancer and a small smile crossed her face. It seemed she wasn't the only healer present. Still, it seemed, in its current state, that Lancer's power was a more slow, gradual sort of healing. Sylvia clasped her hands, taking in a deep breath. The air felt frigid in her lungs, a harsh but familiar cold, like the winter of her homeland.



"Гимн сердца."


As she said the words, she felt her heart stop for a moment, and with its next beat release a pulse of magical energy. A ring like a soft chime echoed out from the woman's body, and she glowed with a delicate lavender light for an instant. In the next instant the glow had vanished and reappeared around Harry. The spell was not particularly powerful, but it was simple and required very little preparation. The transferred magical energy would set to work immediately, repairing any damaged soft tissue in a matter of seconds and staving off internal bleeding. Broken bones could not be pieced back together so easily, but should have at least been set back to their proper locations. The process itself could be described as a feeling of sudden chill quickly abating into a pleasant and ever-growing warmth.


Sylvia nodded toward Harry with a small smile. She still wasn't certain that trusting the man was the best idea, but she would help him regardless. Between herself and Lancer, their efforts could at least keep him in fighting shape. Mere moments after her spell had been completed, however, the sound of shattering glass ripped through the cafe as the monstrosity outside lunged forward. Sylvia's eyes widened as two figures emerged from the mouth of the beast, armed and poised to attack Lancer.


"Saber, help her!"


There was almost certainly no need to instruct the knight to do such a thing, but it was the only reaction Sylvia could construct in the moment. The woman took a few steps back from the battle, taking in another deep breath. "I swear to do no harm..." She began readying a second spell.
 
Amber wisps of light coiled around Harry; he felt his sore ribs mend as a refreshing coolness suffused his chest.

So...Lancer is a healer. The golden breeze.... the enforcer thought to himself, wracking his brain on legends and historic figures who could possibly fulfill the woman's identity.

Then Saber's Master, Sylvia, chanted, "I swear to do no harm...." and Harry sensed the mana coursing in the air from her. Lancer's healing spell was suddenly augmented by Sylvia's, his body restoring itself even faster.

Another healer, and a Master as well. Harry processed that tidbit mentally. So both Master-Servant pairs are equipped with healers, leaving me sorely lacking in that department. It was possible that Berserker had such magics at her disposal, but Harry hadn't had the time or opportunity to investigate. And he wasn't entirely certain the monkey girl had the patience or inclination for healing. He made a mental note to ask her...provided he survived this battle.

His attention turned to the battle before him and the monstrosity occupying the streets. When the twins he encountered earlier emerged from its maw, Harry shouted, "Look out!"

The two agile children beelined for Lancer, knives bared. The enforcer pumped od into his legs, activating the runes and giving them the strength he needed to leap across the space between them in an instant. At the same time, od flowed into his arm, the runes turning flesh and bone into cold, hard steel.

Harry landed in front of Lancer, just as the children's knives began their flashing cuts. His feet made a crater beneath him from the impact and his metal arm made a shriek as two knives scraped across his parrying limb. Od flooded his other arm, giving it runic-empowered superhuman strength. He punched one of the children in the chest, sending him flying back, while the other slashed at him with a flurry of cuts. He parried smoothly with his steel arm, sparks flashing.

Harry took a series of steps back, leading the knife-wielding child to follow him. "Lancer!" he called out as he led the child into a position that Lancer had a full view of the vicious attacker's open back....
 
Wasn't it too late for secrecy? And wasn't their full power dangerous? And what right did she have to think of his confidence as 'overconfidence'?

Darker thoughts boiled beneath his calm veneer, before he released a breath. A different culture, a different time, that didn't value the presence of women nearly as much as the era of the Arthurian legends did. Her own concern for others was wonderful, noble, something to be praised, and if it was her own desire to fight alongside him, then he will accept her aid. After all, for a maiden, he was more than willing to change his own customs to suit her needs. Explosions sounded, closer now, the earth's rumbling making it clear that an abnormally large beast was approaching them. The man that had ran past burst into the café, wielding a handgun that he fired almost instantaneously.

But those bullets would hit nothing, Gawain's moonlit eyes tracing their path to ensure that even the slugs' ricochet would cause no one any harm. For if it had…

His blade would have cut the man down before his Servant even manifested in time.

Talk about alliances could be properly held at another time, but while Tristan, Lancer, and Harry spoke, Gawain's gaze remained out the window, focusing on the approaching beast. Somewhere along the way, he had lost track of the half-hidden rabbit, but there were greater concerns regardless. The beast. The sounds of sirens in the distance. The destruction that it would deal if not disposed of.

As plaster blasted inwards and glass shattered, Saber's true form revealed itself once more. A splendid cape swept out, protecting his Master from the debris as a silver longsword manifested within his hand. No surprise at all showed on his expression as two small existences leapt out of the maw of the horrid beast, and there was only a tinge of acknowledgment as the latest Master showed that he indeed had a degree of valor and martial skill.

For someone who would open fire and sew chaos, perhaps there was some righteousness within him after all.

But a Master should not be fighting in place of a Servant, no matter how valiant.

And the conditions were fulfilled.

A damsel, an evil monster, and uneven numbers.

Power flowed into his body, as a transient cut flashed, imperceptible until the legs of the small monstrosity fell apart below it, sending the knife-thrusting freak sprawling on the ground, a black ooze pouring from the stumps.

"Lancer, Master," Saber spoke up, "Aid me, but do not fight for me. This…"

The room grew colder, not merely from the ocean breeze that drafted in through the broken wall.

"…is my specialty."

One cut split the monster's maw apart, but just as quickly, its flesh knitted back together, the beast unperturbed. Two more cuts followed, the flurry of strikes carving easily through its flesh but to no visible effect.

But Gawain remained undaunted.


Three. Four. Five. Six. The smell of sizzling flesh would have pervaded the café if not for the shockwaves caused from his attacks to continually driving flesh, bone, blood, and stench away. A single minded focus tore through the body of the ichorous serpent, and even with its high speed regeneration, even with its apathy towards pain and injury, it could not progress.

For each blow sheared through its form, sapping more energy, empowering the next blow, the silver longsword burning with a brighter light every time it sank into the serpent's form.

Immortality didn't matter. He had faced his fair share of 'unkillable' monsters before, and this…this wasn't nearly enough.

One hundred.

The pure blade shone like sunlight, as even the golden breeze of Lancer was chilled by its presence.
 
The threat came clearly into view.

Two attackers came from the very maw of the creature, a spray of gross ichor zooming forth alongside their presence, dousing her and staining the front of her figure a gruesome red. But, despite this surprise attack, as the gleaming knives came towards Lancer, she remained unmoving. Her stance shifted slightly, golden eyes shining out from a wall of dripping red, as she prepared to take the mid-air twins head on, weapon beginning to flash into reality.

The element of surprise would not break her. Being outnumbered would not break her. They would not draw blood from her Master. Two strikes were calculated: one for the neck of each. A direct assault from the front was what a Lancer specialized in tackling. And now...

...Harry?

"Harry?! What are you-" Lancer began, holding back her attack and temporarily cancelling the summoning of her polearm to not accidentally impale him. Sparks flew as the bizarre technique of the Master parried the two approaching children, sending one flying. Whilst it was a selfless act, she wished he'd be more careful about going in front of a Lancer that was prepared to strike. Perhaps she would've sustained hits, but that didn't matter to her. Ending it as quick as possible was all that mattered.

Regardless, it could be worked around.

Sidestepping around Harry after his parry, she was quick to pick up on the opportunity attack he'd provided. Once again - fully, this time - she summoned her weapon: A pure, bronze javelin of Greek origin, the handle wrapped in a faded yellow cloth. As the weapon manifested and sang as it pierced through the air, what light there was in the room seemed to amplify as Lancer let out a roar.

Each thrust was performed with impeccable form and accuracy, the golden thrusts moving at speeds untrackable by the human eye. There were no overly fancy maneuvers. No graceful sidesteps, or needless twirls. Just a well-oiled machine of immaculate strikes that didn't stop or falter. A faint, distant battle cry of what sounded like a phalanx of soldiers accompanied her flurry of blows.

Two strikes connected into the back of the child, blood, flesh and bone soundlessly caving in on itself from the terrifying power of Lancer's strikes. But, ending one of the two foes wasn't that easy; the knife-wielding child's reactions were obscenely fast, even when facing away from her. After getting hit twice, the small figure danced around her jabs, before scurrying out of range of the countless thrusts that followed. The two strikes her javelin landed in the flurry should've been fatal - they went straight into the spinal area - but the bloodied twin still seemed to move about fine after the blow.

"Of course, Saber." Lancer replied simply, unswayed enough by combat to talk in the midst of it, moving herself to the side as he sliced the legs from the second of the twins. "I will leave you to your 'target'."

As soon as she finished speaking, the first of the twins retreated and scurried around the sides of the room, before pouncing. A series of cuts that leaked goldish liquid opened up on her arm as she ignored the slashes, deliberately leaving herself open to reach forward and grab the first of the twins by the arm. With a step forward, she hurled the knife-wielding freak into the ceiling, the impact stunning the twin long enough for her to follow up with a barrage of jabs.

Countless, circular, fleshy craters opened up on the twin before even a second passed, their figure forced further into the ceiling with each strike. Before a fatal blow could be dealt, the injured twin managed to pull itself out of the barrage, though it was gravely injured. A blast of orange light barely missed the small figure, causing a small crater to appear in the ceiling.

The warmth of dawn collides with the chill of argentum.

Turning her ichor-coated head, it seemed Saber had already sliced the legs from the second of the twins, its figure helplessly crawling across the room. As she moved to finish it off with a simple jab to the skull, however, it abruptly rolled out the way, proving to be a mobile target even when so gravely injured. Hurling the knife it wielded as last ditch attack, as the blade went whizzing for her Master, Lancer moved at such speed it was impossible to see her movements, before she appeared in front of Tristan, clutching the blade by its tip inbetween her fingers. Throwing the blade up into the air, one single strike shattered it into nothingness.

"For such creatures to attack... what's the meaning of all of this? How many civilians have already witnessed these atrocities?" Seemingly indifferent to the layer of dripping blood that soaked her, and the minor injuries her arms sustained, Lancer voiced her concerns as she watched the crawling twin retreat to the corners of the room. With Saber holding off the monstrosity with unending slashes, all that seemed to be left was finishing off the two injured twins.
 
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The remaining twin kipped up to his feet, zigzagging left and right as he darted like a lightning bolt toward Lancer and Harry. The enforcer's drew his handgun in a smooth motion, firing repeatedly and purposefully. The child was inhumanly fast, so he wasn't planning on hitting dead mass at first. However, the knife-wielding child reacted to the shots, sidestepping out of the line of fire...and toward an overturned car that had gasoline leaking out of its fuel tank.

Harry sniped the pool of gas growing beneath the vehicle, setting off a flame that climbed into the car, detonating it like an explosive. The child was sent across the street by the blast.

Harry kept his gun trained on the fallen twin, sparing Lancer beside him only a brief sideways glance. "I've got this, Lancer. I tried my luck against the familiar already; only Servants can truly defeat it and it is definitely the bigger threat."

He saw how the Knight of the Sword seemingly gained strength and power from the unfavorable odds. He wasn't certain about the exact parameters of whatever ability empowered the elegant male knight, but Harry suspected Saber was somehow activating a Noble Phantasm or a unique Personal Skill. Either way, he filed it in the back of his mind for future research. He had also heard Saber's declaration earlier to fight the creature alone. He wondered if that was a contingent trigger for Saber's powers....

Already he had some useful intel on Saber and Lancer, intel that he could use to identify who they had been in life.

Harry said to Lancer, Sylvia, and Tristan, "We need to contain this. There are undoubtedly civilians injured by the fallout of the battle. Saber has the familiar under control and his powers seem contingent on fighting at a disadvantage. We need to buy him time to win and start search and rescue operations."

Then Harry closed in on the last of the twins, saying, "Maybe we can also find out what these guys are here for while we're at it." The twin was in a bad way. His flesh and hair were charred from the fire of the explosion and dozens of shrapnel wounds scoring his body. The enforcer coldly shot him in each leg, earning cries of agony. He kicked the knife away from the child's reach and used duct tape to cover the boy's eyes and then tied up his wrists and ankles. "Stay put," he told him. "You're going to answer some questions."
 
Each cut brought with it increasing rage. The heat of the blade transferred unto blood raging fury, boiling it both physically and spiritually. The monster had become inundated with a need to constantly regrow, though each attempt was met with another point of damage; upon patching one gash, another would form elsewhere. Nevertheless, the creature persisted, each time screeching louder and louder, its attempts at retaliation growing closer and closer to Saber. Tendrils and extending jaws snapped five feet away from his body... two feet... one foot... an inch... a centimeter...

And then, in one final spray of blood, the creature retracted its limbs from the warrior, retreating inwards as its vaguely amorphous form collapsed into a pile of blood-obscured flesh. The mound melted away into a puddle of red which began to slither away, defeated. A nearby sewer grate granted it the escape it sought, leaving the quickly-allied team alone with a charred city street and a ravaged cafe. The crawling twin, gazing up from darkness to see its last, feeble attempt at harming one of them quashed, seemed to give up totally. Their head collapsed upon the cafe floor, and they lied still.

Outside, the bound child seemed to offer no resistance, despite Harry sensing a bit more fight in their energy. An eerie smile spread across their face, and as he finished the wrap around their limbs, an even grizzlier laugh escaped their mouth. The voice of someone clearly older spoke through the child, interspersed with short chuckles.

"You will not... find anything of value. Heh. What do you expect to find? Heh heh..." There was a long pause before they spoke again, smile turning into a frown. "Something so weak, having anything to tell? You seem smarter than that. Have... a good night. Heh."

A dim sparkling emanated from both childrens' bodies, culminating in a red mist that burned away their attire to reveal...

The bodies of what appeared to be two completely mundane children, eyes wide with pain and sudden death. The wounds they had sustained in the battle were gone, replaced by a single stab wound upon their back, blood still fresh, as if it had occurred not minutes before.
 
A tiny bird landed on a windowsill outside the restaurant, just about concealing a monkey's tail below the window itself.
｢Wow, looks like you really managed to cock that up, Harry-shi.｣
It twitched a little as it hopped about.
｢Don't suppose you have any brainwashing magic to deal with the witnesses? Oh hey, are those Servants?｣
Berserker had arrived just seconds too late to get a word in edgeways, but just in time to make everything even worse. Anything more couldn't really be expected of her, to be frank. That said, she was getting awfully close to completely and utterly blowing her Master's plan into non-existence.
｢Shall I come in and introduce myself a little? That'd be cool, huh? I can be all like "I am the handsome king of the monkeys!" and they'll be all like "OH MY GOD SUN WUKONG I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN" because come on, who couldn't be, right? I shot laser eyes earlier. I would've got the same response if anyone had noticed. Which is how I know it wasn't.｣
Her telepathic voice sounded just a little bitter at the turn of events.
It jumped down from the undersized ledge, preparing to transform again.

Then she noticed.
Few things were enough to give a Berserker pause.
But something like this was easily enough to manage it.
｢Hey, uh... Those innocent kids you just stabbed to death reek of some damn strong black magic. Can I get some fries and a large update?｣
 
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