Author's notes: Just something I wrote bit…by bit at the back of my SEP/flight manual in the middle of lunch time at work out of boredom. This is an alternate take of what happened, years after Fate/Zero.
Xxx
Lust and innocence. A Fate/ZERO inspired fic.
As if eventually even exists.
(Eventually ...is something more than never.)
The silly girl's world was a display of corpses and crimson.
"Are you truly happy with what you've done, father?"
"After what you've done, can you say that you're truly at peace now?"
There was a handsome face before her, contorted in pain.
Her lips were moving.
The voice and soul behind her actions weren't.
The person before her fell.
In her horror, the silly school girl realized that she had slain someone.
"You will regret this." The fallen person before her spoke.
"Regret I will."
And her regret was a shade of red, trailing across the joints of her shoulders, across her arm, staining dirt covered finger tips in a fluid of red. Adrenaline from the confrontation was still pumping strongly through her body, masking the pain.
Without the hindrance of pain, it was difficult to distinguish if the fluid was blood from her broken blood vessels or the boy who attempted to teach her a lesson with the art of violence.
Or was it something else from the cup that had gained notorious fame for hosting a portion of Jesus' blood?
"Can the son of God even bleed?"
xXx
The integers were fully laid out before him. In his domain of gold, Gilgamesh would will eternity away with songs, poetry, wine and women. Occasionally, he would amuse himself with a new toy and today, that toy happened to be a little box that would spew out music.
An iPod to be precise.
The self proclaimed King of Heroes was currently stretched luxuriously across the bed, surrounded by drapes of velvet and silk. His ears were currently plugged in by the gadget's headphones and his meek fingers were hitting the buttons. The knowledge on how to work the ancient device was slowly being filed into him by the use of ancient sorcery, drawing various teachings from the alternate layers of reality, space and time that surrounded the entire span of creation.
Gilgamesh removed his headphones and shut the iPod off when a slave returned with his requested glass of wine.
"I have decided that I very much love to see the world outside once more." He announced.
The slave nodded weakly, daring not to comment on how his lord's soul was but trapped within a chamber of gold due to his soul's desire for vengeance.
It was not in the role of a slave to judge or offer opinions. Their mind and body belonged to their master.
"Not as a servant," The king spoke once more. "But as a human being."
An impossible wish which is the reason why he wanted his holy grail back.
Of course it's his. Every damn treasure in the human world belonged to him and him alone. But alas, the grail was nothing but mere stardust, thanks to the ancient king of Britain.
Which only meant one thing; Gilgamesh was dead. He had no way out of his own world. He was doomed to roam the confines of his own hyperspace until someone freed him which would be unlikely.
The archer classed servant sneered. If the war was truly over, he wouldn't even be present in any state of existence. His glorious hyperspace would be a court of emptiness.
The slave before him was silent.
"Tell me, slave." Gilgamesh sneered. "Tell me that it is possible for me to revive the holy grail back from it's ultimate demise."
The slave didn't even hesitate at his master's request.
"It is possible for the holy grail to be revived from this ultimate demise." The slave spoke in a very flat tone.
"Splendid." Gilgamesh effortlessly took the life of the slave before him. "You are a skilled liar."
And a skilled liar was what Gilgamesh needed.
Gilgamesh wanted the blood of a loyal, skillful liar.
Gripping the lifeless slave by the neck, nimble dug into the tender wound.
"Blood of the innocence." Gilgamesh scowled. This slave was not innocent but his resources were falling short.
It would have to do.
The Holy Grail would be reconstructed. The war will occur. Servants will rise and Gilgamesh will taste freedom all over again.
xXx
How in the world did it all boiled down to this?!
A lone school girl dodged around a sharp cornerstone of graffiti and the homeless, having chosen to sought solace from the shadows of the walls as the raunchy men hunted her down like a red light worker who had refused to offer their services to them for free.
The passersby were absolutely useless. Of course they would be. They consisted of the boys from her school. Cigarette scented breath coating their unkempt uniforms that had been doused with cheap perfume in a futile hope to mask the smell of nicotine and cheap beer.
They were taunting her endlessly.
The ones who weren't on their side were equally useless. In fear, they simply stood their ground and watched.
Who was she kidding?
"There is no such thing as heroes in this world after all." She muttered as she dodge a blow from the oversized troll of a classmate.
"You're damn right." The leader of the pack howled at her like a group of hyenas. If this had been an audition of the Lion King, the girl was pretty sure that the pack leader would've nailed down one or two particular role of Scar's henchman.
"Now just do me a favor, fattie." The leader spoke again. "Just stand still and die. I'd hate to see you die from a heart attack from all that running before you get sent to the ICU by my blow."
And that was the point where everyone would howl away, laughing and screaming in sheer hysteria.
Pain would eventually flood her sensations as they railed on her physically.
But laughter did not reach her ears. Nor did pain flooded over her.
There was no more taunting. No more tears.
There was fear.
"Wh...wh...what is this!?" The pack leader cried.
Daring a glance, the girl was greeted by blinding white light, forcing her eyes to shut tight.
Metal was being released and with a quick swing of something, the pack leader and his gang fell into eternal silence.
"You can open your eyes now." The voice was that of a young man's with a questionable emotion and motive.
Yet, it was the owner of that voice that had saved her and his shadow was cloaking her short, cowering built.
The sight that she was greeted by was something absolutely astonishing and unexpected. A man with a cloak and armor as black as midnight. The setting sun was casting a glow of red over the thick velvet fabric that draped his gallant frame and the school girl could see that there was a silhouette of red against the black velvet.
Was that red merely blood from her classmate's slain form or was it simply the make of the material?
"...Are you for real?"
It was an impolite but logical question coming from her lips, a resident of the 21st century, one that the man before her choose to ignore.
"I ask of you, my lady." The man began, looking at her in the eye.
His face was gentle and kind but his green eyes were malicious and untrustworthy. Long blonde hair framed his face in messy locks.
He was an artifact of the past. He had to be.
Or an overglorified cosplayer.
"Are you my master?"
But the assumptions of fictional delusions were immediately shattered by the sight of her left arm. A trail of red which she had recognized, as her own blood.
Baffled, the girl was torn between running away or replying that she had no idea what he was talking about.
'Yes.' Her mind sang.
Seemingly understanding what her mind was singing to her head, the young armored man before her nodded before dissolving into red mist, scattering all over her lithe frame.
And the pack leader and her classmates?
They lay before her, covered in a sea of red.
xXx
The act of sin did not go unnoticed to the ears of the Father.
The church keeper leaned against his desk, eyes glued to the screen of the expensive new Mac Book.
"It seems like we're not the only one in this rat race, my beau." The Father smiled a smile that did not really reach his tired eyes. "What do you think, my dear girl?"
Shifting his eyes to the couch, a woman in a dress, the shade of the solar atmosphere itself, was lounged out in a very carefree manner, like any rightful 16 year old.
"Sorry, you were saying something?" Her thick French accented voice spoke. "I wasn't too well aware of your words, monsieur."
The smile was totally gone.
The Father was angry but he knew better then to raise a fist at the young 16 year old's pretty face.
Sensing her foster dad's displeasure, the young girl inwardly chuckled and sat up on the plush fabric couch, releasing a very odd hum of pleasure as the couch sank down with her weight of her armor. Placing the computer tablet down on her lap, the girl looked at her father.
That did the trick.
The Father found his temper level flooding back down to the bottom of a black pit. No one could ever resist that cute, sweet, childish face of a young village girl.
"I see that you have taken quite a liking to my iPad." The Father observed.
"It is an interesting piece of technology." The young girl spoke slowly, giving the Father time to get use to her thick accent.
English was not her first language but the Father was a master of this chess game. His preparations for the summoning were flawless. He had the catalyst imported all the way from Doremy and he had spent hours, meditating before and after Mass.
His efforts did not go unrewarded. He was granted with the most powerful of servants, the Judge of the Holy Grail war.
While he had ensured that the transition from the netherworld to the mortal realm would be as smooth as possible, the summoning rite he had done, had its flaws.
His servant could not comprehend good English or modern technologies within the first 24 hours after summoning.
Fortunately, The Father had the foresight that such mishaps were inevitable.
Though the error was minor in general, it could prove to be a grave hindrance during the course of the game. A week had already gone by and the Father was pleased that his servant had already gotten the hang of the modern world in general.
By God's grace, the girl was miraculously a quick learner.
"A week ago, you were struggling how to use a basic washing machine." The Father noted with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Father," the young girl's tone was meant to be menacing but for a lack of better purpose, it ended up being a bit pouty. "That was last week's issue. I will have you know that I have mastered the basic functions of all the household equipments within the church's premises."
"Excluding the telephone."
The servant released a sigh. "The Smartphone is a different story altogether."
The priest laughed. "Patience, child. Even people of the same age as you in this present era, takes a year to fully understand the functions of that particular build of phone."
"...I like my phone to be dumb. It's less confusing to use." came the girl's dry reply.
"You won't have the internet and it's vital we keep in touch with the latest updates when you are out on the battlefield, dear." The church keeper reminded her. "You need to learn how to use a smartphone to stay connected for convenience sake."
"...can't we just use text messages?"
"We will be using a combination of text messages and other means." The Father reminded her as he walked up to her, handing her a white touch screen phone.
"I suppose there is just no way around this, is there?" The servant sighed and accepted the phone with her armored hand, giving the device a menacing look.
"What about this?" The Father sat down on the couch next to his servant. "Why don't I send Jeremiah out to town with you?"
"An errand?" The girl blinked.
Ever since her arrival to this mortal plane a week ago, the Father had forbid her to leave the church's premises and she understood the reason behind his actions.
"For yourself. Yes." The Father slid one of his many credit cards to her. "Get some new trinkets and customize your new phone with it. Also, it'll be a good opportunity for you to take in the sights of this country before we move to Japan for the battle."
The servant toyed around with the plastic card in her hand. "Are you certain...? How much am I allowed to spend?"
The Father placed his hand on her shoulders, turning the French girl towards him. "There is no limit. Buy whatever you wish. I'll get Jeremiah to come over and bring you around. However, there is something I wish for you to know."
The servant removed her Father's arms away from her shoulders.
"Pertaining to the new servant that has been summoned at the northern side of this country?" She clarified. "I felt it too and it was bound to happen. This is a particular servant that has been waiting to enter the chessboard for many years but none of the participants qualified."
"You have the information already?" The Father was pleased. One of the very advantages of having the Judge by his side was that he would be able to pinpoint who had entered the arena.
"A saber classed servant but his choice of master is quite questionable in nature." The servant stood up. "I will get back to you on this issue. It seems that he has a lot of work cut out for him regarding this clueless master he had chosen. Also, I think Jeremiah is at the front door right now."
The Father leaned back against the plush five seater couch. "Very well then, Jeanne. I will leave you to your evening activities. I hope that this city pleases you."
Jeanne D'arc bowed to the church keeper before walking out of his personal office.