The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the work Type-Moon
All character, events, and ideas belong to their original creators
The Bluefire Phoenix Present…
Fate/Crossroads
Chapter 5: A Demon-Haunted World
Wafts of steam filled the bathroom used by Austin's mistress. The water vapor gently soothed the rough edges of exposed charred skin. It still looked creepily raw and exceptionally tender, with plenty of busted blisters exposing raw flesh.
The woman was sitting naked at the center of the chamber. Her breathing was meditative. A glowing blue sapphire was sitting in front of her. There was a mystic sounding chime, bringing the woman out of her trance. A wave of her hand over the sapphire dismissed the steam, revealing the beautiful marble bathroom. She rose to her feet in a graceful motion. The woman exited into a dressing room and wrapped a towel around her torso while a machine hanging above started wrapping her head up in fresh bandages.
It finished rolling the fabric, retracting into the ceiling. The woman left the dressing room into the main corridor. Her bare feet hardly made a sound as she glided down the sterile hallway. She stopped at the door of an airlock. Her delicate fingers elegantly punched in a code into the bizarre number pad.
The door began to retract upward into the ceiling. From the other side stepped out a tall man, draped in a long black cloak held by a large golden pin with a red jewel in the center. His graying hair was elegantly swept back. The man's face was sharp and commanding, yet emanated fatherly warmth.
"Answering your own door now?" The man asked with his brow slightly raised as he entered. His cloak gently towed behind him, revealing the red smoking jacket he wore underneath.
"I'm a little understaffed at the moment, my dear Doctor," the woman answered.
"Yes that blonde girl. What did you say her job was again?"
"She's my page, so to speak. Aide sounds too formal and servant feels…inappropriate. I asked her to stop with the whole mistress nonsense, but she persists in referring to me as such."
"Yes you've mentioned that before. I take it that she is in possession of the Library Aeternum at the moment?" he asked, eyeing her neck with suspicion.
The woman nodded her head. "I'm having her establish an archive for this branch," she explained. The man's brow rose at the statement. The man's lips twitched at her words. "She can handle it and if something arises I can be easily reached to help."
The Doctor still maintained a skeptical expression on his face. His hostess sighed. "Such ancient magic shouldn't be left in the hands of someone so…undertrained," the Doctor explained his problem.
The woman ran her thumb over her finger nails. "She's not doing anything dangerous," the woman assured. The man nodded, folding his arms over his chest.
"Do you think this branch really needs an archive in the Library Aeternum?" the Doctor asked. The woman shrugged her shoulders, moving her left arm across her chest to keep her towel from slipping off.
"Probably not, but we need to learn the best way to create one," the woman explained. The doctor gave the woman an incredulous look, forcing her to take a defensive posture. "I agree that the previous owner would have ignored this branch, but since the place lacks an owner's manual I thought a test run on a less dangerous branch was the best course of action. I'm not in any condition to take on some Elder God and fortunately there doesn't appear to be any such monster lurking here."
The Doctor shook his head before he reached into his cloak and produced a vial filled with a cloudy, silver colored liquid. "Speaking of your condition, I have your order. Tears of a Phoenix, freshly gathered as per your request," he said with a practiced, theatrical flourish of the vial. The mysterious man handed it to the woman. She gently took the vial from his hand and examined it. Her eyes shifted from the strange tears to the Doctor. A distrusting expression emerging from under her bandages.
"Why are you really here? Usually you just send your oh-so-charming daughter," the woman commented. The man rolled his head up a little. He then refocused his attention to the woman.
"I heard a rumor floating around that someone in this region was interested in acquiring a Mana Generator," he said.
"Is that so? Though it is like you to indulge in idle gossip."
The Doctor nodded. "You're right. I usually avoid it, but I find it interesting that the only two people to ever escape the Black Zone happen to be in the same area where such an odd request is thought to have been made," he said.
"Profiling is unbecoming of a gentleman," the woman purred.
The man cocked an eyebrow. "I am merely warning you, my dear. Mana Generators are illegal for a reason. In the wrong hands the can be devastating beyond anything you can possibly imagine."
A slightly indignant frown twitched onto her lips. "I am a mage in my own right, not some apprentice bumbling in the workshop. You don't need to lecture me."
The doctor raised his hands in defense. "Your skill has never been in question. Even so, you are still new to this way of life. I'm only looking out for you."
The woman turned about and started walking down the hall, waving the man goodbye. "Your concern is noted and appreciated. I'll see to it that the rest of your payment is delivered soon. Stop by when you have more time," she said. The Doctor nodded, seeing himself out.
The woman walked through the corridors to her throne room. She entered a code into the keypad different from the one Austin used to access the throne room. The entryway didn't open, instead a floor panel hissed behind her. There was a flight of stairs hidden underneath the panel. The woman let the towel around her torso nonchalantly slip a little as she walked down the stairs.
A large vault made up the room at the bottom of the stairs. It was filled with tons of strange relics and treasures. The woman placed the vial in a cabinet that contained several other vials. Her dainty fingers ran over the collection. She then gently walked over to an overview.
Below her was a huge machine with two massive green growing pylons with a veritable storm of bolts of green energy bridging them together. Near the center of the bridge, seven offshoots landed on seven assorted items. One of the objects started glowing more intensely. The burned woman started to smirk as the object faded back to normal.
She went to a flight of utility stairs and quickly descended to the foot of the strange machine. Her hands gripped the railing as she approached. There was a primitive hatch at the base it. The hatch was the only sign of access to the machine. The woman opened it with a flick of her wrist. A creepy pinkish light illuminated her face.
The woman's fingers started strumming against the railing. "Well it's a good thing that I'm not the wrong hands, isn't it Byron?" she quietly mused. She stuck her hand into the open hatch, unleashing a storm of energy bolts into it. The machine kicked into overdrive creating a massive storm in the chamber.
During her technical two years of preparation for the Holy Grail War, Marisa McNeil had a fear that she might tie in some horrific manner. A fear justified by the occasional explosion she heard in the distance. It was a testament to the impossible size of Library Aeternum. No matter how hard she tried to find another Master, she never could. She had a feeling that someone else had better luck. For occasionally she felt a pair of eyes pierce the foggy silence and fall on her.
The other Masters weren't the threat at moment though. It was Marisa's own Servant! The spirit held the tip of a long silver spear at her throat.
Marisa had summoned a woman; a tall woman at that, standing nearly six feet tall and built like a trueborn warrior. Her black reached down to the middle of her back. Every inch of her face reminded Marisa of a classic Greek statue that came alive. If the Servant's face was artistic pleasure, her body was militaristic pragmatism. Marisa could see toned taut muscles ripple as the woman extended her weapon at her throat.
What clashed with the Mediterranean woman's classic appearance was her outfit. She wore what appeared to be a leotard with a blue bottom section that was covered in white stars and a red upper half topped by what could be described loosely as a highly stylized 'w,' separated by a golden belt. The tiara on her head matched her belt.
Paige Austin, the at best enigmatic overseer of the Grail War, was standing in the corner. She was of course still wearing the same black suit she had used ever since they met. The blonde watched the event with the slightest hint of nostalgia in her green eyes. Then she vanished from the room.
The Servant finally retracted her weapon. "I am Pr…Lancer. Yes, I am the Lancer class for this Grail War and at your command," she said. Despite that moment of hesitation at the start, Lancer's voice extruded a level of confidence and pride that made Marisa shiver.
"Uh…hello?" Marisa said. She took a step forward. The Lancer class was a good Servant, fast and powerful. It would give her an advantage in forming alliances. Yet despite her status and pleasure at the situation, Marisa was quaking. Lancer noticed this with an embarrassed smile.
"Perhaps we should retreat to your base of operations?" Lancer suggested.
Marisa nodded. "I apologize for my initial hostility. I wasn't expecting…this," Lancer admitted as Marisa led her to the little hovel she was using as a base. It was filled with the few tomes Marisa had collected. The woman looked around, moving some things around to make space.
"So do you have a plan?" Lancer asked.
Marisa shrugged. "Yeah to figure—"
She held her thought as she set down a set of books. A handheld radio was sitting on the main table. Marisa tentatively picked it up.
"I take it that's not yours?" Lancer asked. Marisa shook her head no.
"Hello, Marisa," a man said over the radio. Lancer and Marisa exchanged a nervous glance. Marisa went to pick it up. "Don't bother with conversation, this is a prerecorded message. I'll make this brief. You and my Master are in excellent positions. You have a strong grasp of magic and my Master has summoned me. No doubt you have a quality Servant. We'd be interested in forming an alliance with you for the early stages of the War. Should you be interested, I'll be in the main chamber near the exit over the next hour."
The radio went silent. The women exchanged nervous glances. Marisa cleared her throat. "I say we check it out," she said. Lancer cocked an eyebrow. "I'm interested in building an alliance between the Masters. I don't trust this whole set up."
"Why? The Grail War is a sacred rite. One simply cannot 'fake' a war if that is your concern," Lancer insisted.
"Obviously you haven't spent much time with the Overseer. She'll give you the creeps if you aren't paying attention," Marisa grumbled. She started walking towards the exit. "Well are you coming?"
"Of course," Lancer said. She fell in step half a pace behind Marisa.
The pair reached the door out. Marisa looked around the large area. Her vision stopped on a strange figure standing atop one of the smaller bookshelves. The figure was rather lanky, or at least as far as Marisa could tell. It was surrounded by demonic-like cloak. His face was masked in the shadow formed by a hood hung over his head.
A cold stillness over took the chamber. Marisa swore she could hear something rattling just out of sight. Her heart beat was elevated. Lancer was at the ready, her weapon pointing at the figure.
"I'm so glad you came," the figure said. It was clearly a male voice that was dripping with condescension.
"Yes well…I'm the Master of Lancer. We're interested in your alliance offer. I think it will prove a most powerful block," Marisa introduced her team.
"Unfortunately Master of Lancer, your spot has already been filled," the figure said. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Marisa heard something unlock and iron creak.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed around the chamber. Each step was followed by rattling chains. Heavy breathing followed. Lancer had pinpointed where the sound was coming from.
From one of the library's streets came another woman. She wasn't as tall as Lancer but had a similar build. Her right arm was enclosed in a heavy bundle of chains, her left and ankles held by metal cuffs. The bangs that framed her face were held together by blue bands, the rest of her long brown hair was free flowing. Her eyes were glowing white and a scowl of horrific pain was infused on her lips. She wore a blue ensemble that looked like it belonged to a tribal people from a polar region.
The new woman continued to come towards Lancer and Marisa. Her walk was somewhere between a wounded limp and a drunken stumble. She looked up at Lancer and bore her teeth. Her pathetic lumbering became an agile stride as she built up speed before launching herself with a gust of wind at the two.
Lancer pushed Marisa out of the way as the apparent servant prepared to lash at them with a length of chain from her arm. The metallic whip was deflected by Lancer's spear. The new servant created another burst of wind and landed behind Lancer.
The servant threw the chain whip at Lancer again, wrapping up her spear. The two entered a dead lock for the weapon. Lancer's strength was incredible. Her foe began to reel in the spear, looking for some added leverage.
When there was about ten meters between them, the attacking servant dropped to the ground and created a wave of fire with her feet!
Lancer had to jump up in the air to avoid the blast. Her foe recovered fast and yanked hard on her chain. Lancer was pulled forward. She used the momentum to cock back a fist. Her punch was enough to send her foe back at least twenty meters. The chain was released from the spear. Lancer launched forward, plowing the other Servant through a bookshelf.
Marisa was now all alone, the figure having scurried off as the fight broke out. She heard the cocking of a pistol and something pressed against her back. "Hello Fräulein," a man with a heavy German accent said from behind her. Marisa's eyes narrowed.
"So what are you, Servant or Master?" she dryly asked.
"I'm the master of course," the man growled.
"And you feel the need to carry a gun, why exactly?"
"No more questions Fräulein," the man said. Marisa threw up a barrier. It deflected a shot, giving Marisa a window to get away.
"Please, I've spent two years in here and the best you can do is pull that little toy?" she mocked.
The German was a skulking man, hunched over with frazzled brown hair. His brown eyes were twitching just a bit. He aimed the gun at Marisa again. She brought up another barrier, causing the incoming bullet to bounce away.
"Well you seem very skilled at magecraft," the German hissed. "But you'd better hope that Berserker kills your precious Lancer before I kill you."
The shadowy figure from before arrived on the scene. "Unfortunately, Berserker has gone off the edge. We're falling back for now," what must have been the German's Servant commanded. The German mumbled something before throwing down a smoke bomb.
Lancer arrived only seconds later. She was covered in a few scrapes and scratches. "Well that wasn't good," she said.
"No, not at all. What happened to Berserker?" Marisa asked. Lancer shrugged.
"She got bored or something I guess. Personally, I'm now definitely against allying with that guy."
"Agreed, and I think taking him down should be our primary goal. It should be easy to bring in other Masters to stop him," Marisa insisted.
Weeks of hunting later and the woman felt like those words had jinxed her. Her fateful encounter with Saber and his Master turned out to be a bust. That had been Marisa's only other run in with another team. The German had appeared to have slipped her grasp. She was thinking of returning to Earth finally. Her attention was focused on a grimoire while waiting for Lancer to return with a scouting report.
Marisa looked up when she thought she heard papers rustling somewhere not far away. She stood up and looked around. Her eyes landed on a man standing almost thirty meters away. There wasn't much detail she could make out but the man appeared to be dressed like a Catholic priest.
He disappeared after a second. Marisa rubbed her eyes. She was rewarded with an explosive headache. Her hands went to her forehead and she began to claw at the skin.
All she could see was a vision of vicious fire and lightning…
Of burning buildings and corpses...
Of horrifying calamity and death…
Without Lancer's strengthening grasp of her shoulder, Marisa might have been trapped in the hell that was the prison of her mind. "What is it?" the warrior asked.
"I don't know, it was like…like all the evil in the world was just poured into my head and I couldn't turn away from it," I said. I was trying not to break down.
"What happened?"
"I saw a priest I think then…then…then…"
"I'm sorry, let's just drop it. Berserk is in Flagstaff, Arizona. She hasn't done anything yet but it might be wise to move in now," Lancer insisted. Marisa nodded in agreement. The two quickly made it to the exit and entered the sunny late summer of Arizona.
To be Continued...
A/N: This is the corner stone chapter. I think you should be able to put together a more interesting picture of what's going on now. This will be the last chapter with Marisa for a while. We'll be back with Diana next time.
Don't forget to review.