Disclaimer: This chapter might feel a tad rushed on account of how quickly I've moved to finish it. Then again it might not and I might just be imagining things in my sleep-deprived, caffeine intoxicated state. Enjoy nonetheless!
Chapter 9- Knockin' on Heaven's Door
You know, I always thought I had terrible luck. I mean, who can really blame me? Everything has gone downhill from day one. I failed to stop that kid from summoning Saber. I got roped into this mess and ended up becoming a Master. My house got burned down. My van got crushed to a pulp. I was unconscious for about two days. Saber spent all my money. My house burned down. I got banned from the only place in this godforsaken city that stocks Chianti. I've stumbled across not one, but two Servants in one night. And oh, did I mention? My house burned down.
But something just happened that makes me think my luck might be improving.
Lancer practically flings himself upon me, pouncing upon my fragile form with a killing intent that stifles my breathing. But he doesn't hit me. He doesn't bisect me. I don't become an instant amputee. My nickname will never become Stumpy. Nor will it be Lieutenant Dan. Because Lancer's spear doesn't so much as touch me. It's blocked yet again. And this time Saber's not the one saving my ass.
A black blur soars over my shoulder, the projectile barely missing my form. It crashes straight into Lancer's chest, the blow knocking him backwards several feet.
He looks down at the plate armor covering his abdomen. And he raises an eyebrow, an eyebrow of all things. If I were in his position I'd be pissing my pants. Why, you may ask?
There's an arrow in his chest. It pierced clean through his armor, treating the iron as if it were tissue paper. It's buried all the way to the bolt's fletching; to the point where I have to do a double take to realize it isn't something like a blowgun's dart. The entire shaft of the arrow is inside of him, or at least inside of his armor.
Blood trickles from its gaps, pooling on the ground beneath his feet.
Lancer doesn't as much as flinch. Immediately he brings a gauntlet covered fist up to the point of impact, reaching to remove the pesky arrow from his chest cavity.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Less than ten words are spoken. But from those ten words I can tell my savior is someone I could get along with. A lot.
"I amped up the dosage to compensate for a Servant. Sad to say it won't kill you, even with the increase." The man on the rooftops shrugs, and I finally manage to get a clear view of his appearance.
A green cloak and an equally green hood covering his face. This is a man with style, a man of practicality, and a man I can appreciate.
But ….
He's also a cowardly little bitch for sitting up there and doing jack shit! If he was going to help us why didn't he do it before I had a heart attack?!
"But don't mind me, go ahead and pull that out. I'm curious to see if the increased blood flow could potentially kill you. To be honest I'm not certain we can even be affected by poison, but I'd say taxine is a good place to start." I watch as the figure smiles, his teeth shining through the night in the form of a smug grin. Motherfucker must use Colgate.
"But I'm not sure if you're a good test subject or not. You are an old geezer, and we all know how age affects the body." His arm rises, pointing straight at Lancer. It's only then that I realize he's mounted a crossbow of some sort to his forearm. Great, I have wannabe Batman to the left of me and wannabe Ezio Auditore to the right. Here I am, stuck in the middle with these fucking morons.
"Why, you'd probably keel over from a slight breeze." He pulls the trigger, sending another arrow towards Lancer.
The man doesn't even blink. His spear swats the bolt out of the sky, no hesitation in his movements now that he's expecting the attack. It seems our resident Archer's gotten his one cheap shot in for the night and Lancer's not the type to let him get any more.
For a moment all the anger he felt towards me is redirected to the man on the roofs, completely forgetting about Saber and I in the process. Then, he softens, his shoulders relaxing as he fondles his spear absentmindedly … Shit, wrong wording!
"Very well, my dear. I shall return to you once more." He smiles, the act catching me so off guard that I can't help but let my jaw drop. "And when I find these two once more I shall mince them into a meat pie, one that I believe you will savor the taste of."
Well, I'd like to think that statement puts his Master right into the 'sadist' category. Perhaps even a few others.
"As for you, the coward on the roofs, you are the Archer of this War, correct?"
"You're wasting both of our time with a question like that. And your time is much more limited than mine." The green-clad figure all but confirms Lancer's suspicions. Not that there's much room for him to deny. He is after all armed with a crossbow.
"Tsk. As an Archer you are lacking." Lancer raises his spear, pointing it to the heavens. "Assassin would have been a better class. At least then you would have been able to hide from me. But now?" The point of the spear aims directly at Archer. "Now, I will find you. And I will skewer you alive."
I'm getting a little sick of this sonofabitch. Saber's behind me, keeping herself upright as she uses her sword as a crutch. But she's still bleeding out. And I don't dare to turn around, as I'd doubt they'd take kindly to the idea of me attempting to fix her wounds.
"Ok, Liam Nesson, why don't you just fuck off before you have a heart attack over there?" I didn't mean to say that. It just spilled out of my mouth.
Everyone's eyes widen in shock. Saber forces herself to stand on two feet, drawing her sword out of the ground in order to ready herself for Lancer's charge. She wobbles, still unbalanced in her state, but she forces herself to remain standing. Archer whistles in awe. "Damn, and here I thought my Master was the only fool in this War."
And what does Lancer do? His fists tighten their grip on his spear. But that's all he does. He doesn't come after me.
"I will take your head. That large mouth of yours shall make for an excellent chalice."
"Psh. And you call me stupid? Anything you'd put in it would just spill out through my neck." I wave his threats off completely; not at all afraid of him now that I know he's going to retreat. "If you were to turn a decapitated head into a cup you'd be better off hollowing out the skull and using that."
Yet again all eyes fall on me, seemingly pinning me to the spot. Archer coughs into his fist, apparently uncomfortable with the direction this conversation has gone in. What? Wouldn't it be smarter to stall the guy? I'm giving your toxin more time to spread throughout his body, you idiot!
"Praetor!" Despite Saber's pained expression, and the clear anguish she's in, she protests what I just said either from moral indignation or a desire for me to allow Lancer to leave.
"You." Lancer directs a menacing glare my way, pointing a single bony finger at my chest. "You will be the one to usher in my reign." He does the cliché gesture where one pantomimes a slit throat by sliding their finger across their neck. "Through your suffering I shall make a statement to this era. A simple one, that even one such as you should be able to understand." He crosses his arms, allowing the spear to dissipate in a cluster of sparkling lights. "Cross me, and you shall view Hell as Paradise after I'm done with you."
And with that final ominous threat our 'guest' vanishes just like his spear.
"Meh, I give it a two out of ten. I've had eighty-year-old grannies threaten me with worse."
"Your balls are bigger than your brain." A dry chuckle reaches my ears. "I almost want to spare you, just to see what he'll do to you when he comes back."
That single statement brings back all the tension that left with Lancer. Saber's eyes flash with worry as she attempts to move closer to me. Do I have time to heal her? That's the question I ask myself. Can I do it before Archer attacks, and if I can will am I able of doing it sufficiently enough that she'll be able to take him one on one?
I'm not too sure of myself. Sure, I could simply boost the supply of prana I'm sending her way, but that'd be far less efficient. If I knew healing magic I'd be in the best shape right now. Guess I should have researched into that craft more after all.
As I'm thinking this, Saber's crawling at a snail's pace my way, and Archer's readying another arrow in his crossbow.
My mind reaches out for any other option, any means to avoid yet another fight. It finds something, a single glimmer of hope to latch onto.
"'Almost'? Why 'almost'?"
He stops. His crossbow lifted up halfway in an aiming position. "You're a Master." And with that he points his weapon straight at me. Saber screams into the empty night, fighting her wounds in order to lunge for me.
I don't move, instead I smile at the second assassin that's come for my head this night. "You said your Master was a fool, right? How come?"
The question causes him to pause. The eye he closed to improve his aiming opens back up as he frowns at me. I'm starting to get a better view of his features. Reddish orange hair. (Why the hell are there so many gingers in Japan, of all places?) Clean-shaven. A face that'd make girls swoon. But his eyes. Those are what draw me in. Such sadness, Such misery. It's depressing to gaze upon. He looks to be around my age. Possibly older by a year or two. And he's supposed to be a hero? A Heroic Spirit? Just a glance into his eyes tells me he's no such thing.
I'm starting to think Lancer was right when he said this War's a farce. Even Saber, who's eyes tend to portray either confidence, pride, or general jubilance, is no hero. Lancer certainly isn't one. That thing from the other night couldn't have been one. And now even the Archer of the War looks like he wants nothing more than to cry in the fetal position.
What the hell?
How can this be a War of Heroes if even the Knight classes are villains?
"He was the one that urged me to get involved." He grits these words out with a bitter tone, as if he were swallowing something quite unpleasant. "Trust me, without his intervention I would have let you die."
I nod to myself, accepting his words. They make sense. He sat by for most of the fight, only getting involved when it was absolutely necessary. I'm guessing his Master is the one that insisted on that. "Let him know I'm in his debt."
This draws a gasp from Saber, the look of shock in her eyes portraying what her words never could.
Archer eyes me with newfound interest. "Dead men have no debts." He states this with confidence, seemingly preparing himself to shoot me. I ignore this. He would have already killed me by now if he was going to. His Master likely 'urged' him not to.
"I'm afraid that's not true. Besides, I have no intention of dying before my debts are paid. That's a burden only I can carry." I frown at Archer, watching his posture for any indication he'll fire. "Believe me, I always pay back my debts. Just as I always collect those owed to me."
With that I walk towards Saber, intending to retake my place by her side. Archer's aim follows me the entire time. But he doesn't fire. His finger remains off the trigger.
Saber stays silent the entire period, her gaze follows my movement just like Archer. Both are watching me, avoiding the urge to voice their opinion on the matter. I have no doubts that Saber wishes she could fight Archer, for no other reason than to remove the possibility that he'll be a threat in the future. But I'm not confident she could win that fight, and even more I'm not willing to let her try. She's wounded; it'd be foolish to fight in her state. And Archer technically saved our lives, I'm not willing to attack him even if he wasn't acting on his own volition.
Speaking of Archer, I'm certain he wants to say something negative towards me. Some sort of insult, or even a brief bout of mockery. Yet he holds his tongue, avoiding the urge to gloat even though he'd have all the opportunity and right to do so. That's somewhat respectable, I suppose. Though I would prefer if he did ridicule us, I'd do it if our roles were reversed.
I finally manage to get close enough to Saber where I can help her. She leans against me, using me as a crutch in her attempt to stay on her feet. The girl practically collapses in my arms. "Thank you, Praetor." She smiles at me, the happy expression not at all fitting her pale and sweaty complexion.
"Thank him, not me." I gesture with a tip of my head to our 'hero' on the rooftops. I'm sure he's scowling at us from up above right now.
Saber doesn't thank him. Instead she fixes a heated glare his way. "He is the Archer of this War? One of the three knight classes?"
"You don't know that for sure."
"You have a bow?"
"Yes, and your Servant is somehow Saber despite not knowing how to properly wield a sword."
"What would a coward like you know of using a sword? Swords are for those willing to face battle head on!" She scoffs, the sound reminding me of how haughty she can be when she wants to. "Someone that stays on the sidelines would never understand the art of the blade."
"Are you speaking about yourself?" The moon shines behind him, illuminating his face for a brief moment before a cloud covers it up once more. I can clearly see the sneer he wears, the disgust he feels at hearing Saber's words. "It's obvious you've never been in a real war. Everything from your clothes to your attitude shows that to be true."
He sighs, exhaling a deep breath as he calms himself. "Enough of this." He points his crossbow at us once more.
Saber. She meets my eyes and nods. Prana flows from my hands and disperses across her body. It travels to the wounded knee and begins to stitch the flesh back together. That's the best thing to mend first. The shoulder and ribs still need tending, but with the knee fixed she'll be able to at least get out of her with me if we need to retreat.
I'm not actually doing the healing anyway. I'm just sending the prana to her and hoping she knows how to put it to good use. So she's the one making the call on what gets fixed first. Regardless, it looks like I won't be able to just walk away from here with Saber in tow. Good thing I thought of a backup plan.
"Heh. You think I'll let you heal her?" His finger depresses the trigger. He's aimed right at my chest.
I can see the metal tip of the arrow, glistening in the moonlight.
This time he doesn't close his weak eye to aid in his aim. Good, it's smarter to keep both open if you can, so as to have a better idea of what's going on around the target and to have a point of reference in your sighting. That single piece of information tells me I'm dealing with a pro, someone who's at least semi-competent with their marksmanship. I shouldn't expect anything less. He is the Archer of this War, is he not? It also tells me one other thing. He's actually going to shoot this time.
I'm almost sad I won't be able to stay to play. I doubt I could beat him one on one in a ranged battle, but it'd still be intriguing to see how his arrows matched up against modern day weaponry. Unfortunately we don't have time for that. Even Saber understands the gist of my plan. We're running, I don't plan on fighting anymore tonight. There's a protest in the back of her mind, but she avoids making it the forefront of her thoughts. Instead she focuses on the arrow that's going to be sent our way.
All of this seems to take forever. As if we were sitting here for hours awaiting the first shot. In reality that's not the case. No more than a second has passed since he declared his intentions. That's adrenaline for ya.
"Alter." As soon as I say it the lamppost I'd touched writhes in place, before extending itself so it's capable of reaching the rooftops. He gapes at the serpentine metal barreling towards him, caught off guard by the sheer absurdity of the move. The metal coalesces around his body, wrapping him in a grip that would crush a normal man.
It gives us the precious few seconds we need to get the hell out of Dodge. Saber's leg isn't healed completely, but it's secure enough that she can move (albeit with a limp). I help her along, letting her lean on me as we push our way off the streets and into a nearby building.
I pull the Pico out while moving and hold it in the hand that's not wrapped around Saber's waist. The muzzle is placed against the wood above the building's doorknob, angled so it aims right at where I assume the lock to be. With a few pulls of the trigger and a reinforced kick the door swings open. And not a moment too soon, judging from the arrow that soars over my head and into the wooded doorframe.
I rush into the room, pulling Saber along with me. A second arrow manages to come our way before I can close the door. Saber knocks it aside with a sloppy one-handed swing with her sword. In a panicked fright, I manage to slam the door shut, desperately hoping it'll provide some form of cover against the barrage likely coming our way. Christ, this guy's good. He got out of that bind in like three seconds!
"Praetor!" I don't question her, instead grabbing her by the arm (her good one of course) and jumping behind what looks to be a store's front desk. I say this because there's a cash register placed on top of it, along with what looks to be a computer. Probably keeps track of sales or some shit, don't ask me I only deal in cold hard cash.
About a dozen or so arrows shred through the front wall of the building, turning the door into splinters and carving fist-sized holes out of the concrete building. Money starts raining down on me, and it's then that I notice a single arrow managed to make its way through our cover. It punched straight through the cash register, practically causing the thing to explode by just the force of the impact alone.
So this is what it's like to be on the receiving end of a .50 cal. Not a fun experience. Especially, considering he hasn't shown much interest in reloading that goddamn crossbow of his. Did he just turn his infinite ammo hacks on? Or has he just metamorphosed into Arnold Schwarzenegger?
"Ain't it funny how quickly an ally becomes a foe?" I grouse this to no one in particularly, but Saber appears to take some measure of offense to it.
"I will stand by your side no matter what, Praetor." This is coming from the girl that can barely stand.
I sigh, completely fed up with how things have been going. "First Batman. Now Green Arrow. What's next? Superman?" At that precise moment a bloodcurdling scream shatters the night, cutting right through the dust that's gathered around us. Such is the intensity of the sound it pierces through the very atmosphere of our surroundings.
"I said 'Superman' not the Amazing Bulk! Go back to whatever Hell you came from demon!" It's a given I mirrored the shape of the cross by overlapping one of my forearms over the other.
Saber stands up from our cover, her sword appearing in her hand. The look on her face tells me she's about to do something utterly stupid. No one should look that … determined in this type of situation. I'm confident she's determined to get us both killed.
"What the hell are you standing up for?!" I grab her hand and attempt to pull her back to the ground beside me. Of course I'm a mere peon in comparison to the strength of a stubborn Servant, so I only succeed in straining the muscles in my arm.
"Praetor, I shall hold them off. It shall buy you time to–"
I don't even allow such a sentence to be finished, cutting her off completely with a rather scathing remark. "Are you a fucking moron? Sit your ass down before you get us killed!"
She looks down upon me, like some high and mighty dipshit that thinks their better than everyone. Better than me. Hah. That's a funny joke.
"Praetor, I told you what I was going to do. Be grateful towards my benevolence and–"
"Oh, screw this bullshit." I draw the Pico yet again. Saber's eyes widen in shock.
"What are you …?" Her voice trails off as she puts two and two together. I reinforce my eardrums hoping it'll work as well as it did in our last fight against a Servant. Then I unload the entire remainder of the magazine into the wall in front of us. It's an incredibly dumb thing to do, something I'm well aware of as a stray round ricochets back at me and buries itself in the desk. That's not even the worse part of it all. The shots were incredibly loud, so loud they'd draw the attention of anything living or dead within a half mile.
Now, to be fair we were already creating a big enough ruckus as is. What with the brawl between Saber and Lancer, and now this asshole shooting at us. Oh yeah, and it seems big and ugly's back in commission, judging from that scream earlier and the way the building we're in is practically shuddering.
I can only assume that's because the thing's going after Archer outside. Or maybe it's because the street party restarted amongst all this chaos and he's decided to join it. The sight would be something to behold: a monster trying their hand at the Macarena.
Something tells me it's the former and not the later. You know what that 'something' is? The sudden silence that follows my gunshots, the silence is only broken when Archer is flung straight through the wooden door and into the store with us.
He collides with the back wall, landing hard against the wallpaper with a sound that reminds me of a bug hitting a windshield. He then slides down, blood visibly trailing his descent as he eventually comes to a stop three feet from us.
I take note of his pained grimace, the utter agony on his face, and can't help but smirk.
"Sucks to be you right now, doesn't it?"
The glare he sends my way causes me to recoil in terror. The giant fist the rams through the wall behind us practically causes me to have a stroke.
"Holy Scorsese!" I don't even know what comes out of my mouth as I grab Saber's wrist and hightail it out of there, practically ripping the front door of the shop off its hinges as I make my escape.
We blitz into the street. I'm more confident in my ability to make it out of here now that I don't have a glorified sniper pinning me down. Something ahead of me boosts that confidence even further.
"Praetor, let go of me!" Oh goddammit woman will you just shut up for once and go along with what I'm doing?!
"Ok, buh bye!." I let go of her, but I don't let her go off on whatever adventure she's planning to partake in. Instead I toss her into the backseat of the Nissan I've just hijacked. The ability to bend metal to your will really makes it easy to break into any lock.
Now you may ask why I didn't do that to the shop's door. Well, it's simple. It was more fun to shoot it open.
She begins to protest, and the look on her face tells me I've succeeded in doing something most men don't have the balls to do. I brought forth the righteous fury of someone of the fairer sex. Strange, never thought this would be the thing to piss her off. Of all the things I've done this is what makes her completely mad? Psshhh. That's hilarious.
I pop the driver's lock up the same way I popped open the back's, and slide into the seat. Saber's trying to right herself in the backseat, attempting in vain to straighten her dress into a more presentable fashion. She's gonna have a difficult time doing that. What with how the article of clothing's drenched in her blood and all. While she's doing this I can quite clearly see the monster from two days prior charging at us down the asphalt. Seems like I've picked up a secret admirer. Because as the saying goes "if you love something set it free, and if it loves you back it'll return". Well, I tried to set this bitch 'free' with an RPG, and now he's come back to me. Dante x Rock Monster confirmed.
You know how I compared him already to the T-Rex in Jurassic Park? Well, this is reminding me even more of that. It's a tense situation, one that would cause greater men than I to break down in panic. What am I doing? Laughing. I'm laughing as I try desperately to hotwire the car we're in. Thankfully I picked an older model of vehicle, back when they still weren't that difficult to steal using this method.
Why am I laughing, you ask? Simple. The expression on Archer's face. You heard me right. The creature is holding him in the palm of his hand, wielding him like a makeshift club.
Have you ever seen a man so fed up with the world that he's completely unfazed when his body is used as a bludgeon? No? Well I have. Archer looks absolutely nonplussed as the creature, holding him by the legs, uses him as a golf club to smack a fire hydrant at us.
Have to admit, the thing's got a good drive. You know, with some lesson and a little bit of time I might be able to do something with him. He'd be the next Tiger Woods. The champion for all the little abominations that hide in your closet and under your bed. It'd be a great underdog story. Hollywood would eat that shit up like … the loud crash that comes from the roof of our car brings me from my thoughts.
Scratch that. I change my mind. He's a piece of shit. A real pro would have aimed for the engine to disable the automobile. This moron just tried to crush us. Lame! Am I the only one with any foresight in all of Fuyuki?!
Another loud bang as something else lands on the windshield, cracking it in the process. I'm granted the sight of a bruised and bloody Archer clearly done with life as he gives me the best 'fuck you' look I think I've ever seen in my life. Well, looks like the monster (I really need a better name for him) has the same attitude most golf players have. When you screw up, blame the club.
It's at that moment that the engine roars to life. It's also at that moment that Saber finalizes her posture. Oh, and Archer looks like he's going to strangle me as he realizes what I'm going to do.
"Sorry bud, you brought this upon yourself."
"You wouldn't –!" I slam my foot on the gas, causing the car to lurch forward.
Archer, predictably, doesn't manage to hold onto the slippery glass he's face first in. So of course he goes flying off the hood. He lands with a thud rolling once, twice, thrice, as inertia keeps him tumbling. Sadly, the poor man must not have a high Luck stat, as he lands in front of the car and not the side.
It's predictable what happens to him. What? Of course I run the cockroach over. He shot arrows at me! So what if he sort of saved our asses, he wiped my debt clean the second he tried to kill me! You don't save someone just to kill them yourself. That's not very Christian like.
There's an uncomfortable thunk katunk as the front set and then the rear set of tires roll over him. I could swear I heard this soft little 'aaaahhhh' sound, but that's probably me just me imagining things. No way did he manage to cry out in pain. I ran over his head, if he opened his mouth he would have eaten rubber.
Have you ever wondered how quickly a 2008 Nissan Altima can accelerate from 0 to 100? No? Well, I'll tell you anyway. Not very quickly, but still at an impressive pace nonetheless considering this isn't the ideal car for street racing.
There's a squealing of burning rubber, followed by me being jarred in place. Saber smacks her head into the back of my seat. See? Seat belts are important kids. Just take Papa Dante's word for it. Eat your vegetables and wear your seat belts and you'll become big and bastardly like me.
"What did I say about seat belts?" She grumbles at me, crossing her arms defiantly as if she'll be doing anything besides hurting herself. Which she does of course. Her shoulder's still screwed up. Idiot. She just caused her wound to flare up in pain.
I don't even bother arguing with her, instead enjoying the sound of the car's V6 engine automatically shifting gears. I almost wish it were a manual. It'd be cool to shift gears while a monster storms after me. Almost like something out of the Fast & Furious series. Except there is one reason I'm glad we're in an automatic. It gives me a free hand.
"Saber, give me that coffee thermos there." She glances at a container on the floor near her feet. Thank Pesci this car's previous owner was a slob.
"What could that possible … ?" Realization hits her like a ton of bricks. Or, like a giant monster's fist. Said fist comes down hard on the passenger's half of the car, immediately caving the roof of our vehicle in and sending us skidding away.
"How the hell did he get a speed boost?!" I snarl at the creature, who I can now see through the gaping hole in our canopy. He's straight across from us, holding the sheet of metal he stripped from us in his left hand. His shoulders move up and down as he breathes. Thing looks just like he did before. Apparently, this is the only line of work in which RPGs aren't a permanent solution to a problem. Which means we're screwed.
"Thermos me!" I extend my hand, palm open in the universal gesture of 'give me this shit now'. Saber hands it over without a single word.
"You got any long-range attacks?!"
"Humph, as if you would even need to ask. Do you take me for a–?"
"Less bragging! More attacking! Envision you're a monkey at the zoo flinging feces at obnoxious tourists!"
She makes a disgusted face, unsettled by the imagery. "Praetor, I fail to see how that could possible help."
"Just toss all your shit at him! Toss it now!"
She brings out her sword, almost cleaving me in two because of the cramped quarters we're in. "Not the sword! Don't you have anything else?!"
My response is a sheepish grin. "Mmm … no?"
"Holy John Moses Browning, woman! Fine! Throw it at him!"
"What?"
"Didn't Rome have javelin contests or some shit?!"
"Ah, you mean the Olympics?"
"I mean the 'throw your big pointy thing at him so he doesn't crush us' contest!"
She makes a bland expression at my wording before sighing. "Very well. I shall reduce the masterpiece that is my blade into a 'big pointy thing' to save us from ..."
I hit the gas while she's still monologuing. "No time, screw it! Let's just do a barrel roll!"
"A … what?"
I start speeding down the winding roads, barely making a few turns and coming seriously close to flipping in the process. "Praetor, be careful!"
"Can you think of a time in which a backseat driver is ever a good thing? Does this seem like the exception to the rule?!"
"I was merely suggesting you be more cautious in your operation of this vehicle or else we might flip." She huffs quietly to herself. "But if that is what you would prefer, by all means continue driving like a maniac and see what comes of it."
"If you must know, that's exactly my plan!"
She blinks. She fucking blinks. "Uh?" For once she's completely speechless, and this is where she's left when I make it to Fuyuki's bridge. Immediately she understands my plan, and the sheer horror on her face reminds me even Spirits can feel fear.
"Hold onto your leotards!" And that's when the creature manages to catch up with us. He'd been gaining ground with every turn I had to decelerate slightly to make, and now he's upon us. With nothing to impede his movement he was almost as fast as Saber. Almost isn't good enough.
I abruptly jerk the wheel to the right, and the monster hits us square on the passenger's side. Saber smacks her head against the backseat window, shattering it in the process. I escape slightly less bruised, instead only suffering a mild case of whiplash from the sudden shift of direction. If only that were the end of it, but no, it's just the beginning. He hit us right on the edge of the bridge.
We're all going straight into the water. Me. Saber. Even the creature. I can only hope he never learned how to swim. I have all of three seconds to morph the thermos into a makeshift oxygen tank, turning the thing into an air pocket that'll probably last all of ten seconds. But that's ten seconds that'll let me get out of this car. Ten seconds to avoid dying in a watery grave.
Water hurts. A lot. Maybe that's why people tell each other to go jump off a short pier or a bridge? Because it hurts like hell to land in the water when you're not in the proper posture (a la the cannonball). Our car doesn't hit the surface of the bay at the right angle. Neither does that Berserker, but I don't particularly care if he belly flops.
The water instantly shatters the window Saber hit, taking advantage of the damage she's already done to it. So that's the first rupture we face, and that's even before the entire vehicle becomes submerged. When that happens it rushes in from the other side of the car, the one that got damaged in the chase.
I barely manage to place the thermos over my mouth and nose before I'm hit with the freezing H20 rushing in.
All and all I can say one thing from the experience: Rose was is a bitch for making Jack suffer this.
Really, I should have done this in the summertime. It might have been at least mildly pleasant then. But now? In late autumn? It feels like I got teleported into the Ice Age. I can't imagine what this would be like in the winter.
Saber reacts … better? She doesn't immediately start shivering since Servants are essentially immune from the elements. But that doesn't stop her from freaking out. Has to be quite frightening to realize you can no longer breath. Even more so when you realize you don't have to. Which leads me to an interesting realization: Saber's been breathing even though she doesn't need to. Huh, habits are a hard thing to break.
There's also the matter of her being able to keep eyes open despite the water coming in, though I imagine that's not nearly as impressive since I'm doing it as well.
If only we hadn't taken damage to the roof. We would have had an air pocket then and I would have been able to shoot out the windshield to let us escape easier. Now we only have Saber's back window and I'm in the front.
The passenger side isn't damaged enough where I can slip out through it, and despite the canopy's injuries I would have to struggle to get out. And I really didn't want to get stuck halfway. The thought makes me shiver. Or is that the freezing water that causes that?
I can't even break my own window or the windshield. The water pressure would make it near impossible to do with my foot or fist, even with reinforcement. I need something that has a point, so I can focus all force into a single spot. What can I use …?
I'm an idiot.
Her fucking name is Saber. She has a sword. A sword I called 'her pointy thing'. Why did it take me this long to put two and two together?!
I reach back to her, clumsily fumbling for the weapon that's slipped from her grasp and landed on the floor. She stares at my vain attempts, puzzled over what I'm trying to do. I point at the sword, hoping the realization will hit her before oxygen deprivation hits me.
Now if only I could speak … I smack the palm of my hand against my forehead. Idiot. Saber looks at me, clearly hearing that thought through our connection.
Praetor?! We need to get out of here before you run out of air!
No shit. I don't even bother thinking that thought, the disappointed look in my eyes portrays my message clear enough. Your sword. Us it to cut through the windshield.
She blinks, her eyelids displacing the water in front of her corneas. Could I not just slice the car in half?
I blink, my eyelids doing the same thing hers had done. Except since I'm actually a (semi-) normal person, the act only causes my eyes to burn as they try to reacclimate to their surroundings.
That would work. Yes.
Cue her grabbing the sword with one hand and swinging it against the car's chassis. It doesn't cut through, instead it only gets stuck halfway into the metal.
My eyes light up in anger. What the hell was that?!
She stops trying to pull it out and turns towards me, exasperated over what's happened. My arm! I could not swing it with enough force!
Ah … she's got a point. Even now I can see the droplets of blood leaking from her and tinting the waters near her. Good thing there aren't any sharks around.
I move into a position in which I reach can into the backseat. Then, by stretching my arm as far as it can go, I manage to grasp onto the hilt of her sword. We work to pull it free, like Arthur removing Caliburn from the stone.
Then I freeze, not just literally, metaphorically too. A thought just occurred to me. Can't you make it disappear and reappear in your hand? I'd seen her do that trick a few times over the past few days. Lancer had done something similar as well. Spirit form and all that.
She doesn't even bother turning to me, but judging from the unnatural red glow covering her cheeks she'd forgotten that fact in her panic. The sword becomes a swarm of particles, shifting from where it once was and coagulating back into its true form in her hand.
And that's when my air runs out.
I take a deep breath in order to calm myself, only to gasp when nothing enters my lungs. I look to Saber anxiously, glaring at the sword she's holding. My hand shoots out for it, begging for a tool to save myself. She hands it to me without hesitation.
Shit! It's unbelievably heavy. Even in the water, that simulates zero gravity, Saber's sword is far too weighty for a regular guy to use. So I won't use it as it's meant to be used then. Wouldn't be the first time I did something impractical.
I reinforce my arms and shoulders, hoping to strengthen myself past mortal limits, and then I take in a deep breath …. And instead of inhaling air I once again come up short. If the makeshift respirator hadn't been covering my mouth I would have sucked in a gulp of seawater. Instead I do something almost as bad. Continue to huff nonexistent oxygen. How the hell did I forget I'd run out of air?! My lungs burn in agony, crying out to me in the hope I'll reward them with the fuel they desperately desire. My heart dwindles in its movements, chugging continuously despite the lacking amount of material it has to work with. I'm on reserves now. And that reinforcement didn't help any.
Instead of tossing the sword at the windshield like I'd planned, I drop it onto the seat. Saber looks at this, and she looks at me, the way I'm turning purple and how I'm clawing at my throat in a desperate attempt to take in air.
Praetor, don't! She's too late, in my panic I've ripped the thermos off of my face exposing myself to the water. My lungs instinctively reach out for air, but instead of sucking that in I swallow a mouthful of saltwater. It goes down the wrong hole too. Ever choke on soda before? Remember that burning sensation when it came up your nose? Multiply that by ten. That's how I feel right now.
My last gasp of air bubbles up to the surface, floating away from me as I flail around in terror. Spots of darkness start to impede my vision, signaling that I'm getting closer and closer to blacking out.
The last thing I see is Saber's hand shooting out towards me and being unable to reach for me. That's a sight that'll haunt my dreams.
AN: Two updates within a week of one another?! Egad! The madman's done it! Think of this as my apology for the length of time I took to update Chapter 8. I won't be updating this frequently often, but it felt like a nice thing to do just to avoid leaving you all on a cliffhanger for an extended period of time. The next chapter's not nearly close enough to being finished so I'd expect to wait at least two weeks before I post it. And of course after that I'll be working on Transparent for quite some time so I'd expect an elongated hiatus of perhaps a month or two. Now, onto my responses to your reviews!
Synthetic Knight: Once again thank you for the compliments! And I know your pain at having to wait for updates. There are so many stellar fanfics in my favorites and followed list that haven't updated in ages. And it pisses me off so much because half of them went on hiatus following a cliffhanger or when things were just starting to get good! It's like waving a juicy steak in front of a starving dog only to toss it into the garbage after teasing them. But I don't intend to do anything of the sort with this story, so at least you can rest easy knowing that while I'll be updating infrequently I won't ever stop updating XD.
King0fP0wers: You wouldn't happen to be a certain Zoan user, would you lol? Yup, that's probably the greatest option of having your own account. It's much easier to keep track of what your favorite authors are doing. It also fills up your email inbox to the point that it could be considered spam XD. Speaking of Tsunderes and Rin ... well, let's just say 'Chimichanga' (at this point I don't even remember her real name anymore XD) isn't going to be the last member of the Tsundere race we see. Soon, very soon, you will see a wild Tohsaka in her natural habitat. And I hope to put a spin on the whole 'Hero of Justice' side of things. Dante's not really going to pursue that in the same fervor as the various Emiyas, nor is he going to really do it for the same reasons. To put it simply he's just open to the idea because he thinks it'll be his 'get out of jail free' card. Saving the world would seem to balance out every other bad deed you've done, wouldn't it? Which ... come to think of it does make him pretty villainous in his own rights, lol. Ditto on Tamamo. Her personality would probably get along with anyone as a Master who isn't overly evil, and while that'd make her a really lovable character it would make her sort of underwhelming. When I tossed an OC like Dante into Fate I wanted conflict and chaos dammit! How can I get that by giving him a perfect eternally faithful waifu companion?! Hence the potential for a character like Mephisto. I'm glad to hear I've actually managed of inspiring you to write! Hassan of Serenity as a Servant sounds interesting, on account of the Hassans getting so little character development in canon. And a Dead Apostle for an OC has me intrigued because of how little I know of the Tsukihime side of the Nasuverse and its inner workings. I wish you luck, and urge you not to be nervous about publishing something. After all, you could always do what I did and rewrite a story to make it better.
Chayner: Well ... don't want to get your hopes up, but he's kinda sorta not a Lancer. Still 100% Vlad, albeit in a less knightly package.
Gundam-Knight-Chris: You know I almost feel bad with how little actually happens in this fight with Vlad. It was kind of anticlimactic to be honest. But could you imagine if Dante died from his own stupidity and not from the raging maniac wielding a spear?
Anthem of the Night: The answer to how our two heroes avoid impalement? Simple. Deus Ex Archer, lol. Glad to hear you enjoyed the bar scene even though it was sorely lacking in terms of the drunken Nero department. I didn't even consider it that much of a 'feels' chapter to be quite honest, but I sort of see what you mean upon rereading it once again. My best piece of advice for you would be to just have fun with what you're writing. In case it wasn't obvious I don't care much for the 'logical' or 'reasonable' portions of what goes on in my chapters. Instead I focus much more on the zaniness. It's so much more enjoyable to go balls to the walls with all sorts of ridiculous situations than it is to try and write something serious. As the saying goes "it's easier to apologize than to ask for permission". So why not apologize to yourself in the future for not writing a chapter you're 100% satisfied with rather than constantly asking yourself 'should I do this or that' and thinking about it forever. As long as you avoid writing something that's particularly atrocious. Just my two cents, hopefully it sort helps.
Guest: I like how you tossed in Charisma at the lowest rank just because of that comment Dante made about how he had Charisma (despite that obviously not being the case) XD. Mental Pollution is a must have, as is Independent Action. I'd probably change his Luck rank into EX (on account of that originally meaning it's unmeasurable by normal means) and also update his NP name. I was thinking of it being something like 'Arsenal of an Anarchist' or maybe 'Armory of the Aficionado", with Dante of course having his own colloquial term for it "Wet Dream of a Texan".
King Keith: Good to hear your enjoyed writing Nero, she's not the easiest character to portray but definitely one of the most unique. And I definitely had fun writing Mordred, it was hilarious thinking of how I could properly piss her off XD. Psshh, Dante has Lancer levels of Luck, lol. Ah, so you remembered Plight of the Renegade! I'm almost thinking of just having that as his second NP, it'd be passive of course. Just because I love the idea of him having an E- ranked Charisma. Could you imagine the reactions that'd get? "Why does Assassin have Charisma? And at such a low rank?! What the hell is this supposed to be used for?!" "I always wanted to be a motivational speaker when I was a young tike."