Fate/Barren Lie: A Fate/Zero Quest

[X] You mentioned the grail was steeped in sin, what is wrong with the Grail?
[X] "Saber, eliminate Archer. I have some other business to take care of." Assassin, eliminate the target on my mark. (Split your attention between the sniper and Archer.)

Snipers, Sabers, Assassins - oh my. Though, the whole Grail-corruption thing really shouldn't come as a surprise, happens in practically every timeline...

Next Chapter should be up in one or two days. Either that, or a shorter omake.

Day 14
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And within a second, everything was calm. The eternal gear had ground to a halt. It almost sighed as it died, oil dripping through the hole in its back. A singular moving figure in a world of steel, of clockwork gears of myth vs reality, the coldness, the gears that would grind until the world burned. But it would never die, would it? This was just a dream, a beautiful dream.
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[X] "Saber, eliminate Archer. I have some other business to take care of." Assassin, eliminate the target on my mark. (Split your attention between the sniper and Archer.)
[X] You mentioned the grail was steeped in sin, what is wrong with the Grail?
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A few minutes ago...

A single question.
Not nearly enough to answer all the things you want to know about Ozymandias. His Noble Phantasm, his Master - or, if it was possible - about yourself. About the cryptic warnings that keep on popping up, or how this War was even possible.
But there's something else more telling, something else that's been bugging you ever since this War started. If nothing else, you might get a possible lead, to investigate further.
"King Ozymandias, I have my question." You stare up at the golden ship's imposing figure, feeling very much the weak human you are.

"Oh? You have decided already?" Ozymandias looks vaguely amused at your resolve as he peers down at you. Your legs tremble at the intensity of his glance, but he doesn't seem to notice - or if he does notice, he chooses not to comment on it. "Very well, speak and I shall answer. What is your question?"

You take a deep breath in, hoping that you didn't massively misread the situation and waste your question.
"King Ozymandias, what is wrong with the Holy Grail?"

"...Master?"

Just from his tone, you knew something was off. There was something... resigned, about how he talked, jubilant and booming when talking about the other Servants, yet with an undertone of resignation. His blatant disrespect of the rules of the War, how he made no reference to the Holy Grail - you had your own questions about that, as well. You have a feeling you won't like the answer.

A clink of metal as Archer finally stops spinning his gun, almost dropping it, the barrel slowing to a stop as he fully understands what you just said. He's confused, visibly caught off guard by your question. "Something wrong with the Holy Grail? You're kidding, right?" His question falls on deaf ears as the other Servants turn to Ozymandias for answers.
Caster simply frowns, pursing her lips, deep in thought.

"Ah." Ozymandias sits down, his brow furrowed as he looks to the side. More solemn than before; eerily so, a far cry from the jubilant pharaoh you saw before. "Of course you would ask that, Master of Saber. Was I so transparent in my machinations?" He falls silent with contemplation. It takes you a second before you realize he's staring at his pyramid, off in the distance. The pyramids seem tiny from here; compared to the massive skyscrapers of Fuyuki, they are only a tiny part of the horizon, so small you could almost ignore it, yet -

"If it's too much to know, then-" you offer.

"No, no." He waves your suggestion away. "A pharaoh must never shy away from the truth, as we hold the burden of truth more than anyone else. Besides, to do so would be to betray my pledge." He sits up, turning to stare you. The cold, golden eyes that see through you, so unlike the pharaoh's usual radiance, seem darkly lustrous, faded with time and responsibility.
"Do you know what the Holy Grail is, Master of Saber?"

You stutter for a moment. "I-It's the materialization of the Third Magic, Heaven's Feel-"

He cuts you off before you can say anything else. Good thing he did; you felt you were digging your own grave there.
"Wrong! It is a cup." With a single signal, a servant appears from below deck, placing a solid gold chalice in Ozymandias's hand and filling it with some sort of pink, sweet-smelling wine. He takes a wary sip of it before putting it back down, the wine sloshing over the edge slightly as the boat hovers.

"A... cup?" Skepticism lines your tone.

"Yes, a cup." He holds up the chalice for you to see; solid gold, clad in emeralds and rubies, it was more akin to a work of art than an actual container to drink from. "This cup, no matter garish it may be, will never be the Holy Grail. That is because the exterior of the cup is meaningless, it is only the contents of the cup that matters." He tosses the cup away, letting it fall into the sea behind him.

"And this cup - the Holy Grail is the cup that held the blood of miracles, the blood of the very first martyr, Jesus Christ. A man who sacrificed himself for us, a single purely altruistic action. The container is meaningless; it is the content that makes it holy. If it were gold, if it were wood - it would still be the Holy Grail, would it not?" He looks at you expectantly.

It's a rhetorical question. You still know that the answer is "yes, it would still be the Holy Grail" - the Holy Grail's been portrayed as being wood, copper, gold, any sort of metal. Still, it takes a few seconds before you realize that he's waiting for you to say something, and a few more to put it all together.
"There's something wrong with the Grail..." you start, slowly, cautiously "...because the contents have been tampered with?"

It makes sense. Too much sense. You hope, so desperately, that you're wrong - but as you stare at Ozymandias, you see that you're right.
"Yes." Ozymandias sighs, closing his eyes. "You are correct."
For a second you see through his glamour; see a man gaunt, tired, too worn out for this world. Something that should have died but didn't, out of sheer stubbornness, and was moving forward simply out of habit.
When he opens his eyes again, that image is gone, banished away in a second as he regains his composure.
"I do not know what the true blood of Christ would have appeared as, but I do know one thing. Whatever lies within that Grail is not a miracle. The contents have been corrupted, the blood is no longer pure. It is tainted."

The silence fills the harbor. Only Berserker seems unaffected; knowing the Servant of madness, his goal didn't concern the Grail.

"...So. What's that mean for us?" Archer is the first to react, as always. His hands drum over the barrel of his gun. "We just found out that the grand prize in the end is a load of crap, so what's the point of this war?" His tone is bitter; understandably so, you suppose.
Ozymandias shrugs, dismissing you with a wave. "I do not know. Whatever you want it to be, I suppose."
Saber doesn't say anything, but you can feel her confusion and uncertainty coursing through your link. The other Servants look equally troubled as they stand, thinking through the ramifications of this war. The war that was not, you suppose.
You walk over to her, leaning back on the crate.
"Hey."

Yeah, great start Johanna. Absolutely nailed it. A real Oscar-winning performance here - no, it's not even a performance, so that analogy doesn't even make sense. Really helping Saber here.
"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Master." Saber turns, giving you a mask-covered smile. "I should have realized that the Grail couldn't grant my wish. An ultimate, wish-granting item? Obviously a hoax."

"You don't sound that bitter." You wince as the words exit your mouth - they aren't what you meant to say, you - but thankfully, Saber laughs at your words, sitting down onto the concrete, her sheath clanking against the metal container. "I don't, do I? I guess I didn't have too many regrets to change, or whatever."

"Not even your death?" You question, sitting back down besides her, resting your back against the metal container.

She shrugs. "Death wasn't that bad. A bit stuffy, but that's life - or death, rather." Saber gives you a sidelong glance, obviously realizing you weren't leaving anytime soon. "It might sound weird, but I guess I gave life my best shot, and... death was the natural conclusion. My time to bow out. I shouldn't hog the stage forever, ya know?"

You don't really understand that, how someone could be so flippant about their own death, or any death. You guess that's just the mindset of a warrior like Yamato Takeru; someone who dealt death to all as she defended her homeland. Live by the sword, die by the sword.
"You don't have to understand it, Master. Just accept it."
Gah! Were you really that transparent? Saber chuckles at your obvious shock. "I didn't really want anything from the Grail. Just a bit of fun, really." She grins. "It was more than enough to just fight with the greats, have one good brawl. A curtain call, if anything."

"Uh..."
"Just, y'know - play games, hang out, get into some good fights. Well, we can still do that, right?" Saber's looking at you expectantly, like a puppy, and you can't find it in you to say no. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?
"Sure."
She smiles - even with her face covered, you can practically see the toothy smile that lights up her face. "Great! You're coming with me, by the way. Can't have a party with just one person."

Present Day, Now.

Well, Saber did want a good fight. And, it looked like she was going to get one. You're half-tempted to stick around, but you have places to be, people to track down. Assassin's waiting, after all.
"Saber." Saber doesn't turn, but she does tilt her head in your direction slightly, listening to what you're about to say. "Hm?"

"Have fun."
The meaning doesn't go unnoticed, as Saber gives you a mock salute before turning back to Archer. You grin in return, before turning back to the darkened alleys behind you.

Into darkness, illuminated solely by the dying light of the waning moon.
Asssassin, are you there? You call out, questioningly. Assassin's been dead-silent for almost the entirety of your meeting with Ozymandias, and you can't help but worry about her. A bit unfounded, but still.
Of course, Mommy. Jack quietly replies.
Gah! Every time Jack says that, you can't help but feel weirdly happy and embarassed, your heart going on overdrive. It's - well, maybe it's because you never thought you'd be called that by anyone? You've always imagined that you'd be alone for the rest of your life - but now you're a pseudo-parent, and that's throwing you off. In a good way. Probably the best way possible.

But, regardless, this isn't the time for thinking about that. Is the sniper still there?
Your circuits burn as Saber begins fighting in earnest, but you ignore that strain. Hey, you have those extra circuits; why not use them for once.
Yeah. Want me to get them now? Assassin's voice is eager, and you're quickly reminded that yes, this is Jack the Ripper, London's most infamous serial killer.

Don't kill them, whoever they are. We want them alive for questioning. As an afterthought, you add - try not to permanently injure them, as well.

Okay.
...
...
The assassin paused, receiving a message from the earpiece on the side of their head. From the black duffel bag by her side - she put back the binoculars, pulling out instead a massive semi-automatic sniper rifle, one of the few remaining. The Walther WA200. Perfect for mid-to-long-range assassinations. On an abandoned rooftop, with little to no wind, with a clear shot? Just like the training grounds.
In a practiced motion, the assassin assembled the barrel, tripod, and stock.
Flipped back the Walther WA200's safety, hearing the satisfying click.
Saber was busy fighting Archer, a lucky break for them; that meant that the master of Saber would be defenseless. Ozymandias was gone, and Archer was similarly occupied. The AN/PVS-4 scope - bought illegally in American and slightly modified to provide both heat and enhanced vision - the cross-hairs aligned with the Master for a second, lighting them up with a translucent red glow.

Medium heat; the Master was using their circuits for something, probably to empower Saber. The scope wavered, before dropping down to align with the Master's chest with a clack. Head was too risky, though a double tap would be done post-shot to ensure they stayed down. Not much could take two slugs to the head without dying or being permanently crippled.
They were professionals, after all.
The Master was moving, into a side alley. Good; if the bullets were sufficiently silenced, the assassin could get out before it was too late. It would take a few seconds for Saber to reach their Master, and in that time the assassin could pack their gun up, pick up the supplies and leave.
A single target. Just another target, in a world of targets. Just another grave in the graveyard.
The hammer clicks back.
"Kooo..." a deep breath in-
"ahhh..." a deep breath out, controlled, three, two, one- the finger touches the trigger, ready to squeeze.

"Hiya."

The assassin fires on impulse, the shot going wide and ricocheting off the container, the target sprinting away - the wraith flips overhead, a glint of pearl-white and a red-and-black slash as the rifle is perfectly bisected. Hands tighten around useless pieces of metal - drop them, grab the duffel bag, take two steps away to run - the wraith is already behind them. Their emerald eyes twinkle maliciously, catlike pupils contracting. Twin knives flick out - left, right, left, right - a hypnotizing anthem as the wraith smiles. Assassin. Assassin is here, Assassin isn't dead-
Assassin? Assassin, are you okay?
"Mommy wants you alive, you know-"
Step - once, twice. Forward; cross the distance. Assassin stabs - can't block or avoid, must ignore. The blade cuts through with a wet shink - ignore the pain, press forward - grab her left arm, twist, kick, throw. Basic judo, off the edge. Grab the bag - priority is the weapons; must keep them safe. The scraping on the wall - Assassin isn't dead, and she's behind you. Parameters are too high - must retreat, or - make sure that they cannot extract any information -

FRRRRRACK!

The air was split by a spray of magically-reinforced bullets that shatter the silence, ripping through concrete, flesh, and cloth alike as Assassin dives to the side, hopping backwards, adjacently, little more than a black-cloaked blur as the storm of projectiles follow her in a path of wanton destruction. Take the chance - run, slide off the building, the getaway car already open. Shift, click, pedal, go. The roar of tires fuels the adrenaline as the car screeches, tires ripping, going from stopped to fifty miles per hour in a heartbeat. The assassin pants with exertion, leaning back onto the seat as blood streams down their jacket.
Assassin! Get back here.
...
...

"Assassin! You're hurt!" You grab Assassin's bare arm, wincing as it comes away red. No major injuries, it seems - but lots of wounds, furrows and lines deep enough to warrent medical treatment. Bullet wounds.
"Mom, I want to track them-" Assassin tries to squirm out of your grasp, but you grab her around the waist, holding Assassin still.
"Don't. They're probably out by now, and you're hurt." You make your tone as imposing as possible, and it seems like that works; Assassin stops wiggling enough for you to fish out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from your coat pocket and some emergency band-aids. You feel like the band-aids are woefully inadequate for the type of wounds you're treating, but it's the best you have at the moment.
"Mom, I can treat them-"
"No, you aren't going to do anything of that sort, not until you're healed. Doctor's orders, and right now I am the doctor." You reply, briskly, as you pry open the cap. "Now, sit down and hold still. This might sting."
Obediently, Assassin sits down onto the nearest surface - which happens to be your lap. She looks up at you impishly, a smile on her face despite the wounds that dot her body.

...She's doing this on purpose, but you don't really mind. Besides, it gives you better access to her back, where a smattering of rips and tears line Assassin's jacket. You're going to have to go shopping soon, it seems; this shirt and jacket is completely ruined. Assassin winces as you pour the hydrogen peroxide on the wounds, but only for a second, holding perfectly still for the rest. Her other wounds are patched up with the band-aids; not completely covered but you tried your best.
Looking over Assassin fully, you realize belatedly that the band-aids aren't going to cut it; it looks like a patch-job that barely succeeds in doing anything. "Sorry, Jack."
"It's okay!" She beams as she looks up at you. "I got to sit on Mommy's lap, so it's all good."

"Yo." Saber trots over, practically glowing with vitality as she stand before you. She's panting slightly, winded but not tired, and thankfully unhurt. "Everything all right here?"
You nod a greeting back. "Yeah. Assassin got hurt pretty bad, so we're heading back. How was the fight?"
She makes an annoyed gesture. "Okay. Archer chickened out before anything big could happen, so we can head home now."
Assassin slides off your lap, allowing Saber to effortlessly scoop you up. And you're up, off, out, leaving the blood-soaked harbor and all its memories behind you.

The first, and possibly last day of the Holy Grail War has ended.
It should all be over.
But, of course, you can't possibly be that lucky.
The stage is set, the curtains have risen. The leading actors, and the upcoming tragedy.

Ozymandias's news has shook all of the contestants, affecting them in different ways. Choose one of the other Masters to observe for this night.
[X] The man in the black trenchcoat and the martyr
[X] The teenager in green and the rebel
[X] The man in the red suit and the beast
[X] The cowboy surrounded by bones and the outlaw

Choose an action for tomorrow:
[X] Go clothes shopping with Jack. She needs new clothes, after all.
[X] Go have fun with Saber, whatever that means. Hopefully it doesn't involve alcohol. Or... not too much of it, at least.
[X] P̶r̶a̶c̶t̶i̶c̶e̶ ̶p̶o̶l̶a̶r̶i̶t̶y̶. Jack and Saber won't let you do that, for some reason.
[X] Walk around town. There's got to be something to do, right?
[X] Write-In