Martin's House
Far enough from São Paulo, the skyline actually opened up. It was a beautiful break from the gray congestion of the city, a wealthy, green suburban zone with lit sidewalks and only modest road traffic. A man befitting such relaxed surroundings strode, hunched down the sidewalk. Gruff hands were forced into the pockets of his cargo shorts, occasionally withdrawing one to glance at the modest looking watch across his wrist. Something in him died every time he did, invariably there was some kid with their fucking phone out skateboarding by or at least the thought of one plaguing his sense of modernity. An entire day of hopping around the city in the bowels of a helicopter didn't exactly make for jet lag but there was the unavoidable feeling that his legs were made of gelatin to contend with. This was his break though, the final, beautiful excuse to shirk duty that came from nothing more than blind luck. Who would have thought that a burnt out relic would point them to the genuine article?
"We're getting close, wake up." He grumbled to himself, turning off the sidewalk and up the driveway of an unassuming residence. There was no reply. He fumbled in his pocket, stooping lower, like any other drunk desperately trying to find their keys on the way home from a night of typical tourist distractions. Ankle length boots stopped on the porch as he sized up the door, glancing towards the kitchen windows before the flash of something truly brilliant stole away his night vision. Colors swam endlessly as a sound like a jet engine blotted out the distant drone of the city.
Within, the ritual took hold at Martin's command, spurred on by the power of the Grail and activated by the will of the man chanting over the saint's cloth. Pale blue light struck out from the center of the summoning circle, enveloping the bolt of ragged cloth laid out as catalyst in a radiant, growing cocoon. The air grew disturbed, currents of wind eddying around the glowing glyphs and lashing out in a wild tempest. Loose objects through the chamber ricocheted around, driven by the gale force winds shaking the doors in their frames. The growing web of light burst outward, wavering like a blue flame as its filled into limbs and substance. The container took shape, evoked by the call of a Master and sustained as a spirit was plucked from the heavens. Force akin to magic called to the Ring, and from it a fragment of Legend was torn. Bright light filled the room, the crack of thunder rocking the suburban home on its foundation as one of mankind's heroes was adapted to fit the form of a mere familiar. A beautiful process, for the unabashed greed it was born of. Something sputtered. The flow broke. The blue light dancing before Martin Urias Holcomb twisted in on itself, the shape of a man at the center warping into a fiery void where once catalyst and stability laid the framework for incarnation. The Container did not move, it did not yet feel. The winds of creation shuddered to a stop, the howling of magic unleashed fading to eerie silence as the burning effigy stood on its own in the failed summoning circle. The ether-light comprising the aborted shape stood on its own, material slumping as arcs of excited prana danced from its slowly bending appendages. Like a clay man left unfinished, it stared, featureless at the man who made it be. Stillness settled in, chunks of the weave dripping from the body to the floor.
São Paulo Metropolitan Cathedral
The Overseer's face scrunched with displeasure as a voice called from behind her, a look of soft anguish that continued as the Master she had just been talking to strode past her to shake the hand of the newcomer. They were awfully chummy these days, it would almost be strange to imagine that this was the same conflict that laid waste to an entire city and then some. It was indeed branded as a different war now. She found herself smiling all over again as their small talk ended, a discourteous nod thrown in her direction.
"Yes, indeed, this is the Overseer. Pray, forgive me, 'tis only habit to introduce the faith and its grounds before myself, but in this incident it is true that my identity is of significance... At least to those who must call upon me as an ensurer of the neutral ground. On which you stand, I suppose I should make clear." She smiled brightly to the facing Masters, not that either seemed to have a Servant accompanying them. If man had proven anything, it was that he did not need his finest weapons at hand to resort to violence. Her hands clasped at her waist, wringing softly as she watched the scene unfold.
"It is well that you seek the Grail, as I assume that means I will not be accepting your surrender today. The conversation that I have... Just cut short," She spared a glance to the suave seeming, dark haired Master,
"Took place before the grail. I cannot permit you to leave with it of course." A wry grin. "But you've every right to come and see your prize if you so choose."
"That's unfortunate news because I'm quite keen on leaving with it." A dry, accented voice forced its way in.
A knuckle rapped swiftly across the opened doors, the speaker taking the time to announce her presence even after she'd cut into their conversation. Sharp heels clicked over the floor as a woman doused in black fabrics emerged from the entrance. Despite the summer heat her imposing coat hung around her knees, its high collar surrounding her neck and nearly concealing the only sign of brightness on her person, the starched white collar of her blouse. Grey eyes glared from behind the monochrome intruder's spectacles, a sour look on her face before she'd even introduced herself. Gloves hid her hands, but there was no need to formally identify her as a Master. This was one of the other unfortunates chosen to do battle in São Paulo.
The barrier shook behind her, as it did for the rest of the Magi. From a dark corner beyond the altar a wisp of shadow sprang, carried on four legs and skittering between the occupants of the room as it ran to its master. Gleeful chittering escaped the shadowshape's jagged maw, its smokelike body coiling near the black dress shoes now perched on sacred ground.
"Nevermind. This is great, actually," She remarked, head cocking aside at the two men standing apart from the obvious member of the clergy. Masters, by the look of them. The Servants she knew of didn't dress like sane people.
"You might even live another day, Sister. If I can tell the surviving Masters what their lot is without having to lurk here all day and night we can just be done with this unpleasantness. Just you two gentlemen, correct?"
Her smile was drawn and tense as she turned away from the congregation, drawing the heavy double doors of the Cathedral shut behind her before stepping down to the floor proper.
"I understand that this intrusion may be a bit jarring as it is only the first night to see all seven Servants summoned, and I will duly afford you a few moments of time to mull over what you are being informed of."
"Ah, since they don't appear to be here, feel free to call out your Servants, since they've a right to know... Unless you're the fellow who parked his on the roof outside. Negotiations are underway with her." She reached into her coat and produced a dainty handgun, gunmetal nearly invisible in the church's dusky interior. Very carefully, she turned the piece in her hands and press checked the weapon, timidly pulling back the slide until brass winked reassuringly up at her. It rested harmlessly at her side.
"In case the tension proves too much to bear."
"There will be no Grail War. The Lesser Grail tucked away in this place by this thug and her associates is to be returned to the community of Magi, where it belongs. Some of your colleagues have had difficulty disciplining their Servants along this line of thought but I assume two things, since it is the first day you must have command seals to deal with this issue, and since we are all mages here I assume we can all reach some level of understanding that we have in common that we are adversaries of the Church, if nothing else." She stopped to catch her breath, the Overseer across from her stiffening as the silence dragged on. The Sister seemed finally ready to spoke before her adversary put one last bid in.
"We can all overlook personal pride to snub the scheming of a common enemy, correct?"
