Fate / Stained Inheritance

A Rider and a Knight

In the quiet streets of London, the nighttime silence is broken by the roar of an engine; a motorbike streaks over the tarmac, weaving through an old industrial estate. Two figures ride it; a helmeted figure in a heavy, concealing jacket at the wheels, a saber strapped onto his back. On the rear seat, a shaggy haired, misshaven man just about to leave his 20's, shabbily dressed in casual wear and a tattered labcoat. He laughs maniacally as the wind buffets his face, before reaching down to the side of the bike, a faint flow of ectoplasm gathering around the bike's wheels as he channels mana into it. His other hand taps the driver on the back, who nods, before wrenching the bike back into a wheelie, then launching it towards a building.

The ectoplasm splatters out as the bike lands, sticking to the building wall, holding the bike on as the pair continues to roar around the estate, now stuck at 90 degrees to the ground. Eventually, the pair stop on a rooftop, looking out over the estate.

"They're still on our six, Master." The driver's voice is calm, focussed. Male, slightly refined. Younger sounding than his passenger. He calmly checks the bike over, flipping the sights up on the large gun mounted between the handlebars of the bike and giving it a once over. Practiced motions, routine.

"Fine then Rider, lets see what his smugness wants." The Master's breathing heavily, a grin on his face.

With that, the pair of them set off again, doing a quick 180 before streaking back over the rooftops. They eventually come to rest on the top of an old parking garage, facing the pair already there waiting.

"Well, it took you long enough, Mr Wight." The first of the pair speaks up; a tall, darker skinned man, who just oozes money; a short, perfectly trimmed beard, cropped hair, an immaculate, perfectly tailored black suit and large amounts of jewelry on his hands. Egyptian, from the style of his decorations. A golden jackal-styled false tooth is visible as he talks. His command seals are plain to see on his forehead, the topmost of the three strokes faded and used.

The second of the pair remains silent; a solid foot taller than the egyptian, nothing can be seen of the man underneath the set of monstrously heavy, undecorated armour, a hand and a half sword half-dragged behind him as his visored head turns to the newcomers, his free hand tensing expectantly.

"Go on then Dathmet," Mr Wight, Rider's Master, says, casting an eye to the armoured Servant warily. "Did you just want to make that hulk known?"

"First things first, must you be so informal? I was wondering if you were aware about the most recent developments. First an Einzbern breaks into the war, and now poor Dr Lainur's attempt to take that sample for himself has backfired; it has a servant of its own now- a Ruler, at that." Dathmet's voice is deep; confident and self assured, and pitiless as the headsman's axe.
Mr Wight just laughs at the news. "I knew it- I knew that there was more that could be done with the system! I have to meet them now, to see just what my tweaks have allowed to be summoned. As for their entry into the contest- Oh I'm not going to win, I've seen some of the monsters you've summoned. I don't have the bloodline to support any of those, Rider here is the best I can do."

"Then that makes things easier. Surrender. Once I turn the association on its head, I will reward those who aid me."

"Oh no no no. I'm not winning, but I'm not making it easy on anyone- A day like this is worth years of theory. RIDER, GO!" Mr Wight yells, as Rider kicks the bike off, turning away from the other pair and accelerating away.

Dathmet sighs, a carved stone throne rising up from the earth with a click of his fingers, carved eyes blinking on its surface. Some people just don't know a good deal. "So be it. Berserker, go."

With a low, guttural snarl, Berserker leaps after Rider, concrete shattering with his footsteps as Dathmut casually sits on the throne. His eyes unfocus as the carved eyes flow off the chair and into the concrete, flitting away in pursuit of the fight. Charging after Rider, Berserker snarls. He had a slower start, but he's building up momentum now.

"Rider, now-" Mr Wight shoves another burst off mana into the bike, ghostly hands bracing it as Rider draws yet more speed out of the bike, rocketing through a series of alleyways with a series of sliding, pinpoint turns emerging into an empty street ad the edge of the industrial estate.

They're turning to leave when the warehouse behind them explodes,-Berserker roars as he simply charges through the wall, a streak of ruin three buildings long behind him as he slams down a rebar pillar.

Rider guns the engine as the pillar comes crashing down, his master firing mana directly into the bike to up their acceleration more- it's just enough- the rebar hammers into the tarmac mere inches behind them, fragments of rubble plinking harmlessly off the back of the bike.

There's no time though, Berserker flinging himself off the embedded metal to give himself a faster start as he tries to catch up with them- with a leap, Berserker hurls himself into the air, flinging his sword down at the pair.

Rider jerks the handlebars violently, almost crashing the bike as he slams the pair of them into a skid- frantically trying to get him and his Master at an angle to the descending blade. It works- just, the blade slicing across one of Riders arms, a spray of blood coming from the wound. Then the shockwave hits, the force of the blades passage knocking the bike flying.

Rider wrestles with the bike as a chant comes from behind him, his Master flinging a spray of ectoplasm out from the ground- a ramp to catch them. With a yell, Rider sticks the landing, returning down to solid ground via the ramp.

There's not much time though. Berserker's already tearing his sword out of the crater it left. They need an opening.

"RIDER, FLY" Wight yells, plastering the warehouse wall ahead of them with plasm- another ramp- one that'll take them straight up.

"Finally," Rider yells, accelerating towards the wall, faster and faster, flinging themselves up the warehouse's side as fast as they can. Reaching the top, Rider ramps them back, launching the pair into the sky above Berserker.

Berserker's tensing himself again, readying to hurl his blade at the pair the moment they land. Their flight is predictable. They're a sitting duck.

Berserker never gets the chance- at the apex of the arc, Rider slams his fist on the handlebars, forcing the nose of the bike down and bringing Berserker into his sights

The roar of the machine gun is deafening, a torrent of bullets slamming into Berserker- his armour dents under the barrage as he roars, holding up an arm to shield himself from the onslaught- it cracks, then shatters, lead ripping through flesh. The volley ends as Rider lands, his back wheel grinding off Berserkers helmet before him and his Master accelerate into the night while Berserker's still stunned.

Behind the retreating Rider, Berserker roars with rage, blood pouring through the cracks and holes in his armour; his chest and shoulder took the brunt of the attack, and while the wounds are deep, they are far from fatal.

Still, with the delay and the damage, his prey are gone. With another wordless cry, Berserker slams down an armoured foot, smashing through the pavement, burrowing it into the fresh soil below.

Light shines out from beneath his armour as Berserker yells into the sky, the flow of blood ceasing as Berserker gorges himself on mana, power flowing up from the land and into him. He slams a fist into his chest as his armour repairs itself, instinctively trying to scratch an itch beneath the plate as he finally heeds his Masters call.

Berserker vanishes into spirit form, returning to his Masters side. All that's left in his wake is a ruined street of broken glass and shattered concrete… and a pile of bloody bullets in the centre of some withered brown grass.



The second day of the grail war dawns.
And that's a couple more servants out there to think about.

The Pleiades shine in the night sky, glimmering brightly against the dark as you look up at them. The murmur of conversation surrounds you, but none of it's clear. You try to sit up and get your bearings, but you can't move; there's something cold and hard pinning you down, strapping you in place. You shake ineffectually, before you feel a sting in your arm and an icy numbness spreads through you.

The Pleiades glimmer in the sky as the world around you shakes, a static hum at the edge of your perception. A star erupts, blazing brighter than ever before, burning out to a distant scream.

Time passes, you don't know how much.

The static hum comes again, as six stars light the sky. Even in your addled mind, there's one thing you can think.

"DON'T LET IT BE ME!" You scream, hurling yourself upright in bed. You're gasping for breath, sweat plastering your clothes. The morning sun streams through the curtains as Ruler opens the door.

"Easy there Master- you're safe here. Dreams can't hurt you." Ruler comes in, sitting at the foot of the bed.

You don't say anything, trying to grasp at the dream as it crumbles from your memory. Was it this? Was it that? From the vaults? Something else? The only thing you can recall was that feeling. A desperate need for it to not be you.

Shaking your head, you drag yourself out of the bed, peeling your shirt away from you. Ruler jabs a thumb towards a wall. "Shower's through there. Clean yourself up, get it off your mind."

Ruler's right. It's hard to not feel like shit when you're this messed up. You stumble out of the bedroom, fumbling across the wall to the bathroom door. Gray's collapsed on a sofa, her hood having flopped back to show her face off properly; short, straight hair that's not that much paler than yours, a pair of bangs and a fringe at the front with the rest pinned up at the back, and an ahoge flopping down onto her forehead. For her actual face, the impression of androgynity you got in the church is only reinforced when seeing it properly. Could be a model with how pristine it is. Far better looking than your corpse-like pallor. You'd be happy looking like that… but then again you didn't have it forced on you. You might look half dead but at least you're your corpse.

You realise you're staring as Gray shifts in her sleep, awkwardly turning away and entering the bathroom. It's way better than what you're used to. For one, there's a door, and the shower's in a tub, rather than just having a drain set in the floor beneath it. There's also soap. That's a thing. You step into the shower, and begin fiddling with the controls, hastily pushing the showerhead away from you as you get sprayed by cold water. You eventually manage to get it working properly, and the waters hot. No room temperature drizzle, it's an actual spray of proper hot water.

You grab your shirt off the floor, giving it a quick run under the water before hanging it on the radiator, before grabbing a cloth, soap and starting to scrub. Ruler's right. It's hard to feel like shit when this feels so good. After going head to toe with the scrubbing, you just lie back in the tub for a bit, letting the water spray over you.

After a bit of time, you pick yourself up and get to work with the shampoo, properly massaging it into your scalp and losing several minutes just working over your scalp, before finally rinsing off. Towelling yourself down, you put on your clothes again- your shirt's still a bit damp but it's better than it stinking of fear and sweat. Before buttoning it up, you check yourself in the mirror. Still look mostly dead, but at least freshly dead. You trace a finger across the faint crack-looking lines that spread across your chest. They weren't there when you woke up yesterday. Are they your circuits? Or a sign of? The first time you can recall them was after Ruler appeared. You… don't have much of a clue what they are. They look as much a mess as the rest of you though. So they're probably yours.

Buttoning up your shirt, you stumble into the main room, a towel still draped over your head. Gray's up and about and hooded now, sitting on a chair as Ruler busies herself at the little bit of kitchenage that's at the side of the main room. Something smells good at least.

"Oh- there you are my Master-" Ruler spins around as you enter, sweeping you into a chain opposite Gray with a wink. "You've had your bath, now for food- but I'm afraid I'm off the table."

Ruler goes back to the kitchen, merrily humming as she keeps working on the food. Ou're just left with Gray, facing each other across a table.

"You're looking better." Gray says, taking a sip of tea as you sit there awkwardly. You did see what's under the hood when you know she'd been hiding it.

"Oh- Thanks." You trail off, leaving an awkward pause. "Sorry I took the bed."

"It's fine. You needed it more." Gray shakes her head slightly.

There's another awkward silence, broken by Ruler sweeping in to set a few plates of food on the table. You immediately pounce on the food, grabbing a few slices of jam-slathered toast and shovelling them down your throat. It's the second time you're having hot food and it's just as good as the first, and the jam's so sweet.

You hear a gentle laugh from across the table and look up to see Gray smiling, a piece of toast dropping from your mouth.

"You've got some on you." She says, pointing to your cheek.

You reach up with a napkin, pointing to where she's indicating and wipe away a smear of jam. Oh. You might have overdid it there, going off how her and Ruler and eating. You finish the toast and wash it down with some orange juice, before turning to the lovely thick sausages, steam still rising off them. You manage to avoid just diving on them, instead scooping some onto your plate with a fork and restraining yourself as you eat them… which still ends up as you shovelling them down around twice as fast as anyone else is eating because they're so good.

As you're halfway through a sausage, the phone rings, all of you present turning to face it.

[] You answer it
[] Ruler answers it
[] Gray answers it