The Grail Games IC

The Demon King (Warehouse)
Every moment listening for invaders. Imagining fights. Going through strategies. Trying to think new ones up. Minute after minute. Hour after hour in silence. The most active thing she did was a session of attacks to keep her body in peak. She was ready, that much was sure. Both in mind and body.

But something undeniable was going on. She couldn't quite place what it was. A sense of want. A sense of irritation. It took her a long while to recognize what it was. Boredom. These times were important, but they also did not allow her to do much. There was very little in the way of entertainment should she want to be ready at all times. And yet, the boredom bothered her. Eventually, she could do nothing but ask the servant.

"What did she do for fun?" Curt and to the point. There was a question, so she asked. Nothing more. Yet it was an unexpected one. Even she was not quite sure why she bothered with it. Even if she received an answer, she was sure it wouldn't be able to be done. She was stuck here with nothing but the promise of a series of battles that would test her endurance and wit. "Fun" was the last thing to be had.

Noin - Pier

Logan simply rolled his eyes at Lancer's initial inquiry. Despite how much respect the previous day had given him for her, she was still entirely too impatient about the smaller things in life. Well, he didn't really have much room to talk...

"Actually, yes, I do know who I'm looking for, and where I expect to find him." Logan responded, his gaze following the line of Lancer's finger to the city center. It was a little off from his original destination, but it was close enough. So, he shrugged and started walking in the direction she'd indicated.

"I told you what I learned from that Magus' memories, and you were there at the docks. So, it's not hard to conclude that Eames was probably there. Since he's Assassin's Master, he would be vulnerable to attack by the other Masters and Servants. So, I doubt he'll remain where he was. However, it's difficult to setup a new workshop in a city full of people looking to kill you. The most logical place to set up a new shop would be somewhere that is definitely vacant, and I'm sure that Assassin knows we're no longer staying at our previous workshop. That leaves a fairly large space at the heart of the city where Eames could be hiding."

His hand moved to his chin, and he scratched it absentmindedly. "The problem is, I doubt Eames will be out in public. So, finding his workshop without accidentally walking into it will be difficult..."

Gedo - Warehouse

Berserker looked up in surprise. He'd sensed the Demon King's restlessness, but he had not anticipated such a question.

It took some time for him to answer. He thought back on Meira's trips into the city to satiate her lust for blood. He thought of her treatment of Ro, like kicking a scrappy young pup. Of snacking on donuts in the warehouse. Of sharing every ice cream flavor in the shop. Of her long talks with the woman who might have been his Master...

But was any of it really fun for her? Reflecting on the dream he had shared with her, he wasn't quite sure. But he liked to think so. Grasping the world in one's hand was meaningless if one did not derive pleasure from it.

"She liked to eat," Berserker said at last. "Donuts and ice cream... anything sweet. She liked violence and abusing the weak. She would have made a fine warrior in my day."

--------------------

City Hall

Geis... a binding curse that will kill the target should they refuse to adhere to the rules to which they had agreed.

It was dangerous and risky, Shiyan knew, but there was little choice in the matter. She nodded to Dowth, standing as well.

"Very well. The conditions?"

Dowth smiled slyly, obviously enjoying having the power here, as he stroked his goatee.

"First, upon recovery of Berserker, we will enter an indefinite ceasefire. Neither you nor Berserker will be permitted to attack Saber or myself. Secondly, if I require it, you will come to my aide in battle against any enemies. And lastly..."

He paused for a moment, allowing her to digest these first two stipulations. Well, the ceasefire was hardly a surprise. You wouldn't hand someone a weapon if you knew they would turn it on you the next moment. The forced assistance was a bit of a stretch, but mutually beneficial in a certain sense. Shiyan said nothing of this, but willed him to continue with her steady gaze.

"If we are the only two Masters remaining, you will use your last Command Spell to kill your Servant."

Shiyan stiffened at this. Such a requirement made it impossible for her to win. She stared at him in surprise, but he returned her gaze unflinchingly. He knew very well what was at stake, and he was pressing that advantage for all it was worth.

Still, placing in second would bring some honor and glory to the Eastern Magi Alliance. And returning to the Games would at least restore some of Shiyan's dignity. Even if victory was hopeless, there was still much to gain.

The white eyelids shut as the young woman took a deep breath, steadying herself before meeting Dowth's gaze once more, her composure restored to an icy regality.

"Agreed."

The Demon King: Berserker [Warehouses]

She actually laughed, scoffed, at his remarks. "Really? Stuff like that?" For a moment it looked like she was back to her old self. She leaned forward, derisive. "She would have made a fine tactician. A fine spy. A fine warlord. A fine ****ing serving girl. But don't insult yourself by thinking she would be a warrior. That woman is a coward. Give her a sword, and she'll use others as a shield. Give her a bow, and she'll assassinate and usurp the general." A wave of her hand as leaned back against the wall. Did the Demon King think these things? Or had Meira always thought them about herself?
 
"She was naut but a frightened girl. That is why she is gone and there's nothing but a nameless monster made to carry out a goal not of its own design." Bitterness. It was unclear whether this monster thought of Meira as a pressured child or unfair god. "Hiding herself away... I know her as little as I know you. She may be strong, she may be smart, a genius even, but she is no warrior. ... And neither am I. Otherwise I would be out there, fighting. Not waiting in here under guidance from a difficult woman." A hopeless kick raised a cloud of dust.
 
It was uncertain whether this creature was predictable or unpredictable. Emotional or emotionless. She had just talked to Berserker more about herself than Meira ever had.

Payne - Pier to City

Lancer glanced at Logan after his explanation but her eyes didn't reveal whether this conclusion was news to her or not.

For a while they walked in silence until they came closer to the city center. Lancer slowed and looked around, her eyes following the high rise buildings around them. "I think they'd prefer a dark place," she finally said. "Somewhere underground maybe."

She lowered her eyes and looked around the street. Taking a few steps off the sidewalk, she walked onto the street and looked curiously at a drain. "These lead to the sewers, right?" she asked Logan, paying no attention to the busy street whatsoever.

Noin - City

Logan stopped short at Lancer's comment about a dark place. He had been thinking about where they might setup, but not what kind of space they might look for. She had a good point with somewhere dark. Assassin definitely wouldn't want to be somewhere obvious, and Eames himself seemed somewhat dark when Logan met him.

His eyes widened when she gestured to the drains and asked about the sewers. "You know, normally a lady such as yourself wouldn't volunteer for that kind of torment..." He responded gruffly, giving the drain a dark look. "Those are the sewers though... I think there's a drain cap on the corner of the next street too."

He already knew what she had in mind, but that didn't make it any better. "I suppose it's as good a place as any to start." Logan sighed, starting down the street to where the drain cap was.

City Hall

Dowth hummed contentedly to himself, gazing out the window of his workshop. Shiyan's desperate bid had given him a wonderful advantage. If their venture succeeded as she'd planned, he'd have a powerful ally. If it succeeded how he planned, he'd have two Command Spells.

But the bounded field of that devil woman would be problematic. It was time to call in some help.

--------------------

Library

"Saber's Master wants our help?" Archer asked suspiciously, brow furrowed. Jacques allowed a slight smile to flicker across his lips at the anticipated response from Archer.

"I know how you feel about them, but I think it's in our best interest," Jacques said, holding out the message the familiar delivered. Archer's unmatched eyes flickered across the parchment for a few moments before looking back at his Master.

"I witnessed the destruction of that woman's bounded field by Berserker's Noble Phantasm, but there's no guarantee..."

Jacques knew that as well as Dowth, but it was a plan, and the only one they had.

"There's relatively little risk involved for you, and Dowth has promised us one of the Command Spells for our efforts," Jacques explained. "I think it's our best option. Besides, I'd feel better with them out of the competition."

Archer shared that sentiment, but he wasn't sure if allying with Saber and his Master was the best way to go about it. Still, orders were orders.

"Very well, Master," Archer replied, taking to spirit form.

--------------------

Gedo - Warehouse

Berserker was taken aback by his Master's reaction to his assessment of Meira. It was harsh, derisive, and dismissive. She thought little of the girl whose form she carried.

But Berserker had to wonder how much came from the Demon Lord and how much came from Meira herself. Had she thought such things about herself? He would never have known from the way she acted, but...

"I was mistaken," he said in a low voice, though his red eyes were unrepentant. This "Demon Lord" was a strange entity indeed. He could stay with her for ages and perhaps never truly understand every facet of this being.

Transition - Night X

Rooftops

The night air was cool and biting as it billowed through Archer's robes. But he took little notice of that. His eyes were fixed on the warehouse some distance away that none save one with eyes as sharp as his could see from his distance. Berserker would not sense him from this distance.

There was nothing to say the bounded field of Berserker's Master would be destroyed by such blunt methods, but orders were orders. Fixing an arrow on his string, Archer conjured a powerful field of wind around his arrow, enough to level the flimsy structure in which the two hid.

"Well, let this be the first and last time I help you out, Saber," Archer murmured, eyes narrowed as he let the arrow fly.

--------------------

Apartment

"You could take him, you know."

Raki's sudden words broke the thick silence that had hung over the apartment for most of the day. Annabelle looked up from practicing her magecraft, out of habit more than anything else. It was hard to register any emotion in her face, but she may have been surprised by it.

"Explain," came the reply, slow and demanding. Raki moved with measured paces, his soft paws making almost no noise as he crossed over to her and sat attentively.

"All the mana for the Servant comes from you. You're the true Master of Saber," Raki said in a low voice. "Why not take him for yourself?"

"Grandfather holds the Command Spells," she said dismissively. "Saber won't listen to my orders."

Raki did not agree with this assessment. The Command Spells were powerful, certainly, but not absolute.

"Saber will follow the one who gives him the best chance of winning," the familiar replied, his voice soft despite his fearsome appearance.

Annabelle's brows raised ever so slightly. She had to give Raki some credit. He had perceived Saber's nature quite accurately.

"We'll see," she answered noncommittally, returning to her work. Raki lingered for a few moments, watching her with sharp eyes, before turning and padding back to his usual spot. He didn't expect immediate results, but the seed had certainly been planted.

Illya, Noin - Night Club

"Ugh..." Logan cringed as he leaned over to offer Lancer a hand out of the sewer. "Four hours in that stink, and nothing to show for it."

When she took his hand, he pulled, giving her support to take the last few rungs of the ladder without leaning over the ground as he had when he emerged a moment before. Once she was on her feet, he leaned over and slid the drain cap back into place. "I need a drink." Perhaps it was inappropriate for him to say such things as an agent of the Vatican, but there was only so much he could take, and a little alcohol never hurt anyone. You had to consume more than a little for that...

His eyes drifted across the street, where there was a local night club, and Logan started in that direction, only taking a moment to make sure Lancer was following him. Night had fallen about an hour ago, and the streets were dark now. The broken neon sign over the club cast a faint glow over the street, calling out to anyone able to stumble to the door. Logan only offered it a short glance before opening the door and stepping inside.

The music was terrible... It was the only thing he could think about as he descended the stairs to the room below, where a band was playing a very bad rendition of a dance song. Not like anyone in the club was sober enough to care that the music was bad, but that didn't excuse management on their poor call. Logan made his way through the press of slowly swaying bodies to the bar, and he tapped the counter a few times, summoning the bartender. "Scotch... On the rocks..."

 
The Demon King (Warehouse District)
 
... "Still. She was a genius. This boundary field claims the mana of the Earth itself. Hers forever. If you want to be a romantic, it'll stay here for years if we fall." A pause. She was uncertain whether to go on. It would certainly affect his morale. But she felt it must be said. Not for him. But for herself. Her eyes met his, and she mockingly closed one. The scar was still there, after all. Even if Meira had not revealed it, the Demon King knew full sight was a gift of Berserker's Master. "She didn't need to summon me. She didn't need to summon you. This field has no limits. She really did belong to the world, and it to her. Given a few decades, and she could have very well made her own Holy Grail. The power to access the World's mana... the capability to use it. It's a secret that will die when this body does. She needed no Holy Grail War. I myself find even now the best plan would be to abandon this contest. ...There can only be one reason why she came here." And he probably didn't want to hear it. But she had to tell him anyways. A purposeful pause as she opened the eye that should have been shut forever. She stared right through his body and into his soul of mana.
 
 
And then it hit. The arrow smashed through the walls of the warehouse. She didn't have any time to warn Berserker. She barely had time to act herself. Her senses always aware, a coat of mana always ready to use, she leapt into action.
 
No, that was too generous a phrase.
 
She was flung against the tide. A torrent of wind and rubble that could only be tossed by, cutting away that which endangered her. The arrow had landed in the middle of the Warehouse while she and Berserker were at the edge. Even now as the building was blasted away, she calculated that was his intent. An attempt at the bounded field that had been the cause of Rider's demise then? They did not know there were two others. Indeed, the work on this one had been all but wiped clean. The mana she had connected with was being torn away by the ferocity of the attack.
 
And yet she stood in the aftermath, unscathed by any notable wounds. She was truly amazed by this body that had been given to her. The woman looked at Berserker.
 
 
She left Berserker the choice of what to do. He was not a Servant to command. Maou jumped lightly into the air, and just as she was about to fall a blue sphere appeared beneath her foot. She jumped again and again, leaving a trail of blue fist-sized lights. He could follow or he could stay. He could attack or he could defend. She on the otherside, would not take an attack without returning reprimands. It didn't matter how. The least she could do would be an attack on his honor as one of the three Knight classes.
 
Amidst the night sky, walking in the air as freely as if it were ground, Maou gathered mana and prepared a stance. It was unlikely others could follow her into this domain of cold and air if she did not allow them. Her hand shot out, and so did a Scythe Crescent of air. Her sword followed, propelled by a charge of her feet and thrust of her arms, smashing the blast of air and increasing its velocity.
 
Repeat the motion. Flourish. Three more times. Four separate volleys of air, each overtaking the other and filling the vacuum left behind to catch up. They acted as a single hypersonic arrow of wind. It was aimed in the direction Archer's attack had come from, but beyond that there was no target. The attack was simply aimed at the horizon without any hope of hitting.
 
Because it was not an attack with purpose to hit. It was not so much an attack meant to damage the body. It was an attack on Archer's honor, on his pride, on his skills. She stood against the night sky, in plain sight. Not a legend of old, or an unheard monster, but a human. One not 20 years of age. A simple girl. She had returned his attack, albeit much weaker and with no aim to hit. He had attacked, and she had attacked back. Not with her Servant, but with her own skills.
 
This young girl, who had her middle finger raised along with her knee-length skirt, panties showing.
All to mock him.

Payne, Illya - Night Club

Lancer stepped lightly out onto the pavement. She seemed to have fared better than Logan down in the sewers. Following Logan into the night club, the corners of her mouth dropped a little. This kind of establishment, she could certainly do without.

Moving swiftly past the people, she stood next to Logan and eyed the area carefully. Her stance made it clear that she wasn't interested in anything around her, however that didn't keep a few drunk individuals from trying their luck. This was the first time the thought of regret about her attire entered her head.

"You better hurry up or I'm gonna have to start breaking fingers," she said sourly.

Gedo - Warehouse

Berserker sensed the killing intent only an instant before the arrow had burst through the warehouse, but it was enough. He and Meira were able to move out of the blast range, his body in front of his Master and his arms raised to defend against the wind and debris. But it seemed the only intent was to destroy the building and the bounded field it contained.

"Archer..." Berserker murmured, eyeing the arrow embedded in the center of the room. Maou moved quickly to react, and Berserker took to spirit form to follow her. Her next action was not one of retreat but of taunting, which took the Servant by surprise. But he knew as well as she did that the attack would have little effect.

Indeed, Archer made no move to block the attack or even react. Any wind that did come close just seemed to cancel out around him, revealing a barrier of wind encircling him for an instant on contact. Instead, his gaze was focused on the arrogant display of his target.

Giving a thin, humorless smile she would be unable to see from her distance, he raised another arrow to his bow and drew back the string. He'd already fulfilled his obligation, but he wouldn't leave just yet.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, little girl," he murmured, releasing the arrow with a burst. It hurled through the air like a shooting star toward Meira. Although its speed was beyond was beyond what normal humans could detect, at this distance she might still be able to dodge it. The vacuum of slicing wind it would leave in its path, however... that was likely to dice her into pieces regardless.

--------------------

Payne. Noin - Nightclub

The bartender gave Logan a curt nod before pulling out a glass and filling it up with amber liquid. As he slid it across the counter to Logan, a young man approached the bar, dressed in a pristine white suit with slicked back hair. With a signal of his finger, the bartender filled a glass with Craig and slipped it back across. Eames picked it up and took an initial sip before smiling.

"On my tab, thanks," he said, raising the glass like a toast before turning and disappearing back into the crowd. He sauntered through with ease, heading for the staircase leading down below the club. Mana leaked subtly from the doorway, enough to attract the attention of nearby magi, but not so much as to appear sloppy. As Eames disappeared into the darkness below, he raised the glass for another shot and smiled.

Maou
The gust was more visable than the arrow. She moved with ease. The arrow was but a single point. Easy to dodge when she expected it and knew the direction. But the winds surrounding it would be a problem. She had not expected an arrow to be enchanted. Still, that gave a definite hint to the Servant's identity.

The mana built around her condensed. A wall of interconecting blue orbs, each layered in the other, built itself in front of her. Just in time, as the arrow passed by, leaving a hole in the orbs. Curving around her, the uneven surface provided resistance to the currents of air that followed. Maou was, of course, not trying to block the attack. Like a sword, it only needed to be re-directed. Her shield did not need to withstand the attack. It only needed to withstand the force of the wind as it found a path of less resistance. Ironically, the shield was as much an arrow as the one that had just shot past her. A single point amidst the chaos.

And yet, it was completely shredded. But it had served its purpose. Blood and hair flew, but once more she had escaped any severe wounds. "Berserker. He is an archer of wind. That was not simply pressure from the attack. An attack made from out of sight, yet he would need a clear view to shoot a straight attack to our warehouse. One high up." Her sword raised up, the end pointing straight down the path of the arrow that had flown by. "If you wish to risk leaving me alone to deal with one of the more troublesome pesks, feel free. If I were to hide in the city, he could not attack me without destroying more than a simple warehouse at that angle. The Church Moderator would surely have his Master's head if that happened."

With that, assuming no more attacks from Archer, she would descend, leaving a few support spheres for Berserker to stand on if he so chose.

Illya, Noin - Night Club

Logan glanced in Lancer's direction when she spoke, and he reached behind her to grab a hand that was straying towards her backside. His knuckles cracked from the force he applied around the poor man's wrist, and the man let out a yelp of pain that was audible even over the music. "Keep your hands off of what's mine, or I'll take the offending limbs home with me too, torso detached." Logan growled.

He gave the man a shove back towards the crowd and leaned back against the counter, his glare seeking out anyone brave enough to step within arm's length. After a moment, he turned back to the bar to take his drink. "Sorry about that." Logan said, tipping the glass back to take a long sip. "But it's better that I put the fear of God into them than you actually start maiming them." He finished with a chuckle.

His eyes instantly trained to Eames a moment later, and Logan went silent, watching the other man for signs of recognition. Surely, he hadn't walked into the night club and not noticed Lancer or himself, but the man simply walked through the crowd and through a door at the back of the room.

Logan took another sip of his drink, his features not giving away anything as he considered the possibilities. "That man that just ordered a drink and walked across the room was Assassin's Master." He said casually to Lancer. No sense in appearing to be fazed by it. "I'll have to apologize again. It seems I've put us squarely in the middle of a trap." Logan glanced at the doorway, but didn't allow his gaze to rest on it for long. "So, should we spring it, or see if we can sneak back out without getting caught?"

Payne, Illya - Nightclub

"Well you definitely succeeded," Lancer said and a smile tucked at the corners of her lips. For the most part they were left alone now.

Suddenly her eyes snapped over to where Eames was coming from. Her eyes narrowed when the man left through the back. "Isn't this what we were looking for?" she asked and finally drew her eyes away from the shadow Eames disappeared to and turned to Logan.

"You are ready, right?" her tone was a bit challenging. "You know Assassin, if they know we know where to find them, they might move again if we leave now."

Illya, Noin - Night Club

Logan grinned at Lancer's comment about Assassin cleaning house again. "Despite how much fun it would be to simply have them change locations again while the rest of us are laughing at them, I think it's better if we deal with them while we know their location." He tipped back the remainder of his drink and sat the glass on the bar before turning to make his way through the crowd.

A few more hands strayed towards Lancer, but Logan slapped them aside and put an arm around her shoulders, sending them a silent message to bug off. As they neared the doorway where mana was slowly leaking out, he let her go. If they really were springing a trap, both of them would need a full range of motion.

With a sly smile, Logan reached for the door and pulled it back, motioning for Lancer to go ahead. "I believe the term is 'ladies first'..."

Gedo - Rooftops

Maou's display of skill was impressive, and yet completely expected of one such as her. Berserker was pleased to see that Archer's attack had not injured her notably, despite the obvious intent to kill, but that it had give her a bit more prudence.

She was off to take shelter in another of her Devil's Castles, leaving him the opportunity to follow or face their assailant.

"Hn..." Berserker muttered, materializing and using the support spheres left behind by Maou to move in Archer's direction.

The Servant of the bow didn't seem to be intent on retreating, though his killing intent had disappeared. He likely did not wish to draw back these enemies toward his hideout - a wise decision.

As Archer's feet touched the rooftop, Berserker had just reached it, and he stood staring at the proud, kingly figure in billowing robes.

"Berserker."

"Archer."

The wind blew Berserker's long, unkempt hair across his face, obscuring most of the pale skin but leaving the red eyes to glower intensely at the other Servant. Archer gave a thin smile as his bow vanished from his hand.

"You have no desire to fight?" Berserker asked, eyes narrowed. Archer shrugged.

"Never did. But orders are orders, and I accomplished mine. Well, that second arrow was something of a selfish indulgence, but I'm sure you can understand."

Berserker gave a low bark of laughter before relaxing.

"And what if I feel like a fight?" he asked, his gaze predatory. Archer didn't flinch, though his expression grew somber.

"I'm not partial to displays of physical dominance," he said quietly. "but I've beaten bigger foes than you when I had to."

Berserker said nothing, and Archer took that opportunity to vanish into spirit form and depart. The Mad Servant couldn't say he liked Archer, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a grudging respect there. Following suit, he took to spirit form before following after his Master to their new hideout.

--------------------

Noin, Payne - Nightclub

The area beneath the nightclub was dark, lit only by dim and flickering bulbs placed sporadically along the ceiling, and well insulated from the activity above. That would make things easier, at least.

Spoiler:

"Just couldn't resist the bait, could you?" Eames said, emerging from behind a generator. "Even knowing that it was a trap."

He moved with long, easy strides, blocking the passage back upstairs. Although Logan could remember the Ygddmillenia representative from the opening ceremonies, he didn't seem to match the man Logan was looking at now. The perpetual frown was replaced by a leering grin, and his eyes seemed glassy and maniacal.

"Assassin, take care of the spare, please," he said with a snap of his fingers. Instantly, a blur emerged from the darkness, slamming into Lancer and diverting her into a passageway to the side. Eames, whose gaze had never wavered from Logan, gave a small chuckle.

"I can tell you're going to be a lot of fun to break. But tell you what, I'll be a good sport. The less time I have to spend fighting you, the less time I'll spend torturing you afterward," the magus purred with a sadistic smirk. "Let's make it for every minute I waste fighting, it's two minutes I spend playing, all right? Then let's get started!"

There was a tearing noise as holes were forced open in the back of his white suit, out of which four puppet limbs emerged. Two of them sank to the floor, boosting Eames to hover off the ground, while the other two moved forward like long, insect arms.

"This is my Mystic Code, Arachne," he said proudly, his two real arms folded across his chest in mocking casualness as he grinned down at Logan. "Let's see how you measure up."

--------------------

By the time Lancer had extricated herself from the blinding black veil of Assassin's robe, she had lost track of direction in the dark, narrow corridors. Upon first glance, it would seem Assassin would be at a disadvantage here, but that would be false. With such narrow passages, the reach of Lancer's spear would be limited, and even now Assassin scuttled along the walls and ceilings like a monstrous, agile spider.

"Easily in, but not so easily out," Assassin croaked mockingly, the skeletal mask grinning with foul enjoyment at her. "Who's the one being hunted now, Lancer?"

Lancer would likely hear the whizzing sound of the Darks flying through the air before she would see them, though it meant little if she couldn't swing her spear properly.

Maou
She met up with Berserker as he returned. Quite earlier than she would have expected for one who had went to meet with an enemy. "I suppose your keeness for battle has left you now that everyone's out for our blood?" Knowing him, he would have given chase had the enemy run. Her bluntness was rude, but she didn't know how to speak otherwise. "Anything that should be noted?" She was, of course, telling him to describe what had happened... or rather, not happened. Her expression spoke not of annoyance or anger, but simple exhaustion. She was made to be an indomitable force of will, and while she followed that order she could not help but be tired out by the perilous situation she had been dropped in. Right now, their only chance of victory... It was only chance. No definite plan. Maou did not like that.

Payne, Illya - Nightclub

"Be careful," were the only words Lancer could whisper before things changed. Lancer knew Assassin was there as soon as his Master stepped into sight, even if she couldn't sense his presence.

Once the darkness surrounded her, there was a flash of light and instantly she had changed into her battle suit. Her face was determined and even though her thoughts went to Logan for a split second, she had to trust that he could hold his own and that he would call her if he needed her.

This light was just enough to give her a glimpse of the Darks that were flying towards her. She dodged them, moving around the corridor just as agile as Assassin only with infinitively more grace.

"You think you have it all figured out, don't you?" she said, apparently untouched by his mockery. The dim light was just enough for her to see Assassin lurking near the ceiling. With a sudden movement, she burst forward, aiming right for that spot.

Since the passage was narrow, she was able to put much more force behind it without having to reach very far. The energy in her attack was great enough to damage the wall. If she didn't have enough room to move, she would just have to make room.

Illya, Noin - Night Club

Logan gave Lancer a grim smile as they stepped through the door. "Same goes for you." He responded.

Mere moments later, he found himself alone with Eames, or at least someone who looked like Eames. His personality had completely changed though. Was his normal face a mask, or was this another situation like the one with Berserker? No, it was unlikely enough that one such occurrence would take place during the games. This had to be the real Eames, the one that he hid from anyone that could live to tell about it...

As the man revealed his mystic code, Logan glanced to the doorway past him. Just through that doorway, there were dozens of people, completely unaware of the magi world, and living in their ignorant bliss. "I don't suppose you've got anything to drink down here, do you?" He asked casually. "If you're going to keep talking with that squeaky voice of yours, I'm going to need another glass of scotch..."

Logan took a step back, moving a little further from the doorway. The light down here was dim, but he'd been in worse places before, not to mention that his fire magic would illuminate things plenty. The problem would be if someone stepped through the door. Eames would suffer not guilt at all in killing the unknowing intruder, and Logan wasn't sure he would be able to defend someone other than himself in the corridor that led to the stairs.

Gedomaru - Warehouse

Berserker was relieved to see that no trouble had befallen Maou on her return to the next safehouse. Her words may have seemed insulting, but Berserker was not one easily insulted; besides, he understood the nature of her statement.

"I couldn't be sure that Archer was acting alone," he said, seating himself on a crate. "In which case, you may have been in danger."

It was logical. No doubt Maou had this same thought.

"Archer did not appear interested in a confrontation," he continued, brows furrowed as he stared off into the distance in thought. "I can only conclude that his mission was the destruction of the warehouse... or rather, the Devil's Castle, instead of us."

That was worse, really. It meant that his battle with Rider had demonstrated how potent Maou's bounded field could be. If Archer's task was to try to cut down the number of Devil's Castles, then likely another Servant would be following up with a battle against them directly.

"I believe they plan for a battle soon," Berserker said, his voice ominous.

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Payne, Noin - Nightclub

Spoiler:

Eames actually laughed at Logan's comment, enjoying his opponent's obvious attempts at buying time.

"Oh, you are going to be fun," he mused, the puppet arms grasping the piles of boxes and fixtures about so that Eames seemed to crawl along toward Logan like a spider on a web.

"Don't worry about any uninvited guests down here. They only slip through my barrier when I want them to..."

Eames had positioned himself nearly above Logan, towering high in the air with the help of the puppet limbs.

"No more interruptions! I'm itching to try you out," he sneered. The limbs suddenly released their hold, plummeting Eames down toward Logan. Just before he reached the ground, the lower set of limbs thrust outward to catch the wall as the upper set slammed down at Logan to crush him.

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Spoiler:

Lancer may have lost the use of the swing on her lance, but the thrust was no less deadly. Like a blinding blur it cut through the air with deadly speed and power.

But Assassin gave a shrieking laugh and thrust himself backward as the lance hit the ceiling, showering debris down and kicking up a cloud of dust between them.

Even with his superb agility, Assassin would have been hard-pressed to dodge such an attack. And yet, he managed it with surprising ease.

"Hoho! On the contrary, Lancer," Assassin sneered from the darkness. "It's you who thinks they have it all figured out."

Several daggers shot through the cloud of dust polluting the air, aiming for her vital spots.

"I stole more than just Rider's life, or even his excellent spear. Yes, I took quite a few parting gifts from him. No doubt you're aware of his Eye of the Mind skill, yes? Or perhaps Prana Burst?" he cackled.

Yes, there was something about these daggers now. Faster, stronger, infused with mana. Could it be..?

Maou: Berserker (Warehouse)

... "And yet it wasn't tonight. Tonight a single servant only bothered to destroy my support. None to attack as a team. It seems... we'll be having another single match. I'm glad the idiots are still concerned about making alliances. We'll be taking down another servant soon... And maybe even Assassin, if he tries to sneak away the prize once again." It was a prompt and accurate assessment, one that didn't need to be argued with. "Against Servant Rider... Alone, you would have lost. Feel free to let the madness reign. Even if I can't reign you in, you will be able to accomplish much. If the situation truly is lost... see if you can't dig out the Mad Enhancement of your class. You need not control of your Noble Phantasm if it has already been drawn. If you give in to the madness that you have resisted all your life, in addition to your sword's, then no single servant will stand in your way."

Double the madness with double the enhancements. Berserker would truly be a beast then. One who had no leash, thankfully. Should he go mad and even trample over all the competitors, there would be no link of mana to draw the unstoppable beast to her side. He would roar, rampage, and destroy. He would reveal to the world what was hidden underneath its nose all this time.

Eventually he would not have enough things to destroy to sustain himself. And he would dissapear. He need not even destroy all the servants. Only five. He could be the sixth. Then she could grab the grail while the rest deal with the mayhem he left behind. It was a perfect situation, her true chance at victory, and one less person to backstab her. Yet why did she not like the idea?

Frowning, she looked at Berserker. "Did you and your Master screw like bunnies? I feel an odd sentimentality towards your death." Odd. Not sad or despairing. She herself had no idea what it was. But Berserker, who had been left with only a single command, would know what 'sentimentality' she spoke of.

The person who had been tasked with destroying the Demon Lord... even now, Meira did not want him to die.

Payne, Illya - Nightclub

Assassin dodged her attack…somehow and Lancer's eyes narrowed in confusion. Why was he so fast?

The answer came almost instantly when Assassin couldn't help but brag about his accomplishment during the last moments of Rider. Having watched Rider fight quite a few times, she was of course aware of some of his abilities.

Nothing should surprise her with Assassin, but when he sent his Darks at her again, this time infused with mana, Lancer's eyes widened in surprise. Damn that slick little sewer rat. "Crap," was all she managed to say, before diving out the way of the daggers. This was like fighting two Servants at once.

She managed to avoid some of his attack and got back on her feet.

"If you think that will stop me from taking you down, then you're sadly mistaken," she said, still sounding confident. When she moved, her spear reflected in the dim light. This time she was going after him directly, trying to get up close, following his evasive movements with each of her repeated thrusts.

Illya, Noin - Night Club

Spoiler:

Logan's features hardened when Eames mentioned that people only found their way down here when he wanted them to. That meant there was some kind of protective spell on the door... "In that case, I guess I don't have to be so reserved." Logan rasped as Eames moved towards him like some kind of sick predator.

It was rather amusing actually. Many would find the situation Logan now found himself in to be quite dire, but in his mind, the roles were completely reversed, and he was getting a kick out of it.

There was a metallic clash as the limbs of Eames' mystic code crashed down onto Logan's forearms, which were crossed over his head, but he stood firm, seemingly unaffected by the force of the blow. Then, like twin flames ignited in the darkness, Logan's eyes locked onto Eames' own, their red glow drawing the other man in.

"Welcome to my parlor..." Logan mused as he fired Spark Steps from beneath his feet, pushing him upwards to shove the strange arms away and unbalance the other man. Freed from beneath the weight of archne for a moment, Logan raised a hand into the air, forming a flickering fireball in it. With a deft motion, he pulled his fingers together and plunged them into its center before spreading it into a ring, which he then positioned over his head.

"This won't be a fight Eames... It will be a judgement." The glow of the flaming halo did nothing to offset the glow of Logan's eyes. In fact, it made them seem even more menacing in the dim light of the basement. He almost looked like an avenging angel. All that was missing was a flaming sword...

"Roar of the beast..." Flames swirled over Logan's right arm, consolidating into just such a flaming sword in his grip. "Set free from its cage..." In his left hand, another sword ignited in the same manner.

Logan raised one of the swords to point at his opponent's heart, and it shot forward. There was no warning, nothing to indicate its movement, other than the sudden surge of heat as the blade traveled through the air. Would it burn him? Would it pierce him? Perhaps both... If he remained still, Eames would know shortly though.

Gedomaru - Warehouse

Berserker said nothing to Maou's musings. There was nothing to disagree with, and she wasn't the type need his affirmation. But when she mentioned his near loss to Rider, he stirred subconsciously. It was not a memory he was eager to revisit.

But the talk of freeing himself to the madness of the sword... His sense of pride and accomplishment had been in the truly rare feat of resisting its pull. Succumbing to it...

"Master..."

No, he would not entertain the thought of fear. He was one of the greatest conquerors the world had ever seen. Faltering on the eve of battle was an entirely foreign and loathsome concept.

"Yes, Master," Berserker answered solemnly, nodding. He could not use the Mad Enhancement of his class - such petty infringement on his senses would not even be noticed by one as strong willed as he - but that wouldn't matter anyway. The madness of the blade was like an ocean of chaos to the single drop his class skill would bring him.

"Screw like...?" he murmured, brow furrowed. He understood the breeding custom of rabbits, and could only surmise her meaning. But that was certainly not the case. Sex had no sentimentality to him; it was only the proof of one's spirit that would earn a place in his heart.

"We had a mutual respect," Berserker answered, feeling surprised to know that Meira's lingering sentiments for him still existed in the Demon Lord's mind.

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Payne, Noin - Nightclub

Spoiler:

Eames gave a start of surprise that Logan had managed to block the attack of his Arachne. And no sooner had he done so then he had thrown Eames back with a burst of fire beneath his feet. The limbs from Arachne flailed and grasped at nearby surfaces to steady himself, and the magus' gaze had transformed to icy steel in the few seconds it had taken. But when Eames spoke of judgment, Eames' eyes lit up with amusement.

"Judgment? Really? And what exactly did I do to deserve that?" he asked, smirking. "And what makes you so guiltless as to point fingers at me?"

It was easy to take enjoyment at Logan's senseless self-righteousness, but there was nothing amusing about the sight of the wrathful angel bearing a flaming halo, fiery blades in hand. Eames grimaced and backed away, unsure what to expect. When the sword of fire shot through the air told him, he only had a moment to release the hold of Arachne on the walls, dropping him toward the ground under the path of the attack. Then, with astounding agility, the puppet limbs caught hold of the walls once more and propelled him forward toward Logan. The hands on the front two limbs flipped upward to reveal vicious, spinning blades like drills, which Eames thrust at his opponent.

[OOC: Payne, I don't need Logan to get seriously hurt, but I do need him to bleed a bit at some point during the battle. This seems like a good point.]

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Spoiler:

Assassin was not surprised to see that Lancer had managed to avoid all the daggers and most of the backlash from the mana. Her unwavering confidence, however, was rather unexpected.

"Fufu... still so self-assured," Assassin murmured amusedly. "We'll see how long that lasts."

Lancer readied her spear for another assault, but Assassin was scuttling back along the ceiling, drawing her further in.

"I shall enjoy feeding on you, Lancer," he crooned happily. "I wonder what excellent Skills I can plunder from your corpse. But first, I wonder, do you enjoy the heat as much as your Master?"

He extended his arm, which began to glow red, the air around it wavering with the intense heat being radiated by it.

"Now burn."

The air around Lancer suddenly combusted in a white-hot torrent of flames, blinding out the sight of the cackling skeletal mask.