Disclaimer: This chapter mentions way too many diseases. I do not know why. I just ended up including them for some reason. Maybe I watched too many episodes of House while writing this?
Chapter 2- Foxey Lady
A gasp comes from the boy's corner. It's kind of amusing he didn't expect his Servant to show up. Probably means he's new to this sort of thing. My eyes readjust to the room's lighting and I'm finally able to take notice of our new 'guest'. It takes only a quick glance to realize the figure that had appeared was that of a girl's. She has blonde hair that is tied up in some type of bun with a red ribbon. The clothing she wears is strange to say the least. She's wearing a red and white dress with gold trim. The red matches the red of a rose, while the white is like that of pure snow.
On her shoulders she has what seem to be epaulettes. They don't really match the dress. She seriously needs a new fashion designer. For shoes she has high heels. It seems she also has some type of armored shin guard on her legs too. A useless place for armor. Especially when considering it's the only protection her outfit provides. The most absurd part of her attire is the fact that her dress has see-through sections that show a portion of her back and rear. Now that I think about it, maybe that's why the kid gasped.
She slowly turns around to face me. Her eyes are a bright shade of green. Like that of a jade statue. Or an emerald jewel. Her expression is questioning but the smile on her lips can almost be called an arrogant smirk. It gives me two distinct impressions of her. The first, that she's just as confused by this as the boy. The second, she's going to be a pain in the ass to handle. Looking at her hair again, I realize she has something the Japanese call an ahoge. Or, in the language of my fellow foreigners, a cowlick. Oh and remember how her dress actually shows off her ass? Well the front does too. Even more so than the back. The entire front of her dress is translucent. To the degree that I can see her underwear. Panty shots for days.
"I ask of you, are you my Master?" She says this as if she's asking a rhetorical question. As if my answer doesn't matter. Apparently she hasn't noticed the dude in the corner. Or maybe she's trying not to notice him? On account of him pissing his pants. Is this considered child neglect?
"A … woman? Where's Caesar?!" Her eyes widen in confusion at the question. Or perhaps she's confused because she just realized there's a little kid in the corner.
"I'm your Master." I ignore the Matou's question, instead focusing on the Servant's. It's easy to say. If I don't go along with this she'll probably kill me. That moment of confusion is gone from her expression, and replaced with one of acceptance. She bought it so easily. Granted there wasn't any reason for her to object. The only other option for her Master was a child. Said child chose that time to offer some valid commentary to the situation.
"You dick! You can't just do that!" He says this with more venom than a rattlesnake's bite. Unfortunately for him, I could. Quite easily actually. On account of one simple fact. I was a Master also.
The image of a fasces had carved itself onto my upper back two months ago. It was divided into three pieces. That of the fasces itself, a bundle of wood with an axe sticking out of the side. Along with a laurel wreath, divided into two sections and surrounding the fasces in all its glory. How do I know what it looks like when it's on my back? Simple. Four uncomfortable hours trying to look at it in the mirror. At first I thought I had some weird skin rash. Mainly because all I could make out was some bleeding and a bunch of red lines. It took me a while to realize I could just take a picture of my back and look at that for reference, and then after that I'd practically fainted at the revelation. I'd probably been among the first chosen to partake in this bloodbath. I just hadn't summoned a Servant. Didn't really want to. Looks like I didn't have the choice anymore.
The moment I'd declared myself to be her Master the Command Spell had started burning. To the point where I would assume I was on fire if not for the sheer illogical nature of such an assumption. Oddly there was no pain. Simply warmth. It signaled something had occurred. "Hot damn! That actually worked?!" I bust out in a fit of laughter.
"You bastard! I'll kill you for this!" And the kid starts screaming threats and obscenities my way. I'm really questioning where a little boy learned all of these words. Aw, who am I kidding? The Internet exists for a reason. Our third wheel, the girl, looks so terribly confused now. I can tell her brain's trying so desperately hard to understand this odd situation.
Well I suppose I could be a gentleman and explain what the hell is going on, buuuut. I kind of want to have a little insurance first. "I'm your Master right?"
She looks at me in a perplexed manner, like a deer caught in the headlights. Her train of thought was probably derailed more than a few times. "Mmm… sure?"
A smirk found itself plastered across my face. "Contract complete?" She just nodded, glancing at the blue haired boy. I could tell she was questioning who her Master was really was. She's so perplexed that if the kid had actually objected with a coherent argument she might have actually listened to him.
Luckily he's acting like a total brat. By this I mean he's essentially throwing a temper tantrum on the floor, tears streaming down his face and all. It's quite a pathetic sight. Not that pleasant on the ears as well. He's screaming about how it isn't fair, and how I need to do something to myself that's quite anatomically impossible. So of course I do something that any responsible adult would do in a similar situation. I pistol whipped the sonofabitch.
Oh I can already hear the complaints. How could you do something so awful?! He's only a little boy! Think of the children! Shut the hell up. He smells of piss and his tears were getting my boots wet. And besides, it was a great sacrifice to smash the grip of my handgun on his face. It's now covered in snot and blood. That's not cool, man.
"Hey can you cart this guy out of here. I don't want to touch him. He kind of smells."" I point at the boy for emphasis. She looks down at the boy's unconscious form. Then she looks back up at me. Her hands go to her hips. Oh jeez, that's never a good sign.
"No." Straight to the point I see. Well at least she's not tossing any flowery language my way about how I was a monster for hurting little kids. I would have had to shot him just to prove a point. That point being that I'm actually being nice to the little man.
"Well I'm not going to pick him up, I might get a disease or something." Can't be too sure. He could have syphilis. Or cooties. Definitely don't want cooties.
"I am not picking up a child that defecated himself." You cannot be serious. He couldn't have shit … correction the smell just hit me. What the hell man. What the hell. Not just number one, but number two as well. There better not be some secret number three that ends up coming out next. I'll just decide to cleanse it all in a purifying flame if that happens.
"Eh, just throw him out the window. I don't want to have to carry him down the stairs." Perhaps I was too convincing with this deadpan line, as she actually goes to follow through with my request. "I was joking."
She frowns at me. "I cannot see the humor." Oh great, I summoned a critic. I sigh and look down at the kid. He stirs a little, but remains in his comatose state. Maybe I can roll him down the stairs? It'll take longer to get out of here, but I won't have to touch him.
The Heroic Spirit just watches me. That's somewhat rude of her. It's impolite to stare. I nudge the kid with my foot. Unfortunately he doesn't wake up. "What class are you?"
She blinks owlishly at the question, clearly wondering what I'm up to. "Saber." Wow, that's beyond perfect. Not only did I steal the kid's Servant, but I stole the supposed strongest class of Servant from him. Suck on that punk.
"You got a sword or something?" Or something. She pulls out this twisted corruption of what a sword should be. It's a crimson color, and looks far too impractical to be of much use. Screw it, if it's sharp I can use it.
"Can you cut a circle around him?" There's an unasked question in her eyes. She doesn't bother to ask, instead humoring my ridiculous request. Halfway through the circle and she's realized what my plan is. It's not as bad as tossing him out the window but it's still pretty bad. For him, not for me. I stomp down hard on the floor before she can stop slicing through the wood. Of course it's old and unstable. Of course it's not going to support the kid's weight. Of course he's going to plummet to the ground floor, leaving a nice new hole behind where there was once wooden floorboards.
I clap my hands together as if I'm dusting them off. "Well then that's taken care of. Let us be off." I strut out of the room without waiting for a response. She follows without a word. "Oh wait, almost forgot!" Then there's the awkward moment in which I have to go back into the room. Safe to say she looks a little peeved at me as I hastily push my way past her. What have I forgotten? Well the answer to my first question. Is it human blood or not?
One floor licking later and I have an answer. "Nope, that's definitely pig's blood. Which means I might not become hepatitis positive after all." That's an important thing to be grateful for. I take notice of another necessary component of the summoning circle. No not the priceless jewels scattered around. Those are worthless. I'm talking about the catalyst. It's still in the middle. Surrounding it is a bunch of Satanic looking runes that probably would be more fitting in a secret Bilderberg conference. Or at a frat party. Such is the summoning circle, a cross between a kindergarten's doodles and a devout follower of Baphomet's sickening art. Though I'm getting off topic. Squiggly lines interest me far too much.
Regardless of the circle itself, the catalyst is actually really boring. I'd expected something cool, preferably decorated in all sorts of bling. Instead it's just a rusty, dull dagger. Unless it's made from the fang of a dragon or something it's pretty bland in my opinion. "This. This is what summoned a famed hero of legend?" What a total rip off. Regardless, I still steal it. Carefully pocketing the dagger to avoid getting tetanus. You know the old saying, "Finders, keepers. Losers, weepers." Hey, despite it being seemingly useless I can still probably use it later to distinguish my new Servant's identity. Oh heck, who am I kidding? I'm totally planning on turning it into some sort of back scratcher.
I ignore the distastefully expression on my companion's face. She looks like she wants to protest my theft, or perhaps she wants to protest how I pushed my way pass without so much as an "excuse me". Depends really on how messed up her moral code is. Of course I pretty much brush her aside. I don't have time to deal with petty squabbling. There's an unconscious little kid waiting for me. Shiiiiittttt. That sounded so wrong.
The journey throughout the house is one filled with tension. I can feel her slowly edge herself closer to me, as if she's waiting for me to make a wrong move. I can also feel her slowly inch her way into my mind through the mental link we now share. She's doing it in a way she probably finds discrete. Though subtlety's not something you can really have while forcing your way into someone's head. I do my best to block her out, and instead focus on not stubbing my toe in the dark corridors of this mansion. Of course I'm also trying to figure out where the kid must have landed. Though that's a side project right now. Not stubbing my toe is priority.
Eventually we stumble across him. Or rather I trip over him and smash my face into the floor. Ah karma, we meet again old friend. Saber does her best to stifle a laugh. I don't really blame her, if the tables were turned I'd certainly be chuckling at her expense. Somehow the boy's still not awake. I kind of hope I didn't put him into a coma. That would be inconvenient. Speaking of inconvenient, I'm probably going to have to carry him out of here now. You know what? No. I'm going to drag him out. That way I don't have to worry about getting any filth on me.
Saber doesn't even see fit to comment on this. I'm betting she's trying desperately to come to terms with this situation. Hey, at least I've given her the most memorable summoning she's ever had. That's something to consider.
We're out the gate and at my van before she speaks. I open the back of it and let go of the kid. I'm going to have to pick him up to get him into the van. Why me? "What is going on?" There's a moment in which I speculate ignoring her, but I brush the idea aside. It wouldn't be wise to keep her in the dark forever. She'd probably assume I was some weird child molester or something. Goddamn this van. For a moment there's no words shared between us. I don't know how to begin my tale, and I don't know how she'll react to any of it. The unknown is something I'd rather avoid. So I suppose it's best to start simple.
"Dante." The silence if broken. A perplexed expression forms on her face. I answer the unasked question. "It's best if I introduce myself first. The name's Dante, Dante Di Prinzi." I hold out my hand for her to shake. "Just Dante would be preferable."
For a brief moment she looks at my hand as if it were a snake coiled and waiting to bite. It's obvious she's suspicious, I'd be surprised if she weren't. That look of hers fades though, and it's replaced with a smile. Not the reaction I was expecting, but not something I can find fault with. "You may call me Saber."
Her hand grasps my forearm instead of the palm of my hand. I do the same in order to match her, then we shake. Once, twice, three times. It's stiff and awkward, but it's still a signal of camaraderie. "You learn that from Hollywood?"
She frowns at me. "What?"
"The forearm shake. I'm pretty sure they didn't do that in Ancient Rome."
Her hands go to her hips. "How would you know anything about Roma?"
I frown at her. "I've read a few books. What about you?" She stands there in complete silence. The look on her face is identical to that of a child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar. It dawns on me what she's just exposed. "Wow, you're Roman."
She looks at me sheepishly for a second, clearly embarrassed she revealed such an important piece of trivia. But it passes just as quickly. Replaced by a look of pure pride. "Yes, I am Roma. For Roma is everything that is good in the world." This line is said with such nationalistic fervor that it'd make Mussolini blush like a schoolgirl. I can't help but break out in a fit of laughter. It's apparently an unexpected response, as she again widens her eyes in confusion.
"Wow, you're a total ham."
She frowns at this, but before she can protest the apparent insult I move closer to her. Instead of backing away she meets my challenge by getting closer to me. We end up in each other's face. It's not comfortable, in fact it's incredibly awkward, but to back off would be to admit defeat. I scan over her face, quietly examining her features for any indication as to who she is. I can't come up with a good conclusion. The blonde hair and ridiculous dress really throw me off.
Which means one thing. She was most likely formed as a representation of what her legend embodied. Meaning, it's going to be hard to determine who she is just from appearance. That has its pros and cons. It means it'll be hard for the enemy to guess who she is. But it also means I won't be able to figure her out without her telling me who she is. Or without me figuring out the significance of her catalyst. Though the condition it's in might make that easier said than done. Regardless it's not that important at the moment. I have to drop this kid off someplace safe.
I grab aforementioned child, one hand gasping a foot and one grasping an arm. "Alley-oop!" I then proceed to literally toss him into the back of the van. An audible groan is his reply. Good to see he's not in a coma, or dead. I start walking to the passenger's side. "Can you close the back for me?" Saber does it without comment. "I'll explain everything on the ride over." I open the door for her.
"Where are we going?"
A smirk pops up on my face. "To register."
She looks uneasy. "At the church?"
Well clearly she's not Constantine. "Where else?"
There's a moment of hesitation before she gives in. "Very well, but you shall explain everything. I'm especially curious as to why you're toting around this child." A harsh glare is sent my way, a wordless threat of violence. Good to see she doesn't view those who hurt children in a positive light. It means we have similar values. Wait, shit. I almost forgot I bashed him across the face like ten minutes ago. Damn, I suppose I fit the 'those who hurt children' description. Well I kind of had a reason. Not a good one, but it was a reason nonetheless.
"I'll tell you everything I know." I say this as if it's the most serious thing in the world. The look on my face probably appears to be a mix of brooding and constipated. Then I do something ridiculous. I hold out my pinky. "Pinky promise."
She looks at the finger. She looks at me. Then she looks at the finger again. "Mmm…" She bites her lower lip. Clearly she's debating whether or not she should participate in the sacred ritual that is the pinky promise. Finally she caves. Her pinky finger entwines with mine in the same way a child's would. "Promise?"
I do something unexpected. Something I probably shouldn't do. It definitely breaches her bubble. I grasp her chin in my other hand and lift her head up so she'll look me in the eyes. It's awkward enough considering our height difference. She's really, really short. Not quite a circus midget, but she's not going to grab anything off of the top shelf anytime soon. "Promise."
She breaks into a wide, toothy grin. "Very well! Your oath is complete." That grin morphs into a warped smile just as fast. "Break it, and I shall break you."
I can only nervously chuckle. "Deal." She climbs into the van with enthusiastic glee. I'm in the driver's seat before she can even close her door. "You should buckle up." I've already done so. Now I'm glancing at my passenger who has her arms crossed in front of her chest.
She pouts at me. Of all the things. She pouts. "I don't want to." The hell did you just say to me? For a hilarious second I imagine wasting a Command Spell to order her to buckle up. But it's just a thought. Instead I rub my temple in exasperation and start the car.
We're on the road for maybe ten seconds before she starts talking. "Explain. Now." It's an order. For some reason it makes me want to do the opposite. I fight the urge to piss her off. I made a promise after all.
"I tackled the kid to the ground and terrified him enough so that he pissed himself." There's a palpable feeling of dread in that van. Almost as if in saying that sentence my fate had been sealed.
"Why?" The look she's giving me could melt steel beams better than jet fuel.
"Uh, carpe diem?" I almost swerve into oncoming traffic when she lunges for me. She shaking my shoulders in frustration.
"This is no time for comedy! You said you'd explain things?!" I have to focus completely on the road in order to avoid crashing into a lamppost. Unfortunately she takes it as me ignoring her. "Does an oath mean so little to you? Oath breakers are the vilest types of men!" All I can do is haphazardly slap at her hands with one hand, while I try to steer with the other.
"Cut it out woman! We're going to die!" This snaps her out of her behavior. Just in time for her to look out the windshield and notice the semi heading straight for us. I pull hard to the right in order to avoid a collision. Shit, I'll stop saving 15% or more if my insurance company hears I was playing chicken with Optimus Prime.
The trucker continues to honk his horn at us even as he soars past. Clearly he's not happy with my shenanigans. Or should I say my Servant's shenanigans. I glare at the short woman next to me. "Can't you take a joke?"
She actually has the nerve to pout at me. "Calling that a joke would be a disservice to the great comedies of Roma. Now answer my question."
I can only give in. "He's the Matou representative. Or at least I think he is." I briefly look over the seat and at the still unconscious child. There's at least three different fluids coating his face. It's super disgusting.
"It was supposed to be a woman. Someone a little younger than me." I can't help but sigh, mainly at the unlucky turn in events. "As you can see that wasn't the case. I should have confirmed the target before running in like an idiot, but I panicked because he'd finished that damned mantra." This night was a clusterfuck. I can only be thankful that I stopped the kid from becoming a Master. I just wish I didn't have to take his place in order to do it. Regardless, it's one less Servant I have to worry about.
Granted this does make it possible for him to summon another. If I had let him claim Saber she would have been the last Servant summoned, as I wouldn't have summoned one of my own. Then that would have turned the entire war upside down. Everyone would have probably tried to track down the mysterious seventh Master who refused to summon a Servant. Just to get the war started. I would have had to be on the defensive. It would have essentially become a high stakes game of hide and seek. Instead it was now going to follow the traditional route. Everyone trying to kill one another. Dammit. This means everything I planned for just went out the window. Instead of making them come to me I'm going to have to track them down individually. Which probably means we're just going to wing it.
"Mmm, does that mean he's my Master?" From the corner of my eye, I notice Saber glancing at the boy with an expression of concern on her face.
"Technically he's your summoner, I guess. I'm your partner." I felt her eyes on me as I focused on my driving.
"Partner?"
I frown a little at the question. "I wouldn't want to call anyone 'Master', why should I ask a living legend to do so?"
I don't know how she reacts to this sentiment. I'm not paying attention to her. Or rather, I'm actively avoiding looking at her. "Very well, I will allow you to be my partner." She lightly punches my shoulder.
I can't help but smirk at her response. "Allow me?"
A soft chuckle escapes her lips. "You are contracted to me. Therefore I suppose that does make us equals."
I can't help but chuckle as well. "Is that so? You certainly had me fooled. You know, with how you were calling me a BDSM term?"
Her laughter abruptly stops, and there's a moment of silence between us. "What is this 'BDSM'?"
My chuckling erupted into a hearty laugh. "You don't know?! But you're Roman!"
Even without looking at her I can tell she's giving me a nasty glare. "What does being Roman have to do with it?"
That just makes me laugh even more. Holy shit, I can feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes. She has to understand, with an outfit like that how can she not? "Cease this laughter at once. Continue your story, Praetor." I let the title she's apparently given me slip, instead I focus on the suggestion she's given me. Well, suggestion is too lenient for what it really is. It's a command. Something I'm not used to hearing, especially from someone who looks like a sorority member. And that's probably why I ignore it. Instead laughing at her even more. She starts to shout at me, taking me laughter as an insult. "It is not that funny! Stop laughing at me!"
I manage to reply in between fits of giggles. "I'm not laughing at you. Just at everything in general." I glance at her from the corner of my eye just in time to see her perplexed expression. It just makes me laugh even more.
It continues for about ten more seconds before I finally quiet down. "Thanks." I practically mumble this to her.
"What for?"
At this I start smirking again. "I needed that." She doesn't understand what I mean. Or maybe she just doesn't know how to respond. Either way it leads us to even more awkward silence. Silence that I eventually interrupt by clearing my throat. "Anyway, I should probably tell you the rest."
"Yes, I think that would be a good idea. I am especially curious as to why you decided to steal a Master's servant." Surprisingly there isn't a harsh edge to her words. I expected her to be furious at the realization that I'd essentially attacked her Master.
Regardless, she does have a good question. "I didn't really decide that. It was kind of split decision type of thing."
I hear her shift in her seat. "You say this after implying you were hunting the Matous." I see what she's getting at. She figures I was tracking them down in order to ambush them. Stealing their servant in the process. That's not too far from what ended up happening. "I wanted to prevent the summoning. If I wanted a Servant I would have summoned my own."" I say this with a little bit more venom than I intended. She takes note of my tone, clearing judging its honesty.
"Why prevent the summoning?" There's genuine curiosity in her tone. I've clearly interested her in my tale, regardless of whether or not she believes it.
"To stop the war of course."
That really gets her attention. She sits up in her seat, moving closer to me as well. "What?" Her tone's not quite upset. Anxious maybe, but not angry.
"This war's a pain in the ass. If it were in any other city I wouldn't give a damn."
She repeats her question, this time with a bit more fervor. "What?!" I cringe a little at her intensity. She doesn't sound like she's going to kill me. Rather it sounds like she's taken aback by my statement. So surprised that she doesn't know how to react properly.
"That shitty cup has the power to grant any wish. Something like that can't come without a catch." That instantly causes her to deflate. It's probably something she's thought about, but pushed aside hoping it wasn't true. I know how she feels. These kinds of things are always too good to be true. "Even if it doesn't, who's to say some lunatic won't wish for the world to end? You think I'll just be a bystander when my life's at stake?"
She falls back into her seat. "If that is the case, would you not have tracked it down regardless of where it took place?" There's a sound logic in her question. Though she's assuming my motivations are purely self-preservation.
"If it happened somewhere else I wouldn't be around to care about it. But here, well, it would be plain irresponsible to let lunatics destroy my city when I can stop them." Ha, 'irresponsible' how can I even say that without a shred of irony? She ponders those words, and for a moment we're once again silent for the drive. Then the conversation continues.
"Why not move somewhere else then?" She's trying so desperately to find some different explanation for what I've done. Picking apart the reason I've given her for some sort of flaw to exploit. I'm not sure if she's naturally skeptical, or if she's just finding it hard to believe that I'd involve myself in this war without wanting a Servant.
It all comes to the one unspoken question that I know she wants to ask. "Don't you have a wish?" For whatever reason, she's avoiding outright saying it. Instead trying to walk me to that question, hoping I'll tell her my wish. The very idea that I might not have a wish probably seems ludicrous to her.
"I'm the type of guy who likes to settle down. Traveling's not really my thing." From our mental link I can feel her doubt. Clearly she doesn't buy that explanation. Hell, I don't even buy that explanation.
"You do not strike me as the type who would settle down." She's blunt with her reply, not deeming my weak response worthy of subtlety.
I grin at her. "Sometimes you're forced to. Especially if there's nowhere else to go." She processes this information, clearly filing it away for later. I've gained her curiosity once again.
Finally, she skips all the bullshit and gets to the root of the issue. "Do not tell me you do not have a wish." She practically whispers this. It's not even a question either. Instead it's a statement, as if she's ordering me to assure her I have a reason for my actions. As if she needs there to be a reason. If she had met me a few years ago I would have had a reason. Now, I just scoff at her.
"What's the point of winning some stupid grail? I have plenty of paper cups at home." I expect her to protest at such a stupid remark. Instead she breaks into a fit of laughter.
"Truly, this is a ridiculous situation I find myself in." She manages to say this in between giggles. I patiently wait for her to get ahold of herself. Eventually she calms down, and explains exactly why she finds this funny. "To think, I've waited for an eternity for someone to summon me. Only to be summoned by a child who wanted Caesar instead." Oh, wow, I almost forgot that comment the kid made. Seems she definitely didn't. "Not only that, but the boy is taken out before I can tell him how lucky he is to have summoned me. And the one to take his place is a man who doesn't even have a wish. It almost seems poetic."
I snort in amusement. "I'd say it'd make a great tragedy."
She starts chuckling again. "Aye, that it would. It would have been well-received in Roma." That thought appears to bring back some memories. If her sudden bout of speechlessness is anything to judge by.
It doesn't matter regardless, I can see the church in the distance. "Well, looks like we're here." I glance at her one last time from the corner of my eye. Her mood's died down considerably, a melancholy expression gracing her features. "Let's hope this goes smoothly." She doesn't respond, so I stop talking. Instead I focus on the road ahead of me.
AN: Well that totally ended on a really big cliffhanger. Sorry 'bout that, but it seemed like a good place to cut off. The chapters are somewhat shorter than GEGE's. Mainly because it's easier and quicker to write them like this. I probably won't even make them less than five thousand words though, because that's too short for this kind of story in my opinion. Also, in case you haven't noticed, every chapter's title is going to be the name of a song that came out either in the 60s, 70s, or 80s. Usually the song will have some relation to what goes on in the chapter itself. Kudos to any of you who can correctly guess why I named this chapter what I did. It's not really that difficult to figure out. The correlation between the first chapter and its title is a little bit harder to figure out. As always, thanks for reading!