In the course of the last millennium, two major events spring to mind. The first would, obviously, be World War 3. The other would be The Global Cultural Revolution which resulted in the destruction of hundreds and thousands of years worth of historical knowledge and fact. Now, you may be wondering why I am opening with a short history lesson, however I can promise it's important. You see, both of these events are connected by a single phenomenon that occurs throughout the years.

The Holy Grail War. Those chosen by the grail with the magical capabilities to summon a Servant are gifted a Servant of one of seven classes. Saber, Lancer, Archer...um… I think there's one called Berserker? Point is, seven Servants are summoned to seven Masters and are made to compete in battle for the Holy Grail, an object said to grant any wish.

And that's where I come in. My name is Rei and I am a soon-to-be Master in this current Holy Grail War.

I run my finger across the glowing red circle that I have drawn upon the smooth, black floor of my room. It's light is faint, but in the darkness it casts an eerie atmosphere over everything, a reminder of what I am about to do. Nevertheless, I am unafraid. Because this is a test of courage. If I falter here, my quest may as well be over before it even begins.

I draw breath and begin to chant the incantation. Once… Twice… I feel magical energy flow through me and into the crackling, sparking red ring. The sound of electricity grows in intensity and I grimace. Damn… If it wasn't for that surprise business trip, my parents would probably be awake and stopping the ritual right about now. Still, this isn't the time to think about that. I swallow and steel myself. Chanting the incantation once more.

And then, from the void, an eruption of light hurls me back slamming my back against my dresser and almost knocking me out.

"Shit! That hurt like hell."

I rub where it hurts, using a bit of magic to lightly heal myself, and crack open my eyes as the glow fades away. A thin layer of smoke dissipates from the room, leaving me at the feet of a mysterious man who has materialised within my room.

My Servant.

He's decently tall, young, with reasonably long blonde hair. Judging from his expression, he seems to be a stoic type, an adventurer. And on his head sits a dark green cloth hat, which matches the rough green shirt… no… tunic(?) he wears. Presumably, to compliment his outfit, he wears brown leather boots and a brown leather satchel from which a set of arrows pokes their eagerly glinting heads out from within. Finally, in hand, he carries a fine, but scratched, oaken bow.

"Oh. Archer?" I guess. He shakes his head in response, running a hand through his hair and sighing. He lifts down a gloved hand to me.

"Saber, this time, actually. But Archer would probably work fine..." With little effort, he pulls me up. "Ah, there we go, Miss."

I nod timidly. And then I remember what the hell I'm doing.

"Ah! Right! Well, that's my strategy, you see." I cough nervously and clear my throat. "Hahaha… A saber class is much more, um, dynamic. You know?"

It's amazing how much doubt can be expressed through simply raising one eyebrow. Blushing, slightly, I choose to ignore it. If I get embarrassed or offended now, then how am I going to complete my mission?!

"Ahem… Right, Saber…" Gotta remember I'm his Master. Just calm down and introduce yourself. I feel my heartbeat return to its normal pace and I begin, just like I had practiced so many times in the mirror before today.

"M-My name is Rei. I'm a 3rd year student at Pure Tokyo High. I like writing and eating snacks. I've called you here for-"

He holds up a hand and cuts me off, an impatient scowl on his face.

"For the Holy Grail War. Yeah, save your breath, I get it. Trying to fill me in would just be a waste of time."

"Oh." I mumble and stare at the floor.

He cracks his neck and stretches, sitting on my bed. He sighs and rubs his chin.

"Kid, why do you even want this cup in the first place?"

It's a good question. Honestly, even I'm not completely sure of the correct answer. I tug on my ponytail, playing with it nervously.

"Ah, well… That's… Because I have a sacred mission, don't I?"

I laugh, half-heartedly. Saber remains unenthused. He toys with an arrow, turning it's head around in his fingers. After a long, awkward silence he eventually speaks.

"...Good enough for me." He grunts. "I can't say I haven't been on more pointless adventures before."

"Ah… You're not going to question it?"

Well! It's not like I want him to question it! But with how serious he's been acting I'd feel better if he had at least said something. Like a "oh, and what would that be? Never mind." Or… Or SOMETHING!

"Eh." He gets up and goes to the window, looking out over the city. Eventually, he takes out a small notebook and begins sketching something. Peeking over his shoulder, I realise that it's a map of the city.

Suddenly, without turning away from the scene before him, he begins to talk again.

"I'm a Servant. Honestly, I'm just here to do my thing and get out of here. So, if that means getting you this goblet… Well, that's fine with me. Just don't expect me to do all the work this time..."

~•~

Akira Katekiyo stands in front of the grand wooden doors, his palms cold and slick with sweat. He breathes in through his nose and out again in a wheezing, rhythmic pattern.

Come on. You can do it. Come on. You can do it. Come on. You can do it.

Despite his constant attempts at reassuring himself, he can hear a frequent clicking sound that he knows is his teeth chattering. Behind his glasses, his eyes water slightly and his pupils dart to the side. No-one's behind him… That's good.

Come on, you sack of crap. Be brave. Be brave!

He swallows again and silently shouts inwardly, his hands balling into fists. He knows he doesn't have any other choice but to do it. He takes a shallow breath and closes his eyes, wincing, as he opens the door to the innermost chamber. His father's meeting room. The sanctuary.

Normally, this room would be filled with throngs of his father's "employees". They would all sit around the grand, floating table in the center of the room, cursing and joking among them. Then, of course, his father would enter and the room would go deathly silent as each man would stand and bow, before returning quietly to their seat.

And then… What? They discuss business? They perform a demonic sacrifice?

Come to think of it, Akira had never been allowed to spend a full meeting within the room. Gently but firmly, as he always was, his father would kick him out just as the talking began. When he was younger, he'd stand around the door, trying to listen in. But now that he's older, well, he couldn't care less. He'd much rather spend his time in the company of Dark Angel Kuro-tan, reading the latest installment of Weekly Shonen Core or commanding virtual armies within one of his many VR multiplayer dungeons. Currently, he had advanced to a level 98 Commander of Damned Souls with a majority of points in tactics, espionage and, his weapon of choice in these games, charisma and manipulation.

Fat load of good that's done me IRL, though.

As soon as he thought it, he winced at his choice of words, considering his plump frame. However, the embarrassment soon subsided as he shook his head and reminded himself what exactly he had done. Curbing his desire to hyperventilate, he examined the room.

Despite the normal appearance of the inner sanctum, today the room had been cleared to make room for a large red summoning circle. This had been done by the hired help, sans his father's knowledge, at the orders of Akira. He swallowed and began to speak in a warbling, cracking voice.

"Uh… Um… Y-You're a S-Servant, right?"

Sitting in the middle of the circle, having pulled up a chair, sat a young girl. Probably in her teens. She had long black hair, pale skin and was wearing a dull grey costume of lace minor frills. Perhaps even duller than her costume were her eyes, which seemed to be of a sort of blue-ish colour.

The girl didn't answer, instead glaring at her Master.

Ahaha… Of course she wouldn't respond. Even magically summoned hero girls refuse to talk to me…

"Eheh… Uh… C-Can I get you anything Miss…" He mumbled, pathetically.

The girl exhaled angrily through her nose, staring daggers at poor Akira.

"Archer." She responded bluntly and with venom.

"Ah… Right, okay. So you are a Servant. Good to know…"

Akira fumbled with his words, nervously twiddling his thumbs.

Oh god… Please let things get better before they get worse...

~•~

...Shit. Can this goddamn day get any worse?

Contorted with anger, the woman rubbed her temples with her face buried in her hands. Before her stands a man, mid 20's, spiky hair swept back, wearing blue armour with golden bolts on each side and which trails off into a sort of tailcoat. Over the armour, he wears some sort of necktie. The most striking feature about the man would be his eyes, bright and hopeful and determined, they shine with a passionate light. Of course, right now, he doesn't exactly look heroic… No, he look entirely panicked. Sweating bullets, he looks around the room in a state of utter confusion.

Of all the Servants, I happened to summon this idiot… Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

With each exclamation, the woman slams her head on her dusty, grimy desk, sending papers and files flying to the ground.

"Lancer…" She groans, her voice muffled by faux wood. "What in the depths of hell are you doing?"

Lancer stops suddenly, looking at his Master. With a nervous laugh, he scratches the hairs on his neck.

"Uh… Ah, well… Not to be rude or anything…"

He pauses before cracking a weak, apologetic grin.

"Just where exactly am I?"

Resting her face on her right hand, the woman takes a cigarette out and places it in her mouth with her left before lighting it. She takes a long drag of the synthetic tobacco and whatever else they mix in with it these days.

"Tokyo… Well, 'Pure' Tokyo. We're well in the future from the time you were alive."

This shocks Lancer and he stumbles back, before catching himself on the cheap bookcase.

"Whoa! Wait a second… Are you saying I'm- I'm dead?!"

"Depends. You feeling dead right now?"

She takes another drag of the cigarette, scrunching up her face in disgust. The quality of these things have really gone downhill…

"Uh… Well, no. Not exactly."

Smack

A streak of silver flew through the sky and the woman's ashtray met it's target, smacking Lancer straight in the middle of his forehead.

"Well, then!" She growled and pointed a finger at him. "There's your answer, dumbass!"

With a slight kick, Lancer collapsed to the cold, tiled floor. Wiping a hand down her face, the woman moaned in frustration and slumped back in her seat. Looking down at her desk, she toyed with the little lump of gold sitting in the middle of the 'wooden' surface.

Once again, I have no-one to blame but myself. I was the one who went out of her way to find and use a damn catalyst to summon this goddamn moron… Shit… I really should have just left it up to fate instead of going for whatever seemed good at the time.

Her eyes rest on her hand, the red mark of the Master of Lancer burnt into it.

I wonder, if I cut off my hand, will I get another shot at this? Heh…

~•~

With a bright smile, Carrie ran up to her superior, waving the whole time. Despite the strange looks the other patrons of New York International Airport shot her, she deftly shot through the crowd to reach her target.

"Hey, Mr. Kolt! How the heck are ya~!?"

She laughed uproariously and grabbed the man's hand, shaking it vigorously. Finally releasing her death grip, she loosened and adjusted her tie.

Carrion Bloom was American born and raised. A tall, upbeat, cocky girl with enough energy output to bring about the heat death of the universe. For today's very formal occasion, she was dressed in a black suit and pants with a white shirt and grey tie. Just like the Men In Black, she joked. To complete the look, she'd had her hair cut into a very professional bob and had picked out an even more professional looking black suitcase to hold her luggage.

Hammond Kolt looked her over before giving a single nod. He was a late middle-aged man with prematurely white hair and the sort of face that you'd imagine on a top assassin. Not that he was one, of course… Well, not anymore, at least. In any case, he was a serious man with a serious job.

When he wasn't keeping Carrie out of trouble, that is.

"I'm glad to see you've at least tried to dress professionally today, Miss Bloom. I was almost expecting you to turn up dressed in full war get-up or something equally ridiculous."

Despite his cold and serious expression, Kolt spoke with a southern drawl which seemed almost contrary to his nature. Or at least he felt so.

Carrie laughed and bounced from foot to foot like a boxer.

"Yeah, yeah. You're all talk, Mr. Kolt. Just you wait, one of these days you're gonna be callin' me Boss!" She joked. Kolt simply sniffed.

"We'll see."

Hmph. Carrie was fond of Kolt, he was a good boss, but he had no sense of humour. The closest she's seen him get to smiling was the time he got drunk at the office Christmas party. But, well, the less said about that the better.

Carrie shuddered thinking about it, just as the announcement was made calling her to her flight.

"Welp!" She jumps up and claps her hand. "That's my plane! See ya, old man!"

However, as Carrie got up to leave she felt a firm hand on her left shoulder.

"Hold on, one second, Bloom."

Wheeling around, she found Kolt was the person behind the hand.

"Hey! Let go, I'm gonna miss my flight!"

She whined and struggled, but Kolt had a strong grip. Finally, she stopped and sulked. Kolt sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Bloom. Before you go, I just want to remind you. This isn't a game. I want you to be safe."

"Sure, gramps." She rolled her eyes, and held up the back of her hand. "Look, with this guy I don't have anything to worry about. You're just being paranoid."

She laughed and playfully punched Kolt in the arm. He remained unamused.

"...That's exactly the attitude I'm talking about."

With a grunt, he paused and began fishing through his suit pocket before finally bringing out a little metal tablet and placing it in Carrie's palm.

As soon as she saw it, Carrie's eyes lit up.

"Ooh~! What's this? A gift for me~? You shouldn't have!"

Flipping it around in her hand, Carrie discovered that it was a rather sleek phone. With almost an air of pride in his voice, Kolt pointed to it.

"It's Magitech, so don't lose it. You know how damn expensive these things are…"

Kolt's words were cut short as he suddenly found himself on the receiving end of an anaconda-like hug from Carrie. Quickly releasing him before his ribs were crushed, Carrie grinned even wider than before and began jogging down the airport path, waving all the while.

"Thanks a million, Kolt!" she cried. "I'll see ya soon!"

~•~

In the darkness, a man and woman sit across from each other. He is one of the Masters in the Holy Grail War, as of ten minutes ago. Even now, he's still catching his breath after a particularly taxing summoning. Yes, even with a catalyst, this Servant was a particular difficult one to summon due to her level of power.

He tidies the documents he had used as a catalyst and places them in his drawer where they seem to disappear into nothingness. He then lifts his head to address the woman across from him.

A western woman. Blue eyes, blonde hair done in a bun. Elegant. But, as her legend poses, incredibly powerful and deadly.

She smiles at him.

Yes. With this Servant, he has nothing to fear...