Leo, for all his joking, was too used to silence. Not the empty silence caused by a lack of people, but from what people weren't willing to say. It happened when the Heroes of Olympus fled out of New Rome, and everyone was practically asking for his head on a silver platter. Then, there was the silence that had befallen his... acquaintances after retrieving the Athena Parthenos. Finally, there was his own, when he hid his mad scheme to cheat death from everyone except a precious few.
This was a similar silence, filled with enough tension that would make a pressure cutter envious. The flames crackled in his fingers, while his hair stopped whipping against the force caused by the summoning. His clothes - they were nearly the same ones Calypso weaved for him. The white t-shirt still smelled of that flower garden she used to keep. The suspenders were ones he wore when he was going to work - not the fancy ones with the thin straps and a bowtie.
The last thing he felt before death was his skin going numb as he burned himself alive, the third-degree burns spreading across his skin like light spreading through a sidewalk. Smoke had filled his lungs, and the parts of him that weren't burnt were filled with shrapnel from Octavian's onager blast and glass from Gaea's body. Now, his body was in perfect condition - still scrawny, but without any damage. Some of his scars from living in the streets were still there, but they barely bothered him.
Most of all, he felt strong. There wasn't any sign of muscle growth, but Leo felt like he had the power to knock down a tree with a single punch. The earth beneath his feet had crumbled the second he was summoned. Time seemed to move a bit more slowly, and he was almost tempted to sprint across the hill. Even his fire was more intense, the already white-hot flames changing the cool winter night to the hottest day of summer. His ADHD and Dyslexia - one of the curses and blessings of being a demigod - had disappeared, letting him stay calm for once.
If he was getting his wish after this conflict, he was keeping the perks that came with the body of a Servant when he was brought back to life. To keep all of these advantages would be a panacea to a good chunk of his problems. Leo Valdez ver.2.0 was definitely a keeper.
His Master, not so much.
He was young, almost to the point that Leo had almost mistaken him for an elementary school student. The fact that he lacked in height almost seemed to emphasize this, since even Leo was about an inch or two taller. He had grey eyes and straight black hair, while his facial structure lacked the cheekbones that adults had. He was also thin, up to the point of looking more like a straw or a twig .In fact, if it wasn't for his clothing, Leo would be panicking right now. His dress pants, vest, and tie were too formal for a little kid. In fact, that clothing looked like it was proper for college students rather than a child.
Leo quelled the flame in his hand, stepping forward and offering it to the kid. Though he took it and lifted himself up, the summoner's brain was clearly paralyzed. Taking advantage of that, he looked at his surroundings.
The clearing was surrounded by trees, the grass fresh with dew. A mix of stars and city lights mingled in the sky, and the air was cold with the hint of winter. The ground beneath him was stained with blood, freshly spilled - most of it was used to draw the summoning circle. The fluid was already dried by the flames in his hands, staining the grass into a murky brown. White chicken feathers were spread like small snowflakes. He looked at his feet, and he couldn't help but flinch.
An Archimedes Sphere was right in front of him. It was rusty, the celestial bronze and imperial gold almost indiscernible against the trash in a junkyard. The last time he had seen one of the object in such a state... it wasn't a happy time, to say the least. Hazel and Frank were almost going to get killed by the Eidolons, who had possessed automata that was in a workshop underneath a museum in Rome. Minutes later, Percy and Annabeth had fallen into Tartarus.
He crouched, handling the sphere as if it was radioactive. He sensed many things - the circuits dormant within, buttons and levers still functional despite the centuries that passed by. But also something - a lingering familiarity, like it was a remnant of his own life. His hands grasped the rings around the sphere, and he recalled the code with perfect memory. The words written by Nemesis were practically tattooed into his mind, after all.
YOUR LUCKY NUMBERS ARE: TWELVE, JUPITER, ORION, DELTA, THETA, OMEGA. (WREAK VENGEANCE UPON GAEA, LEO VALDEZ.)
He broke into laughter - one that sounded and felt like he was dying inside. This was the result of defeating Gaea - and he paid the price in so many ways. Saving Hazel and Frank's lives resulted in Percy and Annabeth's near-damnation. Gaia's death, a result of his own. This was the screwed up balance Nemesis had concocted, and it had gone so horribly right. He was almost tempted to tell the goddess to get bent if it wouldn't be so useless. He didn't even get to say a last goodbye to his friends, since they didn't follow him into the sky as he killed Gaea. He never got to see his mother in death because the furies practically dragged him into the River Styx.
Though the gods and their children won the war against Gaia, did it really matter when he wasn't there to see what happened after?
The sphere hummed in his wrist, and he smiled, before turning it off. If there was anything he was happy about, it was the things he was allowed to keep from his past life.
"Are you alright?" He looked at the boy, his surroundings being brought back to the forefront of his mind.
"Sorry," He shook his head and stood up. "I got caught up in my own thoughts. What's your name, young Master?"
The boy hesitated before answering. "Waver Velvet, Professor Archimedes."
He almost had to stop himself from giggling. That... that was just cruel. Not to him, but towards the kid. He had been expecting the great Mathematician of Syracuse, the inventor that single-handedly held off the Roman Empire with his inventions. Leo didn't know if he even had a legend, or if he got into the Throne of Heroes out of sheer merit. For all he knew, he might be the strongest servant out there, or the weakest one.
It seemed he must let Waver down easy. Though it would hurt the Master's pride, letting such a mistake to fester would be disastrous in the long term. No communication kills, after all.
"I'm sorry Master Velvet, but you've mistaken me for someone else. I am not Archimedes."
There was the shock he expected. While it seemed the boy was paralyzed once again, he was surprised to find that his tool belt was with him. He focused on the image of it - and the item appeared in his hand. He strapped it around his waist, and reached into one of the pockets.
"I need a house painting brush, a pair of gloves, a Tupperware container, and rust converter." He ordered the tool belt, and the items flew in his hand.
"Wait Rider," Waver Velvet said. "If you answered my summons through the artifact, and you're not Archimedes, then what Heroic Spirit are you?"
"One that has a stronger claim to the artifact. One who actually bothered to use them rather than leaving them to rust." He put on the gloves, before pouring the rust converter into the Tupperware, making sure it didn't spill into the grass or on his clothes. "After all, Archimedes is known for pi, and the circles related to his work. I am probably known for weaponizing the schizo tech he left behind."
He dipped the brush into the rust converter before passing it over the sphere. The rust trickled away, revealing the bronze and gold beneath. He smiled and put the sphere on the ground, letting the grass dry the liquid's remains.
"So Master, while I'm sorry to disappoint, you'll have to manage with me." He put a lid on the container, making a mental note to dump out the liquid and recycle the container later.
Waver Velvet stared at him with a mix of apprehension and curiosity - a look he was quite familiar with, sadly. He'd seen it on parents who were considering him for adoption, only to reject him at the last second. If it wasn't for the fact that he was the boy's only option, Leo was sure he would've been traded for another. Though that hurt what little ego he had, he knew it was true. He was a mystery Servant, a wild card compared to the other heroes who answered the call. If summoning a Servant was like pulling a card from a deck, summoning Leo was like pulling the crank of a slots machine while blindfolded.
Then the boy nodded, and the tension in his shoulders disappeared. "All right. Though this was unexpected, I believe you deserve a chance. I mean, you probably didn't expect to be summoned by someone who doesn't know who you are."
"Thank you, Master." He gave a flirty grin, trying to seem confident. "Now, I would love to learn a little more about yourself, and how you got my artifact."
This was honestly just routine for Leo. He'd done it a few times - usually to sucker up to those who were in the higher social circles. Jokes were just one of the many tools to get people to like him - flirting was the second one to go to when he didn't have the right material. Since this was the only relationship he had at the moment, along with the most important one, it would be a boon to keep it friendly.
"After all, you must have be very clever if you managed to retrieve one of the spheres of Archimedes." He pulled out the sphere, turning it on again before setting it to levitate by his side.
The boy blushed and scratched the back of his head, though he noted the blush wasn't caused by fluster. Though it was there, he could tell the boy was ashamed of something.
"I'm - I was a student at the Clock Tower. My bloodline, honestly, isn't one of the most prestigious ones. I sold everything I have to get tutelage inside the institute." Waver's blush intensified, but Leo could tell this one was from regret.
"So you were a student of that organization. Does that mean you graduated," he frowned. "Or that you were expelled?"
"Actually, I don't know if I was officially expelled," His Master's eyes looked at the floor. "I stole your artifact from my teacher - right before he was supposed to receive it."
A small chuckle slipped out of Waver, though the boy's posture told him that he was expecting disapproval. If it wasn't for the fact that Leo had stolen food in the past, he would have already scolded the man.
"Tell me, Waver, was that guy a jerk?"
There was a pause, before Waver nodded. "Yes, he was. Though at least, not in the way that you think."
"My thesis was that despite generations of magic circuits, those who have lower blood lines still have the chance to match them if they improved in their personal skills." Leo could taste the anger in his Master's voice, "When it was time to announce the grades, he did a posturing for a while, and concentrated on my essay."
Waver's hands formed into fists. "He tore it apart in front of my entire class. He mocked me, and destroyed what was months of my work."
Leo could agree, somewhat. He'd known how it felt to have everything you worked for torn apart, to slave away for hours and with nothing to show. He'd seen it with his mom, whose job applications were rejected by misogynists, racists, or nepotism. When Zeus punched his ship so hard it flew to Camp Half-Blood, his heart sank despite the fact that it provided the perfect smokescreen for his plan. Though part of him felt like Waver was overreacting, he could understand why Waver stole the artifact.
"Okay, yes, he sounds like an asshole. But if he was a professor in the Clock Tower, how did you get away with stealing my artifact?"
Waver scratched the back of his head, a guilty look that was followed by a roguish grin. "Would you believe it was because I stumbled across the delivery boy?"
At that, Leo laughed. It wasn't like the one before, where it felt like he was just venting at whatever was inside him. The very image was hilarious, almost to the point that it was absurd. He could easily imagine his Master basically nudging the deliver boy as they walked in a hall, before quickly grabbing the package in his hands and running like hell. It was only the frown in Waver's face that stopped him, though there was the tiniest twitch in his lips. He hadn't laughed like that in a long, long time. He was always the one making the jokes - and it was pretty hard to find something that would make him laugh. Nobody ever thought to return the favor - which was a bit sad, to be honest.
"Now, care to return the favor? If you aren't Archimedes, you should at least tell me about where and when you were from."
His laughter stopped, and he fiddled with an imaginary beard before shrugging. There would be no harm in giving away this bit of information - and he thought Waver wouldn't believe in such a notion. The sheer possibility of summoning a Heroic Spirit from the future, especially one from an alternate dimension, almost verged into the impossible.
"Master, what year is it?"
"Nineteen ninety-four. Why do you ask?"
A part of him cursed - of course he would get summoned in the nineties. Though he had no bones to pick against the movies made during that time aside from Titanic, it was the age where a good chunk of modern pop culture still wasn't there yet. J.K. Rowling still hadn't published Harry Potter. The Nintendo Sixty-Four wasn't available until two years in the future. And the U.S. had screwed up with the Rodney King trial two years ago. All the good anime wouldn't be made until later, and he was sure there was no Cartoon Network in Japan.
"Nothing, nothing. It's just, I'm from the United States. Houston, Texas, if you want the specifics."
He honestly didn't remember that much about the city. Most of his life was centered around the apartment complex he lived in with his mom, and the warehouse she worked in. After that, he was practically a pinball, tossed around the machine that was the entire United States. Florida, California, Washington, New York, and Montana. He was probably the only person out of the Heroes of Olympus that actually lived in all fifty states, though he wasn't exactly in them for sight seeing.
"As for when I was alive... I actually won't be alive for a few years."
"WHAT?!"
In the distance, a few birds scattered.
"Yeah. Impossible by all definitions? Yes, technically. But hey, now that I think about it, that means I'm actually quite strong as a Servant." He definitely wouldn't be mentioning the fact that he was from a world where the Greco-Roman Pantheon was still around, along with all its nasty creatures.
Though the Holy Grail couldn't give the true names of every servant, it could give out a list of possible Servants. He knew Nikola Tesla was somewhere inside the Throne, and that guy was named the father of electricity. Edison, even though he mimicked Tesla's designs, was also in there. And he would find it silly if the Throne somehow ignored Simo Häyhä - the man had practically scared off the entire Soviet Russian Army with his skills as a sniper.
"But how?!" Waver pointed at his face. Leo was almost tempted to swat away the finger. "You, by all rights, shouldn't even be inside the Throne at the moment! Is this artifact so important to you that you were able to override time and space?!"
"Yes." He answered carelessly.
That artifact was extremely important. He had rescued it from being locked away for thousands of millennia. The spheres he created from the scrolls left behind by Archimedes were the most useful weapons he ever made. Hell, they were influential towards rebuilding Festus and developing his ship's defenses. If Waver had received a different artifact, like one of the mirrors the mathematician used to defend Syracuse, then perhaps things would be different.
But when one makes a deal with a goddess... well, screw ownership and copyright. Divine pride and honor was more important in the eyes of the gods.
The blunt answer brushed away his Master's anger. He rubbed his fingers against his temples. Leo felt a bit of satisfaction at that - not out of pure sadism, but because it felt familiar - like a few of the times he had done so in the Argo II to raise morale. If somebody had the willpower to get annoyed at one of his corny jokes that meant they were going to be alright. When no one groaned, it meant something serious was going on inside their heads.
"Now, care to show me to your workshop? Or would you prefer to wine and dine me first?" He winked just for good measure, the Archimedes sphere and tossing it into his tool belt.
The blush in Waver's cheeks made him feel better - not for the sake of someone finally responding in a good way to his flirting, but it meant that his mask still worked. If he could still hide his emotions, then the war would be much easier to win.
"Fine. But my workshop isn't exactly the best of the best, if you must know." The Master turned away, crossing his elbows.
He smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed. "It doesn't matter. I think I'm pretty good at handling new places."
Waver tried to return the gesture, before he started to walk out of the clearing. Though Leo knew that there was something the Master was hiding, he dropped the matter. If there was anything he wanted to do at the moment, is that he wanted to freaking eat. Not the fonzies and brownies he had in the Argo II, but a real, actual meal. Being turned into a Servant had amplified most of his senses - including a sense of hunger.
He followed, but not before looking at the sky. The constellations here were different, the sky was a darker blue. The moon itself didn't shine the bright silver he knew - it was a mix of grays and whites, and it looked more like a messed up chocolate chip cookie than anything. He still remembered the sky back in the states - whether it was filled with clouds, or crystal clear like tonight, he always felt like there was something watching him from above. This one felt empty, almost like he was looking at a void.
Like a good chunk of children, he had read the various myths that were displayed in libraries - before he knew an entire pantheon was hidden from the world. He read about Ra and his sun boat, fighting off Apophis every day to spare the world from the serpent of chaos. There was Skoll and Hati, the wolves who would eat the sun and moon when Ragnarök came around. And finally, there was Apollo and Artemis - both which he was personally acquainted with.
This world had been abandoned by those legends - the Age of Man was fully established. There was no Calypso, waiting in Ogygia. No demigods or monsters roaming in a world hidden behind The Mist. This world was a part of the supernatural - but without everything that had influenced Leo's life for better and worse.
In those few seconds, when he looked at an empty sky, Leo Valdez never felt so alone.
He honestly hadn't answered the call because of his master's stoic pleas. He was so tempted to say 'screw you' and not answer the call, giving himself more time to sulk. If it wasn't for the fact that something had nudged him here, he would have let someone else answer the call. He couldn't fix the past, no matter what happened - it would be pointless to even participate in a conflict that offered a so-called wish.
He was too familiar with this term, to deal with the devil. He had made one, believing his wish could be granted, and caused so much destruction. Countless lives were lost - familiar faces and strangers, allies and enemies. He was responsible for a massacre - and there was no way to clean the blood that had stained his hands to the point that it never faded. What would be the point of joining this conflict if it meant causing more death? Surely the Holy Grail was another devil - and he had no mind to sign such a contract.
So why join the Holy Grail War? Perhaps it was the faint hope that still lingered inside him, like a flame refusing to burn out despite having no fuel. Perhaps it was his own morals, regardless of what he stood to gain. Despite all his sins, he still believed that there was something good he could do. Or perhaps it was his own pride - someone was trying to summon him, and if there was anything he was going to do, he was going to do it right.
Probably a mix of the three.
Regardless, he was summoned, and that was all that mattered. He was here now, and he would try to do an upstanding job all the same.
The process was painful, yet energizing. His body felt like it was forming, molecule by molecule, into what he once was. First it was his bones - starting from the center of his rib cage to his head and the tips of his toes. It felt like someone was trying to make the entire skeletal system out of play-dough, but with the skill and the eye of an artist. Then came his organs - his heart and mind were the first to form, followed by his stomach and lungs, and so on. His muscles formed, supporting everything inside him with inhuman strength. Next were the cosmetics - his skin, hair, nails, and the five senses.
Finally, his clothes - a black monk robe that covered his entire body, its insides woven with some sort of body armor that was cold to the touch. The mask of a jester, in appeared on his face, disguising his appearance. For some reason, it felt appropriate to cover his face, as if hid an old shame that no one ever wanted to see.
He was expecting to appear feet first on whatever type of floor the summoner had used as a medium. He was confident he would land on his feet, and greet his Master with the standard introduction.
He wasn't expecting to pop up several feet in some sort of living room. Gravity took hold, faster than his consciousness could form, and he barely felt anything. Only the sound of breaking would actually told him that he had crashed on something. He sluggishly picked himself up, noting his surroundings. Most of it radiated luxury, with walls painted a pale brown, and dark red curtains covering large windows. The chairs and - what was probably once a table, considering he was still in its crater - were made out of elm wood.
From the size of the room, he could tell he was in some sort of mansion. Flickers of information passed through his mind - dates, location, the current political climate, and what he was involved in. It blurred like an electric current, and he almost had to clutch his head due to the mental pressure such knowledge exerted. Something must've gone wrong when he was summoned, since a proper summoning wouldn't give off such a headache.
However, his situation seemed even more precarious since he didn't have all of his memories. He couldn't remember names and faces, but he did recall emotions. That sense of regret was chiseled into his soul, though he didn't know its source. All that he remembered was that this was some form of penance. Retribution for something he had done in the past.
He didn't know where he was, so he decided to stay put, rearranging the destroyed table so it was a bit more comfortable for him to lie on. It wasn't long before the sound of footsteps got louder. He closed his eyes and straightened his back, acting like he had meant to crash-land in this position. He arranged his face so it was in a cocky smirk. The footsteps got closer, and stopped for a single second. A doorknob twisted, and then he opened his eyes.
He was looking at three men. Each one was unique, not only in their clothing, but in the way they carried themselves.
The one leading the group was covered in golden armor from head to toe, all of it reflecting the light from the ceiling. To match his armor, he had golden, spiky blond hair that seemingly reached upwards. His skin was fair, while his face was stoic and stark, reminding him of a desert. His eyes were a dark blood red, a color that made him wary for some reason. This man looked at him as if he was nothing more than a bug to stomp under his heel.
The other one was handsome in a mature way, his posture radiating elegance and poise. His black hair was styled so that if fell symmetrically towards each side of his face, with the bangs going forward but not covering his blue eyes. He even had a neatly trimmed goatee, and his expression radiated confidence but without the arrogance it had as company. He wore a red velvet suit with a black tie and white undershirt, and he had a staff in one hand.
The last one... the last one was empty. Almost like he was hollow, almost to the point that he was dead inside. Though most probably couldn't perceive such a notion, there was a familiarity with this state of being, as if he had seen it before. He short brown hair, the bangs almost touching his black eyes. He wore simple, dark purple vestments, along with a golden cross around his neck. Out of all, he was the most unassuming, but there was a hidden sharpness to his figure, like a sheathed knife.
"So this is the Servant we're allied with, Tokiomi?" The golden man spoke.
The man in red flinched for a second before correcting his posture. "Of course, your Highness."
"Hmph. The mongrel doesn't seem like much. Are you sure this is a fitting Servant for your apprentice?"
This made anger stir inside him like a boiling cauldron, but he restrained himself. It was too early in the war to start a conflict against the first Servant he met. Especially when it seemed they were planning to make an alliance. He would find a more subtle way to get back at the King later.
"Either way, we have no choice. You have answered the call," Tokiomi's eyes turned towards him. "And there's no way to replace you. Servant, what is your class name?"
For a moment, there was just a blank before it appeared in his head. Then the name flew out of his mouth before he even registered it.
"Assassin."
He quickly genuflected, and he quickly tried to summon a weapon - any weapon - to at least make him seem more respectable. What surprised him was something did appear - a rather intricate sword, though he didn't know where it's design came from. It was a shiny bronze that gleamed against the warm light of the mansion. For some reason, it felt like a taboo to even wield the weapon, as if it was from a museum or cursed in some form. He quickly stabbed it into the floor so as to make it seem as if he had already known his own name and weapon. He stared at the third man, before asking a single question.
"What is your name, Master?"
The man directly looked at him, and he was reminded of that hollowness. Despite the warm light coming from every direction, none of it gleamed against his eyes. Whatever spark there was - if there even was such a thing in the first place - was extinguished, though he did not how. He vowed in greeting - one arm in front with the other one in the back - before uttering the name that would define his tenure as a Servant.
"Kotomine Kirei."
