Fate Once Future
Chapter 1
"It is about time, Connolly. The war has nearly begun."
"My apologies, King of Heroes. He was so very careful not to leave a trail. Nevertheless, I am sure it is him."
"Hmmph." A pale thin hand stretched out languidly, bringing the file back to its reclining master.
"Massachusetts? That's another location in America."
"Your knowledge is as dazzling as ever, Your Grace."
The reclining figure sighed.
"It seems as though even the Grail has grown bored of this country. Oh, well. Perhaps I'll enjoy a change of scenery. Besides," he stopped at the door, turning back to the dark figure in the corner of the room. "So long as you and your companions hold true, the trip should be well rewarded."
"Be at ease, King. I am nothing if not a man of my word."
20 years earlier.
Kariya Matou sunk to his knees as blood ran from his remaining good eye; his father, Zouken, showed characteristic disinterest, all attention focused on the tall knight in black armor.
Kariya growled through gritted teeth as the worms beneath his skin slithered across his face. He hadn't expected the summoning to be so difficult, nor his little helpers to get so agitated.
He looked up as his new Servant let loose a similar groan of pain. Long black hair covered his face as he bent over and howled with his head in his hands.
"What did we do to him?" Kariya asked.
"It's probably just the effects of the madness. Don't worry." Zouken replied with a genuine smile. Nothing kept the old bastard happy like screams in the basement.
"No, something's gone wrong," Kariya insisted. "He looks too young, he felt too strong, and-"
"If anything's wrong, it will be your fault for abandoning your studies and loving family," Zouken interjected, lazily walking around the prostrate knight like a man inspecting a horse. "It's not unheard of for inexperienced mages to summon warriors from separate timelines and different realities: sometimes even the future. If we've found ourselves in possession of a stronger servant by pure luck, we'll take it."
He struck down on Kariya's hand with his cane as he passed, causing him to cry out in pain.
"Don't be so ungrateful."
10 years earlier.
Kirei Kotomine took a slow sip of wine as he waited for a response. The fragment of the Round Table, Kariya's small gift for saving his life and slaying his rival so long ago, lay in a protective cloth on the table between himself and the pouting king.
"I can't understand why you would ever want to bring that mad dog back into this world," declared Gilgamesh.
"I've received word that the Einzberns are in possession of an artifact of Heracles. It would be in our best interest to swoop up the Berserker class before them. After all, you wouldn't want anyone harming your precious Saber before you swept her off her feet, would you?"
"Do not mock me, Kirei! And that's precisely why I don't want that Servant around again. He had such a fervent obsession with her, if you'll remember."
"Look who's talking."
Gilgamesh glared, and opened his mouth to speak. Kirei held up his right hand to silence him, then pulled down his sleeve. Various symbols on his arm shined slightly in the candlelight.
"I can control him. Don't worry."
Present Day.
Josephine pushed a lock of purple hair out of her face as she concentrated.
"Hoenheim's Fifth Law, right?"
"Shockingly, yes! That's still the right answer! Can I go home now?"
"Malcolm, please, let's just run through it one more time, ok?"
Her boyfriend sighed heavily, and picked up her notes sheet.
"Where should the Anchoring Rune be in a Summoning Circle?"
"At twelve and six o'clock."
"Wrong."
She panicked. "What? What is it?"
"It's three a.m.! And I'm tired."
"What!" She leapt to her feet, bumping a precariously leaning tower of pizza boxes and textbooks. "I haven't even gone over my affinity drills yet!"
Malcolm sighed. As a history major, he didn't have to take Salem U's infamously difficult M.A.T.'s, but thanks to Josephine they were still taking over his life. His girlfriend handled stress the way most musicians handled drugs, thriving and dying at the same time. Already her brown roots were showing, a worrying sign for a girl whose color could change from blue to silver to today's flowing purple with a snap of her fingers.
Her hands were now hovering over a bonsai tree like a puppeteer's, forcing it to grow and bend in unnatural shapes. He stepped beside her nervously as it grew long, pale thorns, and began twisting and whipping its branches like an octopus stuck in the sand.
"You know if you keep pushing yourself like this, it's going catch up to you."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I think I have a pretty good- hey!"
He caught her as she fainted, the extra exertion proving too much after too many days of too little sleep. Malcolm began gently leading her to the apartment's closet-sized bedroom as she came to, already arguing against the necessity of sleep.
"I don't want to hear it. You still have three days until the Magical Proficiency exams. That's more than enough time to go through notes you've already memorized."
She flopped down face first on the bed, mumbling a parting shot through the pillow. "I'll miss Professor Proctor's lecture if I sleep now."
"If you can manage to find your crystals in all this mess I can show it to you later, but not until you've gotten some rest." He turned to leave, but stopped abruptly when she caught his arm. He sighed and turned back to her.
"Cross-Temporal scrying is an incredibly advanced magic. You know it could land you into the Upper Mage's association."
He scowled down at her. Her hair didn't match her face. It was too natural, too timeless; it had the shape of a black and white film star and the color of an almond, a genetic work of art in a cheap plastic frame.
He liked her. He really did. It was just her insistence that he apply himself that got annoying.
"But you know anyone applying for mage status goes through a thorough background check, and I wouldn't amount to anything once they knew I was second-generation."
She scowled up at him. His eyes didn't match his face. They were too soft, two soft pools of shining emerald blue, or maybe an azure green. Everything else about him, from his sculpted frame to his jet black hair was sleek and cold, but his eyes always seemed so warm and regal.
The clock struck four. The two stubborn adversaries surveyed their positions on a familiar battleground, and wisely withdrew.
"I'll be back at lunch. Try to get some sleep in the meantime, OK?"
"Right." She rolled over as the door shut gently, and closed her eyes.
Just try and get some sleep.
Something exploded outside her window.
"Son of a-!"
Outside in the parking lot, golden spears and swords fell like raindrops, but with far more speed and collateral damage.
Malcolm ducked, spun, and weaved in the torrent of deadly treasures, still unharmed but clothed in shreds. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blonde man on the lamppost smirk, suddenly doubling his rate of fire without so much as uncrossing his arms.
"Damn!" He leaped behind a row of cars and came up running. The projectiles followed, tearing through automobiles like a drunken heiress. As he ran, someone's gas tank exploded, and sent him flying into the side of a van.
"Have you decided to give up your little game of hide-and-seek yet, mongrel?" The young man in golden armor jumped to the next lamppost. His quarry lay coughing up blood on the pavement, glaring angrily. "Or do you insist on hiding your true form in front of your king?"
"I killed my only king, Gilgamesh. Twice." The dark haired man got up shakily to his feet, spitting out a last glob of blood. "And unlike some people, I don't really like to show off. What do you want?"
"How dare you waste my precious time playing dumb?" Another spear shot out from a shining portal near his elbow, faster than any before it. It made contact with Malcolm's shoulder, causing his image to flicker like a projection. Jacket and jeans were suddenly replaced by a suit of steel armor, large plates for the shoulders, chest, and hips, gauntlets, greaves, mail sleeves and leggings, and a plain tunic. Everything was black, except for a magnificent blue and white scabbard on his left side.
"Of all my possessions you've taken, only two are of any worth to me now."
Malcolm rubbed his shoulder where the spear had bounced off. "Just hoarding, Gil? Or are you making war plans?"
The blonde man's arrogant smirk grew less flippant and more dangerous. "Thanks to you, my queen is still lost in the past, and I'm running out of time to summon her. Lancer, Rider, and Berserker are already accounted for. We need what you stole."
Malcolm's face twisted into a snarl, and for the first time, he looked truly lethal. A golden glow burst forth from his right hand, and he was suddenly holding the shimmering outline of an invisible blade. "I committed many sins to get this, but I never stole a damn thing. I consider this blade my rightful spoils of war, and would sooner die than see you have it!"
"So glad we agree." The glowing portals suddenly flared up again at his sides, and resumed their firing.
The man in dark armor roared and charged forth, his arms blurring as he brushed the battering blades aside. Gilgamesh gasped as he leapt forward, cutting down the ancient king's high ground.
The dark swordsman rebounded off the side of another van with a kick, and charged back at his opponent. The golden king landed catlike on his feet and drew two golden swords from the air around him.
Their blades clashed, both figures suddenly blurs of deadly intent. The king found himself being pushed back almost immediately by his opponent's ferocity. He ducked under a wide slash and tried to stab through the opening, but the dark swordsman was ready. He leapt to the side and spun around, slashing at the ancient king's back. To his credit he reacted quickly, leaping upward far higher than any human should. On the ground, his adversary continued to spin, forcing his wind mana into a miniature tornado.
"Damn it!" Gilgamesh roared as he found himself flung through the air. He twisted as he soared, shifting his weight and landing on top of a building across the street.
"Well, you're certainly fast for a pathetic-NANI?!
He ducked as a shimmering golden sword spun over his head. His lightning reflexes earned him a direct right hook to the face, his foe having sprinted straight up the building.
"You really shouldn't let anyone get this close as an Archer!" The old Berserker roared as he let loose a barrage with his steel-encased fists. "You're less than worthless without your Noble Phan-erk!"
The Chains of Heaven wrapped around his neck from behind, pulling him back across the roof and lashing him to a billboard. They pulled his arms over his head, nearly squeezed the life out of him, before releasing just enough slack to let him breathe.
Both fighters paused for a moment, gasping, before Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, started laughing until he coughed up blood.
"I will admit, mongrel, I underestimated you. I should have expected more from the Grail's only solo winner. But…" He chuckled, wiping away a few drops of blood from his lips, "you made a far more grievous error in ever thinking you could best me in the first place."
The man in chains felt his cheeks burn with anger and shame. He seemed to be fighting back tears, before lifting his head to speak.
"I don't understand. You spent half your life searching for immortality in the legends, and now you've got it. What more could you possibly want bad enough to go after the Grail?!"
The golden king plucked a sword from the air behind him, and began idly inspecting the point. "Of all this world's pleasures I've desired, the only one I have so far been denied was Saber's company. I could, and shall, live forever, but I would still be unfulfilled. However, once I kill you, and take your spoils to a certain associate of mine, she will live again. And in return, even if it requires one of his Command Seals, even if it is only for one night, Saber will be mine."
Malcolm winced. "That's my mom, dude."
"Goodbye, Mordred."
He slashed at Mordred's neck. His eyes flashed black at the moment of contact, and the blade shattered.
Gilgamesh gasped. He suddenly felt lighter, and noticed that his armor had disappeared. So had the chains.
Mordred roared in triumph, his blade appearing in a burst of gold as he descended. He slashed down hard enough to crack the concrete, and crimson blood burst from the King of Heroes' chest a split second later.
Gilgamesh cried out in agony, hugging his chest, eyes open wide in disbelief as he sank to his knees.
Mordred walked over calmly, all pretense of desperation faded. His frame seemed to exude a dark energy, and the closer he got, the more Gilgamesh felt as though he were being smothered, his power and vitality fading.
"I did tell you, Gil. You're useless without your little toys."
He sliced the man's neck with a lazy flick of his arm. Moments later, he was back on the streets in modern garb, pulling a hood over his face as the sirens wailed.
I'll definitely have to move again, he thought. Whoever tracked me down must be an influential mage to not only find me and Gilgamesh, but convince him to work as a partner. I'll also need to figure out where the Grail is this year; the last thing I want to do is get mixed up in that damn war again.
He turned the corner. Josephine stood there, tired eyes pleading for answers. He looked down instinctively, and saw the burning red swirls on her right hand.
"Son of a bitch!"
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
Update: I tried fixing the summary again. I'm somewhat new to this site. Thanks to all of you who took a chance and read this thing! Please feel free to review (just "I like" or "meh" is good enough).
Expect me to update once a week, until I don't.