Being the Holy Grail is Suffering... [Worm/FSN Quest]

Angra Mainyu could recognize hate and malice when it saw it, even if it was unable to sense such things over the internet. It still knew enough to be able to tell that this was a delicate situation, and that one misstep could see this conversation with "Winged_One" coming to an abrupt end. Furthermore, they had little information about this person's capabilities. While they were far from fearing for their own lives, Angra Mainyu and the remnant still understood that a suitably powerful individual with enough resources behind them could see this entire war derailed.

Unfortunately, the one to take control of their body was the Holy Grail, and the Holy Grail was blissfully ignorant to all of this.

♦ Private Messages from Winged_One:



Angra Mainyu made their body facepalm. "Seriously? The whale had more kids? Did you know anything about this?" [IGNORANCE]


There was a period of time when no reply came. The Holy Grail for a moment thought that perhaps Winged_One had given up on the conversation for some reason, and that this had been a waste of time. And then…


That even gave Angra Mainyu pause. "What the fuck?" [SURPRISE]


The Grail stopped, and stared at the text with intensity. Thirty years? It made no sense for Winged_One to be referring to a time before they were in this world. Well, there were some ways in which that could be possible, but such was extremely unlikely, and didn't bode well. However, if that was not what the strange individual was referring to…


An omniscient individual? What great fortune! The Holy Grail was excited to have found such a great source of information. Angra Mainyu meanwhile was a bit more wary. This person was still pissed off at them, and them being "omniscient" as they claimed could likely screw up the war in a major way.


Ah. The Holy Grail nodded their body's head. That made perfect sense. A test. Of course. Satisfied, the Holy Grail made their body walk outside so they could see the address of the building they were squating in. On the way Angra Mainyu made them facepalm several times for some reason though. Still, despite All the World's Evils making things a bit more inconvenient, the Grail managed to send their address to Winged_One.


The watched with interest as pieces of metal and debris floated in the air and pieced themselves together to form a strange looking helmet. Following Winged_One's instructions and dutifully ignoring Angra Mainyu's internal shouts of protest, the Holy Grail put the helmet on.

And suddenly found decades worth of pop culture knowledge being uploaded to their brain.


The remnant became alarmed as it felt the helmet on their head begin to heat up. It forcibly took control of their body, dropping the phone and grabbing onto the helmet, trying to take it off. It sent its distress to its senpai, who began channeling mana into their skull, scalp, eyes, ears. There was a horribly whistling sound, like a pot of tea left on the stove too long. Then the helmet exploded.

For a brief instant, the remnant felt its connection to the body vanish, then suddenly it was back.

The body fell back, and no matter how hard the remnant tried, it wouldn't move. It sent another signal of distress, only to get no response back.

They were still there. The Holy Grail and Angra Mainyu were still connected to the remnant, but they were...napping. That is what it seemed like. [RELIEF]

The remnant felt quite tired itself, which was strange in and of itself. Just before it disconnected from all sensory organs, however, it caught sight of a circular light appearing in the room. A women dressed in a suit and a fedora stepped out, and grabbed their body by the legs, and began dragging them towards the light.

Moments late PRT agents and the Protectorate would swarm the building, only to find no sign that anyone had ever been there.

In Toronto, PRT members would break down the door of a studio apartment, having traced the location of Winged_One there. Approaching the lone resident, a middle aged immigrant from the UK, they readied their weapons. One officer stepped forward, grabbing the office chair the man was sitting on and turned it to face them.

The man's vacant eyes betrayed nothing as he took his thumb off of the detonator, setting off the bombs strapped to his chest.

Chiron lifted his arm to block a kick and, with his other hand, he grabbed his student at the knee and swung her behind him. As she was sent tumbling Vista tucked her head in, pressing her chin to her chest. Rolling over her back, over her right shoulder (never roll over the head, as her mentor had reminded her repeatedly) and pushed off the ground with her hands.

The more experienced hero stepped forward, his hands so that they and his forearms guarded his face and body. But his student was already gone. One second she was lifting off the ground in a flip, the next space warped and she was suddenly dropping down behind him. He heard the soft sound of her boots touching down on the mat, and as the girl came forward, one hand up in a guard and the other coming around in a hammer blow, he pivoted on his back foot, stepping in towards her too close for her wide swing to do anything and pushed her back with a strike to the gut.

She was behind him again. He pivoted, but it was a feint. She was to his left, a leg already coming around in a roundhouse kick. Her teacher lowered his arm, meeting her shin with the edge of his forearm. He moved to grab her leg, but Vista pulled it back before he could, stepping back as she did so to create some space.

Chiron lowered his guard, his arms going wide. He was going to sweep her by the legs. He could only take a single step forward before space warped and with a single side step Vista was behind him, already lowering herself to perform her own sweep.

Her teacher continued his motion however, but rather than diving forward he dove down, his hand meeting the mat, preventing his roll, and allowing him to kick his legs back. Surprised, Vista found herself falling back as the donkey kick landed on her face and collarbone. Her teacher was on top of her, and the girl could only tuck her head down and guard as best she could with her arms as blows came down.

All the while her legs worked, first trying to worm their way out from under her mentor's hips, then finally wrapping over his legs and hooking under his ankles with her feet. A difficult maneuver considering the size difference between them, but that difference made it all the tighter. She extended her legs suddenly, forcing Chiron's own legs straight and momentarily upsetting his balance. The moment one of his hands dropped, Vista moved. Her legs untangled from his, she scooted her hips to the side, grabbing his arm and pushing it down to the mat and using it as leverage to push and pull herself out from under the Greek hero.

She hugged his arm, trying to wrap her hands around his wrist to get a lock, but the older hero leaned forward, pressing his weight onto his shoulder and into her. She grunted and abandoned the maneuver, instead pushing his body away with her legs. She rolled away, rising up to her feet only to find her teacher already up. A hand shot past her head, wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her in towards his lowered frame. Her face would meet his shoulder, and recognizing the danger she dropped down, grabbing his collar and his other arm, placing one foot on his hip and lifting and pushing him up and over her as she fell, flipping him onto his back and rolling with him.

Now on top of her teacher, Vista brought down two hammer strikes with her left hand as she steadied herself with her right, keeping her hand on his body rather than the mat where it would have made her more vulnerable to being swept. Chiron bumped his hips up, his superior strength, even while holding back so much, knocking Vista off balance. One hand went up and gripped inside the girl's collar while the other gripped her elbow on the same side. His legs tucked in, his shins getting under her hips. Her kicked up, then while her lower body was in the air he moved his legs so they would wrap around her hips as they fell back down. Recognizing this, Vista twisted her body, wincing a bit as the grip on her collar tightened and her mentor dug his knuckles into her neck.

Her body fell to the side of Chiron, but his grips were still there. She tried to rise to her knees, but unable to see given the awkward angle of her neck she could not stop her mentor's foot from kicking her knees out everytime she tried.

They were at an impasse. Vista could not be made to submit from the current position, but she didn't have the skill needed to transition into a more dominant position. She frowned and struggled as the relative inactivity slowly caused the adrenalin to seep out of her system. Space warped next to them. If she could only get them to roll over maybe she could disorientate her teacher and get things back in her favor.

Then in a flurry of movement Chiron shifted. On moment he was beneath her, then his hip scooted to the side, one leg swung over her back while the other hooked itself around one of her legs. Her collar was pulled around her neck as he moved and her arm was wrapped around her own torso. The grip tightened and her vision began to grow dark as she was choked out.

She slammed her hand on the mat repeatedly and her teacher let go. He got off of her and stepped back, and Vista, on her hands and knees now, huffed as she struggled to catch her breath. Chiron walked to the door leading out of the abandoned gymnasium they found at the docks, opened the door and looked up at the sky.

"We've been going for a couple hours now. Would you like to get a drink now, or wait until after we cool down?"

Vista stood up, breathing heavily through her nose, and shook her head, already moving towards the wall. Chiron smiled, remembering when they started training a month ago, how she quickly those spars would end and how she would lay on the mat, panting like a dog as she practically sweat through the t-shirt and sweatpants she trained in.

She used to complain a lot more too. About the warm ups, the drills, the breathing exercises, and learning how to use a bow (she still wasn't particularly good with it, but had improved a great deal). She would complain the most about having to clean the mats, especially that first day. They were so old and dirty, cleaning them had been a day long affair. She didn't complain so much anymore.

They jogged around the mat a dozen times, Chiron occasionally calling out orders. Run backwards. Shuffle sideways. Roll forward. As soon as they were done Vista walked to the water cooler they had liberated from an ABB warehouse and filled a paper cup with the cool liquid. Once she had her fill she grabbed the cleaning supplies they had and began sweeping the mat.

Chiron smiled.

---

Armsmaster frowned.

He had not interacted much with Jekyll outside of a professional sense, though that didn't mean they were strangers. The Protectorate wanted to keep their hand close to their chests as far as the Holy Grail War went, and were currently acting in a more reactionary stance. Though Lancer had appeared a few more times shortly after his first confrontation with Archer, Assassin had been held back until they had a better handle on his capabilities.

What they found had them impressed. Even discounting his ability to go invisible and intangible, a skill all Servants apparently possessed, his capabilities more than qualified him for both a Brute and Mover rating. However, he did share that he was among the weaker Servants, at least compared to the two that had revealed themselves, but that, if he transformed into Hyde, his physical attributes would all double.

It was an exciting, and terrifying thought. Everyone at that moment realized that the only reason Hyde hadn't destroyed the Rig and everyone in it when he went on his rampage was that he was playing around. Armsmaster frowned. It would be a useful trump card, as Hyde's abilities could possible be enough to handle Lancer, and may even surpass the bronze man's, but if he couldn't control him…

Hyde was too unpredictable. In fact, the only thing he could predict about the wild monster was that he likely wouldn't act as expected. The fact that Assassin apparently had greater difficulty keeping him contained in high stress situations only exacerbated the issue. He hadn't been given a tool to win this "war", but rather a rabid animal on a leash. A leash that he was constantly at risk of losing his grip on.

And beyond that…

Armsmaster frowned, as he saw two detectives walk down the hallway of the Rig towards the exit. Neither were smiling or speaking, just walking with the same stern expression on their faces. Armsmaster wasn't the best at reading people, but he doubted even a normal person could get much information from their expressions.

He walked the opposite direction, and came to a stop outside of the room his projection had been assigned (it being too humanlike for the PRT to reasonably deny these comforts). He hovered there, looking into the room.

Jekyll sat at a desk typing away on the keyboard of his computer, a number of boxes and files spread out around him. The boxes were simple, marked with dates and names in a messy scrawl that told Armsmaster that they weren't PRT files. Their paper records were better organized, with printed labels and not so cheap boxes. Jekyll paused, tilting his head back to look at his Master. He smiled.

"Ah, Master. Sorry for the mess, but the kind detectives have begun getting a bit overzealous with their help as of late." He waited, and when Armsmaster didn't move he continued. "If you have a question, Master, you only need to ask."

The Tinker hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the rather bare room. It had a functional desk and office chair, a twin sized bed and two chairs in the corner of the white room. Armsmaster sat down, frowning at the files laid out across the floor. "I've seen a lot of detectives coming and going...and I was just curious as to what you are doing."

Armsmaster leaned down and grabbed one of the files, opening it. He was met with a face of death. A mutilated body with its eyes cut out and with several dozen knife wounds all around the chest of the woman's corpse. He froze for a moment in surprise.

"Cold cases." Jekyll said it simply without much inflection in his voice. His eyes were on his computer as he typed. "There is a lot of crime in this city, and with how understaffed and underfunded the police are a lot of them fall by the wayside, the culprits never caught."

Armsmaster looked at all the files, the boxes. "Are these all…?"

"Huh? Oh, no. This is one case. Serial killer. This case is only a decade old. Nasty stuff. Fascinating. He was a blitz killer. Would overpower his victims, attacking them at random in the middle of the night. He'd stab them repeatedly then cut out the eyes."

The blue clad hero looked down at the photograph. "This woman looks rather well off."

"Yeah. He stalked around the Boardwalk looking for victims."

Armsmaster blinked, his head shooting up to look at his Servant's back. "The Boardwalk?"

"Nowhere is really as safe as you'd think."

Armsmaster looked at all the folders, realizing the significance of them being laid out the way they were. They were all victims. He counted fifteen. "What happened to this case? Why was it never solved?"

"The killings stopped. A few theories about why. He could have died. Best case scenario, though 'might have died' doesn't exactly give people closure, you know? Ah, he could have been sent to jail for some other crime. Which means he may just start killing again once he is released. Will have to keep an eye on that. He could have left town. Worst case scenario that. Just means he continued on killing, may still be killing, elsewhere." He paused. "But really, with so much work and so few resources, the police had to cut their losses. Killings stopped, new killings started, the moved on, nothing is solved. Well, some people didn't move on. There are always detectives that don't give up." The Servant smiled.

"And what are you doing?"

"I try to put together what I can, but I'm not any sort of master detective or anything like that. I started posting about the killing on PHO though, got my own forums going, and I even got a spot in the newspaper. I hope that bringing attention to these cold cases will do some good. Maybe someone saw something that no one ever asked will come forward, maybe it will bring more attention to the police department and they'll get more funding. Who knows. But it is the least I can do to help."

Armsmaster frowned. "You know you aren't supposed to have a public identity, right?"

"Yes, Master, I remember. Don't worry, I use a pen name both on PHO and as a writer for the newspaper. And I gave the officers code names too. Besides, they are good men, very disciplined."

Armsmaster remembered their stoic faces. He could believe that.

Jekyll continued. "Really, I don't mind. It is about helping in anyway I can. Bringing justice. I don't need my name on any of it."

And just like that Armsmaster found himself uncomfortable. He stood up stiffly, turning towards the door. "Well, I'll give your writing a read when I have time." And with that he walked away. Jekyll waved one hand over his head as he went.

---

Theo hesitated before entering the warehouse. He closed his eyes and after taking a moment to give himself a pep talk, he walked inside.

The warehouse was owned officially by Medhall, but acted as a sort of outpost for E88 goons to operate out of. Several skinheads dropped what they were doing when he entered, given his disheveled appearance and bloody t-shirt. He clutched at his side with his right arm and stumbled forward.

One thug rose his voice, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Three figures strode forward.

The two in front wore primarily red. The woman wore a skin tight bodysuit with an odal rune on its front, while the man wore a black breastplate over a red shirt. Victor and Othala. Theo grimaced when he saw them, though they likely thought it was out of pain. The one behind them made his stomach drop. Wearing only a pair of jeans and a metal wolf mask, he'd recognize the blonde hairy man anywhere. Hookwolf.

Victor reached him first, holding him steady with one arm. "Theo? Is that you? Fuck, what happened? Your dad's been giving us hell to find you."

"Cape…" Theo coughed up a black viscous liquid. "Grabbed me in explosion. Escaped. Hurt."

"I got you I got you, don't-" Victor let out a grunt. For a moment no one reacted. Theo stood there, his hands wrapped around a small stiletto knife that had been shoved inbetween Victor's rib cage. The man looked down at Theo, not so husky anymore, in shock. Theo pulled out the knife, and the man fell over.

Othala let out a scream, like a woman possessed, but before she could act a great red lance, like a boulder, slammed down on her from above, leaving a bloody smear on the floor. Hookwolf growled, stepping back as blades began pushing out from his skin. Romulus spared him a single glance and then swatted him away. Sending the Empire cape soaring through the air.

Theo lurched forwards and hurled as Empire thugs began scrambling for weapons. He rose his gaze to meet that of Romulus, who stood there with a single raised eyebrow.

"Sorry, more intense than I expected."

"Your performance was acceptable. I am not one to shun the Trojan horse just because it was used against my ancestors. Still, you will never become a true legionnaire with that stomach."

"I...I'll work on it."

Romulus grunted once.

Theo righted himself, looking down at the vomit mixed with the chocolate syrup he used to help his act. He wrinkled his nose and felt a bit queasy all over again. Romulus leapt forward, batting aside the skinheads who found guns, though with considerably less force than he had used on Othala. Theo didn't want to slaughter everybody after all, and had made sure to explain that to his Servant (Romulus seemed to be under the impression he saw them as future recruits).

The grinding of metal sounded throughout the warehouse. A serpent made of whirling blades with a canine head surged forward, tearing through everything in its way, only to be stopped by the bronze lancer, who held Hookwolf back with his bare hands. Romulus laughed. "Magnus! So he still live to challenge Rome! Hahaha!"

Theo was not allowed to watch the fight, as Victor leapt up, lunging at his would be assassin. Theo fell back, Victor on top of him, a stiletto knife in his hand. His stiletto knife.

Theo's eyes widened. He'd been playing dead. His eyes widened as he covered his face with his arms, yelling out as the blade was driven into his arms by the angered cape. Grinding metal, blood like iron, pain, it was all too much. Too fast.

Then something happened.

---

The remnant awoke to the sound of knocking. It tiredly moved through the strange landscape, a multicolored fever dream in the vaguest shape of a medieval city. It came to the wall, and looked over. Another remnant was there, knocking on the gates. Reaching out.

The remnant was tired, and so it helped the easiest way it could.

The remnant let the four cardinal gates close, let the three forked road rotate, and filled...something...five times, allowing it to break each time as well.

Three presented themselves. But which to choose?

---

Mordred, the bastard child of King Arthur and knight of treachery. Granting the essence of this Servant to Theo will grant him enhanced physical attributes, with a great emphasis on strength. Theo will gain a natural level of instinct in battle, allowing him to react faster and act with greater confidence. When wearing a mask his identity will not be able to be ascertained. This essence will make him more confident and brash. Strangely, he will find himself needing to act more "manly" for some reason.

Nero, the much maligned emperor of Rome who lived for the empire but would be unfortunately remembered as its worst emperor. Granting this essence to Theo will grant him greatly enhanced agility and will grant a small boon to his strength and durability. He will gain the ability to call up certain talents that he would not naturally possess, such as a proficiency for tactics, public speaking, the arts, and so forth. However, doing so for too long will result in a migraine. Theo will be able to come back from death a total of three times, provided that he readies this ability beforehand. In other words, one must plan for death. This essence seems to make the bearer more passionate and emotional. Strangely, it seems to change the sexuality of the bearer such that they can admire the beauty of both genders.

Caesar, the conqueror of Rome who became its first emperor, the destroyer of the Roman republic. Granting Theo this essence will give him enhanced physical attributes, overall greater than that of Nero but overall worse than that of Mordred, with a near equal distribution between strength speed and durability. Theo will gain a natural confidence and charisma from this skill, as well as a mind for tactics, though these traits and the manipulative actions they may encourage will likely be at odds with his ethics. This also grants an ability like a mental attack that functions by granting Theo the words needed to better control and individual. Strangely, this essence comes with a desire to try different types of food. Romulus' training routine should keep Theo's weight in check though.

---

OPTIONS:

[] Essence of Mordred

[] Essence of Nero

[] Essence of Caesar

---

AN: DOUBLE POST!!! START OF A NEW ARC