Welcome back to another edition; this chapter is very important to me; we've almost reached the one-year anniversary of Grail Wars, first uploaded on March 28th, 2022. It really doesn't feel like we've been going that long, but here we are, over 200,000 words written in so little time. As always, it's an honor and a pleasure to write for so many people.
Grail Wars was the epitome of a one-off idea, coming to me as an afterthought and basically nothing else while I was playing Metal Gear Rising when I should have been working on my Grad-School applications, but things seemed to work out. I'm almost 23, about to get my first Master's degree in History, and the story is still alive and kicking despite the claims some people had about it inevitably dying. And yeah, the awkwardness of me being a grown-ass man writing fanfiction has crossed my mind multiple times, but it's a hobby; what can I say?
I'm not one to boast, but I wanted to give my due thanks to my followers. Because of all of you, the story has breached into the top ten most favorited Metal Gear crossovers on the website, so here's to you for giving me the privilege of saying I made it this far; it means a lot, I'm just an Irish guy from Chicago who really likes to write, and time and again, people shock me by reading my tirades.
Anyways, onto story-related topics, I'm glad people seem to like how Sakura has changed as a character; of course, I've seen each of the Fate routes, and she's always criminally underused besides in the obvious. Now, I'm not an expert in storytelling by any means, but I've tried to adapt her personality to the new narrative and influences on the magus's life. We've reached a fun little balance where she's a tie between Metal Gear and Fate writing; it's going to be a neat process to see her develop.
On this topic, it's so weird looking back on Raiden starting as a lone wolf type of character and slowly changing into a fatherly role for little Sakura while also gaining allies like Rider, who people also seem to like despite her brief appearance so far. Some of you are worried about the cyborg losing screen time, I'd argue otherwise, but at the end of the day, Blade Works is different because of him and the things he's changed over time. It does require input from other people to get more context, so bear with me on that, he's the main character, but the cast has expanded alongside the narrative.
One last thing; as you all know, Zero started with me largely following the canon of the start and then going from there based on how the main character would do things; so, this chapter might cover a bit of familiar ground, bare with me as we set the stage for the fun things to come, but I think some people will be pleasantly surprised by what happens.
Anyways, Grail Wars is a unique project that I always enjoy working on, the same mindset I have toward Faded Dawn; each deserves a lot of attention, and I'm glad to have all of you along for the ride. With all that out of the way, let's celebrate a year of writing!
...
"Don't regret your past, learn from it. Regrets just make a person weaker." -Solid Snake.
...
*Click-Click-Click...Click-Click-Click
A pair of heavy boots tapped along hard wooden flooring, their pace consistent yet rhythmic, firm yet guided, holding a commanding presence as though their wielder shook the earth itself with their mere existence, as though they had defied existence by persisting in a relentless journey. The night raged on, holding defiant against the looming dawn of the morning light, and yet, he didn't rest, nor did he slumber for even a moment, having lost the need for such things long ago, and even when he could, the man rarely did, never finding comfort or solace in peace despite his attempts.
What he did seemed unfeasible to the ordinary mind, not that the man understood the term anyways; what he could call average, anyone else would call insanity. A harsh yellow light glowed from above as he passed beneath its synthetic glow, grimacing at the annoying buzz of a dying bulb; the question had come to his mind more times than anyone could dream of over the years...was there something wrong with him?
A moment passed as a distant clock audibly ticked, and within that second, a light chuckle had escaped him, coming out as a dry, raspy cackle, audible only to him as he raised a finger to caress a nonexistent beard, the digit gliding over his immaculately pale skin as a smile appeared, then vanished in an instant. Knowing there was no point in asking about something that couldn't be fixed, not that he wanted to at this point...no, the cyborg wasn't the type to ask for help or even for someone to listen to his problems; it felt wrong, and a cheap way out of handling it himself.
Raiden was a complicated person; having endured a lifetime of war and mental turmoil, things that would utterly annihilate the average person, he shrugged off as though they didn't bother him, and not through some suppressed memories or something along those lines, no. The samurai just didn't care; that's all there was to it; what should bother him simply didn't, and at one time, he would have blamed it on his upbringing, but that wasn't it...no, it wasn't him.
The surrounding world passed by in a blur as he crossed hallway after hallway, without him genuinely paying attention to anything in particular, merely waiting for the next gap to peak out into the world ahead, just waiting for something to happen. It didn't matter if his advanced radar could detect anyone within nearly a mile; he hated sitting still; the mere thought of doing nothing drove the mercenary crazy. This wasn't about S3, or even what Solidus did to him...something told Jack that even without them, or even without getting Big Boss's genes injected into him, he'd still be like this...just...waiting for...something.
A pair of blinds briefly clicked open, with his blue eyes scanning the darkened abyss ahead, their synthetic nature piercing the void with an efficiency unknown to organic life before the gap closed as soon as it arrived. He had his habits, the little things that kept him alert and aware, regardless of how useful they were...it didn't matter... it was only something people that saw combat could understand, those eerie moments where you're all alone, expecting some ambush to happen or for orders to come in, only for nothing...just...nothing.
People might tell you how war changes men, but to Raiden, it just brought out what you really were...stress does that, pulling things you never dreamt of having inside of you out for the world to see. Those things stick with you, that anxiety, the fear of the unknown, the same feeling your ancestors had back when they lived in caves, waiting for some animal or other tribe to wipe them out in an instant if they let their guard down. Things might change; ideologies, technology, and beliefs adapt and mold to the times, but men never do; no, their ambitions only grow to what the world allows.
*Bump-Bump
The killer's eyes briefly glowed a vibrant red as a pulse of pain rang out through his mind, although he didn't react, having adjusted to his counterpart years ago whenever he decided to show himself for whatever reason or other. Raiden wasn't an expert on his other half despite them being the same person, but he could at least tell when Jack agreed with him...it wasn't shocking, just simple logic; a caveman might want to wipe out a nearby settlement for some reason or other, but he's tempered by only having a spear, they make things dirty and complicated, each fight is a risk that puts everything on the line, but give him a rifle and would he stop? No, his sights would go beyond the village and onto the region, and from the region came the nation and then the world.
He glanced down, tightening a robot fist as sparks crackled from beneath the layers of synthetic skin as a dark smirk grew along the Liberian's facade of humanity. Jack was always like this, a killer, a murderer, a maniac, call it whatever, but regardless of whether or not he was a cyborg didn't change that about him. What determines a human's limitations is their mind, and that alone, it's what you're willing to sacrifice to get what you want out of life.
Sure, the warrior could have kept his old suit, maintained the few organic pieces he had left in that husk, and let Sam and the other members of Desperado walk free, but that's not him... It didn't take much to give it all up for the strength to keep fighting; Raiden was always that way; technology just allowed him to carry his will forward; it didn't make or force him to do anything; his will was his own.
The man turned yet another corner, his thoughts still wandering around as they always did, passing through the kitchen without so much as a thought, focusing only on the window ahead, but besides he-
*Clink-Clink
He paused, hearing the distinctive sound of something glass tapping against another, forcing his march to come to an abrupt halt as the man glanced to his side. His vision filled with nothing but a bright purple as a slender arm stretched upward toward a distant shelf, and to his surprise, expertly gripped and pulled one of the many bottles he kept far away from his wards, the shadowed red liquid within swishing about before coming down with an elegant pull as a melodic voice escaped from the figure, their unseen back facing him the entire time.
"... That's your eighth lap..."
The veteran simply stared a moment before his mind clicked in acknowledgment; Rider... he almost forgot the woman was even here...they had only met a few hours ago, but even with that, Raiden could tell she wasn't much of a conversationalist, not like he expected much from THE Medusa, not that he had much to say on it...pretty much every movie she was in involved her being well...evil, at least in a comical way, not that he had much to go off of with the real one.
He sighed, knowing that myth and reality were better kept as separate things, shoving a hand into a jacket pocket as he spoke, frustration running through his system as always, "Have you just been...watching me this entire time?" That phrasing felt wrong considering the blindfold, but Raiden was never one for careful wording, not caring much for what others had to say about hi-
But the Servant soon broke his thoughts, idly humming as she blindly stared upwards as though she could somehow see the contents looming overhead. The Greek paused, leaning onto one side as her chain grazed the floor, a rattling sound reverberating across the inactive estate as she placed the bottle back, daintily drifting a hand over the others before pulling another down as she spoke with the same cold indifference as always, "... I've been told that I am...observant, call it a gift, but I know it as a necessity to survive the world of man...but I have had difficulty comprehending your intentions."
The Liberian's shoulders dropped as his features lightened in mild interest; deciding to take a moment, he leaned back against a nearby countertop, choosing to ignore the solid marble audibly groaning against his multiton form. He slowly crossed his arms as hidden mechanical components rotated into the perfect position, not reliant on the faults of organic material, each command executed to perfection as always in his machine-like existence. "I don't have some grand plan if that's what you're thinking-"
He scoffed at the idea; no, schemes and plotting were something the Patriots and men far more intelligent than him did. Raiden was a realist, grounded in what was in front of him, not working on what was leaps and bounds beyond what he could do in the here and now. Sure, the veteran would prepare for the inevitable, but manipulating the narrative and controlling others just wasn't for him; the samurai did things his way, and his alone, he clicked his tongue, ignoring the sound of scraping metal within his artificial jaw as he spoke with an odd sense of nostalgia within his tone, "something I learned a long time ago, most people have simple goals, but it's life that complicates things...the people, places, and even things that are connected to you, they just add more depth to it."
A moment passed as the woman stood there in silence, a common occurrence with her, with neither really being the talking type, more or less forced into interaction than willingly engaging in it. But as the seconds continued to tick by, with her more focused on the bottle still in hand, the soldier still struggled to get a read on her, with practically no tells to her perso- "...your words hold truth-"
With the silent elegance of a predator hunting in the night, she turned without a sound, her purple locks grazing the floor as she slowly spun, facing the cyborg, knowing exactly where he was despite the lack of sight, making him wonder if the Greek even needed the sense at all, her expression remained dull as she responded, "...Even something as simple as wishing to protect another can expand into unknown realms without one's intent, for the more lives you take, the more renown your name acquires, but you know that as well as I, don't you?"
A grin grew along the ninja's features, knowing that at one point, he hated that monicker of his, The Ripper was something even he feared more than anything else...it was the truth, the uncomfortable reality of the kind of person he really was underneath all the other layers of humanity, who wouldn't be terrified of something like that? It seemed stupid now, but back then, he had doubts... a family, friends, and people he cared about; the killer just didn't know if Raiden could survive if Jack was let loose for the world to see once again...would one half of him just...vanish?
He shrugged it off, knowing now that's not how it happened that fateful day outside of World Marshal Headquarters; whether it was him letting go or Jack breaking out didn't matter. They were both still around in some way, shape, or form, with neither willing to give much leeway to the other, their instinctive drive to live forcing the two into some weird tandem only they understood. His smirk mellowed into a visible yet less apparent nod of agreement as he spoke with a slightly lighter tone, "It's just the way the world works; if you fail, you're forgotten to history... but the longer you fight against the odds, your name takes on a different meaning-"
The mercenary glanced to the side, idly watching as the moonlight peaked through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the brightly lit kitchen just a bit more as he put his hands together, cracking his metallic knuckles with an audible crunch, "But none of that really matters at the end of the day, you choose what those words mean, not anyone else-" he lightly chuckled, knowing it had been so long since the man saw any of those long lost faces, he could only wonder what David was up to right now, somewhere out there, before pushing it away, "It's funny, people used to call me a Snake too, but...it just isn't me, not anymore, at least."
For just a moment, the woman bristled just a bit, as though some minor surprise had just occurred before settling back into her typical static behavior, either angry or joyous, as though the legendary Medusa simply existed, not a genuine person, but not a statue either. The bottle lowered as her tan hand fell to the side, her focus on the Liberian noticeably intensifying, her voice picking up with some hint of mild intrigue, "...and what exactly is a Snake to you?"
Not picking up on the gravity of the Servant's tone, Raiden snapped a finger in introspection as he tried to collect his thoughts, and yet they kept drifting back to the one person the killer knew he could trust without question, the man he aspired to be like his entire life, more than a living legend, but a human being who defied his coding to make his own choices in a cruel world that didn't care for him or his siblings suffering...how do you even begin to describe that?
David was and still is everything to him, and not a day went by when Jack didn't think back on the man that guided him through his shitshow of a life, giving him the courage to face his family when the old him would've just run away from the confrontation. Those stories were for him and him alone; the cyborg knew better than anyone that Solid Snake would kick his ass for even mentioning him at all. The man preferred being forgotten, but that was one order the Liberian just couldn't follow through with; losing family was one thing, but their memories were more than just fragments of a lost time; they composed his very being, influenced his actions, helped him decide what needed to be done... "A Snake, huh?
He looked back to the once Gorgon, taking yet another moment to choose his words, not out of concern for her, but wanting to do justice by the person who meant everything to him. He sighed, rubbing a hand along the back of his head as he spoke with absolute certainty, albeit in a pained fashion, "People like to say they're terrifying, you know?... Lying in wait in some shadowed crevice or unseen vantage point to strike at whoever decides to cross their path, just...guided by their genes to be as aggressive and cruel as possible, but in my experience?"
For a brief moment, the man genuinely gave a fond smile in remembrance of those fleeting days of peace, hoping that David found the happiness he was looking for with the time he had left; sure, they had talked a lot after that chat in New York, but it wasn't up to the samurai to figure out what acceptance meant for someone else. Call it intuition if you want, but somehow, Raiden knew if anyone got the rest they deserved, it was Snake, he had earned that much, and it showed in his demeanor, even as the man was dying in front of him, he only thought of other people, even if the clone didn't like to show it. So he continued, "They're calm... at least from the outside...they don't seek you out for some reason or other, instead they just...protect what's theirs with everything they have... there's something noble about how simple it is."
She tilted her head at that, at least in the most Rider way possible, slight yet visible, each motion and interaction carefully calculated to portray a set image of staticness, as though the huntress was always on edge in some form or other. After a second of thought, she lightly snorted, giving no reaction otherwise before speaking, giving a gentle nod as she did, "Simple they may be, but do you not see the risk in being so forward with one's intentions?... It's predictable, with few alternatives to speak of; even something as benign as wishing for someone to live another day can act as an affront when men view them as a beast that poses a hazard, that fear drives out the worst in all of us-" she briefly grimaced, almost inaudibly whispering, "... for even the deepest love can easily become tainted."
The countertop lightly chipped as the man leaned back, still ignoring the crumbling material as it fell to the floor, choosing to continue his narrative as though he wanted to say this for some reason or other; instead, he shook his head in denial, "Sure, it might be easy to spot, but it's the principle of it, some people will just run away at the first sign of danger, leave their family, their possessions, everything behind to live another day, but a Snake? You could show them impossible odds, an enemy that they can't hope to beat, and somehow, they just...find a way to stand their ground; they don't run; they bare their fangs and strike first, something a lot of people can't seem to do themselves, they just...take the punishment and the abuse, but not a Snake..."
His eyes briefly closed as a pang of emotion ran through his heart, an image of an old and withered face telling him that he'd bare the brunt of a microwave tunnel just so he could live another day, to find his own way in life. Pained memories weren't something new to Raiden, but some things he just struggled to think about; no matter how much time had passed, he accepted his past, but that didn't mean the cyborg ignored the feelings that came from it. He stuttered a moment before forcing himself to mumble, "never a Snake..."
With a hum, the Servant slowly began a gentle walk through the room, the bottle lazily swinging in her hand as she dodged and weaved between an array of assorted tables, countertops, and chairs with the grace of a dancer despite her lack of sight. As she moved past the Liberian, she put the glass down with an audible clink, striding toward a nearby cabinet as the mythical huntress reached into its confines, speaking as woman searched for something or other, with an overtone of interest in the conversation, "Never could I have expected a lecture from the likes of you... perhaps the times truly have changed; the Greeks have united, and killers are now philosophers prattling on about the meaning behind everything...but I suppose that's a given-"
With a sidelong glance, the cyborg spotted the faintest of smiles on her tan features as she continued, digging through the cabinet with a delicate hand, blindly searching for something all too specific, "For death, the most terrifying of ills, is nothing to us, since so long as we exist, death is not with us; but when death comes, then we do not exist."
The cyborg slowly nodded along; Epicurius, one of the many writers he was forced to encounter during his training, despite his hatred for reading, his works were simple yet effective. Once you're dead and gone, all those pains you've endured will disappear when the lights go out, so why bother worrying about it at all? He took the phrase to heart, learning to accept life for what it was his own way, only wondering why anyone would drag their way through the words when a film did it justice too... Not that anyone would sit for four hours to hear old men talk about life...well, maybe he would if it was part of the director's cut... the solider pushed the thought aside, as his gaze widened just a bit, "I take it you're the bookish type?"
She lightly scoffed, pausing her pursuit as she slightly turned to face the samurai with less indifference than before, her purple locks shifting as she moved, "It's as you say; a Snake may stand their ground, but waiting often gets quite dull, so I found solace in the writings of man despite my discomfort with their presence-"
Rider briefly raised her head, taking a slow yet steady breath before mumbling something about it reeking of metal, soon pushing past the thought as she clasped something within the shelf, gently trying to guide the object past an array of obstacles within her reach, "I would presume it's the waiting which you despise, you feel...-" she paused, trying to configure modern terminology in a coherent sentence before continuing, clenching a free hand in quiet thought, as though social interaction were anything but typical in her life, "the Greeks had a word for this...Mēnis, a vengeful wrath whic-"
A dry chuckle escaped the cyborg, his chest bouncing up and down as an old memory surged to the surface; after a moment, his blue eyes flickered toward the Servant, watching as she stared in confusion. He waved a pale hand in dismissal, "sorry, it's just...you're like the exact opposite of the Rider I knew from the last War; you actually might know him."
The legendary Gorgon stood perplexed a moment, her hand finally pulling free as a tall wine glass escaped the rigid confines with a plume of dust following in its wake; to her visible annoyance, she tapped a finger along its rim in thought, wiping away the grime with an elegant swipe, "might know him...-" she deadpanned, "...it wasn't Perseus was it?"
Jack tilted his head a moment, having literally no idea who that was...don't blame him for not getting many history lessons in the school he never attended, not sensing the shift in tone, spoke with the same casual nature he had attained at some point during their interaction, shaking his head in denial, "No, Alexander the Great-" his gaze softened a bit at the memory as he mumbled, "one of the few people I'd admit to respecting back then, everyone else was all smoke screens and labels, but not him, no, he said it loud and proud."
With a strange expression mixing both confusion and acknowledgment, the Servant crossed her arms over her chest, the tan composure contrasting with the darkened material of her dress, as she stared at the man, "...The boastful tend to dig their own graves; pride ultimately brings about the downfall of even the bravest of men...just as it's quite bold for you to assume I know all Greeks."
Before the cyborg could respond with some gesture of genuine indifference, his apparent ally caught him off guard with the slightest shift in expression, a quirk of a lip that soon vanished; oh, so she was kidding; he internally sighed at that, knowing he would actually have to pay attention to get a read on her from here on, he rolled his eyes, "I just call it like I see it, you'd be surprised what you can learn from talking to someone."
With a click of her tongue, the Gorgon waved a hand toward the bottle, and before long, the cyborg slid it across the counter into her waiting hand; she placed her glass down, raising a tan finger with a sharpened nail digging into the cork, pulling it out with an audible pop. As the Greek slowly smelled the aroma, her head flickered up to face the man, "If only such things were so easy."
Jack tilted his head a bit at that, pushing aside his falling bleach-blonde locks with the swipe of a hand, his eyes lightly squinting in confusion as he raised an open palm to the ceiling above, "But we're talking right now; what the difference between this and anything else?"
The red liquid slowly began to trickle down from above in a swirling mass, poured with practiced perfection as the Servant focused her nonexistent gaze on her craft. Her tone shifted toward a blank neutrality once more before speaking, "You know...many of your kind tried to bring about my ruin... to kill the mighty Gorgon for some reason or other...-"
The bottle audibly clanked against the countertop, the cork still removed for when the mythical woman decided she wanted another glass, but her focus remained on the veteran as she idly twirled the sloshing drink between her fingers, "you lack their hesitance, but your process remains the same... you wish to know if I'm a threat that must be dealt with, no?..."
A mechanical hand slowly clenched, internal components twisting and writhing with untold force before suddenly releasing once more, as though their owner had come to a conclusion of some kind. Raiden stared at the Servant before his gaze drifted upward toward the lights above, their artificial light doing little against his synthetic orbs; he had underestimated her, but it wasn't much of a shock; even interacting with Rider gave him the impression that she was some kind of predator, an expert huntress capable of things he couldn't quite know, hell, she probably knew what he wanted from the minute the conversation started.
Jack's metallic jaw audibly clicked as it opened and shut, adjusting itself into place by some automated process or other as he regained his focus, his voice escaping with a new gravity, "You might be a Servant, but I know damn well that means sweet nothing-" he idly raised a hand and the other as he continued, "some are loyal, some aren't...-"
His eyes briefly flickered red as he thought back to that maddened gaze he encountered in the sewers running beneath the entire city, slaughtering hundreds if not thousands in some sick game, his Master no better than him...all for some disgusting fantasy for a dead woman that would never come to pass, it made him sick. "there's no such thing as good or evil on a battlefield, it's us and them, and I need to know she'll be safe with you around."
Rider slowly spun the glass in hand before taking a slow drink, with the Liberian briefly seeing a sharpened fang exposed between her parted lips before its white surface vanished once more as the Greek continued, "then there's little to discuss... I'm not of the disagreeable sort; taking orders is something I've long been accustomed to, but-"
A small smile overcame the tall woman's features as she stared down at the glass with a sense of fondness, as though she had remembered something good from days long since passed. Faint images of the siblings she once loved with all her heart drifted through her mind again and again, with the simple words heard a mere few hours ago igniting a spark within her once again, a simple desire she knew all too well...to protect one's family, her smile grew as she slowly stared up at the man, "I've taken a liking to that girl...I can sense a great pain within her but also a deep care for those precious to her...it's a bit endearing to see such ambition in one so young."
As the once mighty Gorgon took yet another calm sip of her preferred drink, the Liberian gave a slow nod of understanding; Raiden wasn't the type to pry into things that weren't his business...well, no, actually, that literally was ALL he did for years, but when he didn't have to? The warrior tended to let things lie, and Rider wasn't the type to admit much of anything about herself, just like him...oh well, it made things convenient. From one killer to another, if she got the job done, then who was he to complain about unnecessary details? But-
His glowing blue orbs reflected within the deep red slowly dwindling away within the woman's glass, the image reminding him of his own experiences, a drink in his hand more often than not, almost tearing apart the life he built because Jack just couldn't get his shit together...he sighed away the sensation, choosing to focus on the matter at hand, his gaze drifting to the side ever so slightly in discomfort, "You're going to need to keep her in check-"
As the drink slowly lowered, the soldier assumed it meant the Greek was giving her attention once more, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment before the man continued, swiping a few scattered pieces of dust off his jacket sleeve as he spoke, "Sakura might not look like the type, but she holds a grudge and tends to misunderstand people-" he raised a pale hand, rubbing it along the back of his neck, "believe it or not, she gave me the silent treatment for a week one time because I 'cut her sandwich wrong,' kid actually thought that meant I hated her."
Rider simply stood there a moment as a rueful smile slowly grew once more, small yet apparent, with a slight quiver as though she remembered something both fond and painful, "...I've handled such... particular... people in my life, I assumed she was of that sort during that outburst of hers."
Jack gave a grunt of agreement, staring up at the ceiling and examining the plain white coloring above interspersed with the same lights as always, "I don't know, I think the War's been making her act all jumpy... she's usually pretty needy, but lately she's on an independent streak."
With a slight change to her tone, the Servant leaned atop the counter, her tan skin glimmering against the solid marble beneath as a new interest peaked within her mind. Rider took a slow, contemplative breath, setting her drink down as her hands came together in thought, "... then, may I ask; does it bother you to see her growing up?...that...she might not need you anymore?"
With a scoff, the man thought back on his life; how had he gone from a killer to a borderline stay-at-home parent? God, Snake wouldn't let this go if he saw him now; Raiden could picture the man, cigarette in hand...no, definitely in his mouth, appearing like there wasn't any emotion or baggage behind his tired stare, and right when you let your guard down... 'you've gone soft.'
For a brief second, a pained smile crossed his facade of humanity...He could practically hear the clone saying it, but...no, deep down, the cyborg knew David would be happy that he found something... someone, to live for; it took him a while to even notice it but helping that girl, seeing her grow up into her own person, it felt good, like he had made something better instead of just destroying it... but it was almost time to move on, and Jack knew that.
In less than a second, the cyborg shook his head in denial before coming to a realization that the Greek couldn't see, and so with a calm smile, he met her nonexistent gaze, "Well, the kid's almost old enough to handle the world on her own... Who am I to stop her from making her own choices?... And besides, I'm no role model-"
His features steeled themselves as his mind wandered, knowing he had a target in mind, and in a few short hours, the same chaos that destroyed the city all those years ago would start once more. A long-suppressed grin began to grow on his face, anticipating the onslaught that was waiting for him, reminding the veteran just why he did this, not just for her or to prevent innocents from dying; they were just part of the puzzle, but really? "I'm just an old killer, sticking around to do what I do best."
His enhanced lens scanned the looming bottle of wine as the Servant began to pour herself another drink, and as he slowly stood and began to march off into the house to prepare for the inevitable, the man gave an unseen smirk, "1982? Good year for a wine... didn't think you had the eye for that sort of thing."
Medusa paused in her tracks, the consistent flow coming to a halt as the bottle loomed over the waiting glass below, half full, never once deemed empty under the Greek's watchful aura. Her visor followed the Liberian's footsteps as he walked away, her voice escaping in a sort of dull annoyance, "...I get the feeling that you're mocking me."
She was the mighty Gorgon, a being larger than existence, a tale that spanned beyond the realm of certainty; no, she remained in the minds of men across the world, far beyond the shores of Greece and her diaspora. At one time, populations trembled at her name and the idea of being sacrificed to her relentless hunger, but now? She simply wished to enjoy her wine in peace, and yet-
In a rare show of playfulness, the Liberian shrugged it off, raising a hand as his voice began to dwindle into the ever-expansive hallways of the Matou estate, "I don't know, see what I did there?" she didn't give a response, grumbling something about seeing how funny it is when something was in stone before taking another drink in silence.
...
Hours Later
A fan whirled overhead, its lightly creaking form denying a once bright room even a moment of silence as darkness loomed within its enclosed confines. A mumble broke out, followed by the occasional toss and turn of discomfort, only to be replaced by yet more tired obscenities, those strange flickering thoughts that only seem to surface and make sense within the world of slumber. A soft voice would lightly gasp as beads of sweat trickled down their pale skin, only for the refreshing air to cool their senses with a simple kick out from their tomb of blankets.
Locks of purple hair remained jumbled as their owner seemed to mutter the strangest of words, things that would make little sense to any who happened to overhear their incoherent thoughts as they bubbled toward the surface, with the occasional threat, followed by a shake of their head in refusal. She took a sharp breath, weakly trying to push herself back against a solid bedframe as she lightly slapped a hand against her arms, swiping away some unseen creature as she murmured about the worms...and something... clawing deep inside; the girl began to thrash, her voice getting louder by the second as subconscious fear rocketed forward, "no...no...g-..get awa-"
*Thump
The Matou's purple eyes shot open as an unseen force shoved against her arm, shocking her out of a dreamlike state as her vision remained in an ethereal swirl, not truly awake, nor at rest, that odd in-between where incoherent thought blended with reality in the worst way possible. She quickly raised her hands, rubbing them against her tired orbs as the blurriness slowly dwindled away, with the heiress's focus immediately drifting toward her pale wrists as she raised them close, squinting through the darkness as she checked for some unseen crawling mass beneath her flesh, yet finding none...another nightmare.
She fell back against her pillow, simply staring up at the blank ceiling as the magus threw her blanket to the side, inviting the cold air to wash over her form as her ensemble of pink and purple pajamas did little to dissuade the discomfort from waking up so early. 4:35 in the morning... Sakura didn't even need to glance at her phone to guess that; having spent years on a strict schedule, she had adapted to just intuitively knowing the time, finding a sense of place regardless of what was happening, not that she ever got much sleep these days anyways.
The exhaustion suddenly burned away as alertness overtook her prone form, a strange norm in her life that Jack had explained at some point, something to do with those robots in her blood stimulating sugar levels to stay awake. A light smile graced her features as she thought of it, with those lingering concerns of the dream world beginning to fade away; sure, most people would probably question why she was so calm about having metal things crawling around her veins, but honestly?... Sakura would take something kind-hearted like that over the worms any day, and besides, it felt like a little reminder that someone...cared...oh.
Her smile began to fade as memories took hold, remembering what had happened yesterday, summoning a Servant of her own...then blowing up at Jack...she didn't regret what she said, knowing fully well how set in her ways she was, but the Matou couldn't help but wish the conversation went better... it didn't help that it was an argument between two stubborn people in a house of uncompromising people...Sakura was upset, and so was he, and of course, the heiress HAD to be the one that felt guilty about it...the magusshoved the thought aside, figuring they would just have to deal with it and move from there, the Matou couldn't unsummon Rider, nor would she...Jack needed the help whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Not one to sit idly by, the protege slowly sat up, venting her frustrations as she raised an arm to the sky, bending it as a satisfying crack rang out, but a shiver soon ran through her as her feet made contact with the cold floor below. She sat there a minute, finding the energy to begin her day; it was usually a rigid schedule packed with whatever one could imagine, and about half of it involved taking care of Shirou, not that she minded; if anything, it was one of the few things that made Sakura happy seeing his day get a bit easier, but seriously...the guy could work on the life skills a little bit more, ask him to do a flip, he'll do ten...tell him you need help with your homework?...
The magus snorted at the idea, an image of her auburn friend scratching his head at basic math as his work sat completely untouched nearby; yeah, that sounded like Shirou. She smiled at the thought; it was sweet knowing how much he cared about other people, but the goofball could probably spend more time on himself, if that was even possible for a guy like him, always on the move, burning himself out for the sake of someone else...a lot like her, the magus guessed.
She rocked back and forth for a moment before leaning back and launching forward, landing upright with an audible hum of self-approval. And soon, she groaned in mild annoyance, flowing into a blur of stretches and poses as she always did for her morning routine, not caring enough to get her workout gear for it.
As the magus held what must have been her third plank that morning, hardly even feeling the burn at this point, a thought struck her, when did she stop caring about acting all... prim and proper? Was that the word? She sighed, putting yet more pressure on her core as her mind wandered, don't get her wrong; Sakura definitely hated when someone caught her doing something "unladylike," but in her defense, the magus was raised by Mr. Secret Agent himself, and it's not like teaching her manners was at the top of his list...but it wasn't like her guardian was any better, hell, she learned about 90% of her swears from him within the first year they lived together.
The student slowly rose once more, adjusting her stance, with a right foot sliding back along the polished wooden floor as her elbows slightly bent. With a blast of energy, the Matou lashed out, striking the air as her fists instinctively clenched and twisted on impact with her imagined foe before retracting, only to flow once more, thoughts shifting with each strike. Sakura wasn't the type to be loud or obnoxious...the idea alone was enough to make her internally shrink.
Being in the spotlight was like a nightmare to the Master; it didn't matter how much she did, but it always felt like prying eyes were everywhere, just dissecting every little piece of her they could...what would people think if they knew about her past?... What would Shirou think?... A fist clenched harder at the thought as a droplet of sweat broke into pieces, having been hit before it could even fall to the floor; it didn't matter how strong the magus was because the now would always be impacted by what came before... you could change as much as you wanted, but how many people did she know from class that did something stupid years ago and still couldn't live it down?
It didn't matter how nice someone was; they could tell you that things don't matter to them and that they'll always value you, but the way they look at you will change, like a reflection of what they really think, just hiding under the surface. They'll get distant, stop talking to you entirely after a while, and leave her all... alone.
Sakura stopped mid-strike, her gaze dropping as her purple bangs fell over her eyes as they burned for a brief moment, with tears threatening to break loose as she thought of the simple life she had built for herself over the years. Sure, the student would complain about having to help out and do all these unnecessary things for someone else, but it was seeing someone smile at her presence...like she was wanted... Would Shirou call her...tainted?...It felt impossible, like he was just too nice for that kind of talk, but there was always the chance that the first person to care outside of her family would just...leave...she didn't want to be alone again.
...
...
*Ring-Ring-Ring
Her phone alarm went off, silencing her tangent as a mechanical structure took hold of the protege's mind once more, burying the lingering feelings as best as she could before opening her door to a new day.
...
A bit later
With a light pep in her step, the Matou walked with practiced ease along the uphill climb toward her Senpai's house, the same route she followed practically every day at this point; he had told her who knows how many times to just meet him halfway, but surprising him was one of the few things she genuinely enjoyed, so she got up an hour earlier than before, destroying his hopes of helping someone else out, just part of the girl's evil plan to do something nice for him instead.
A red sedan slowly drifted by the magus, the driver, some older woman with greying hair, lazily sipping a coffee as she gave the student a jealous glare, likely remembering better days of when she was young and pretty before driving off, leaving the apprentice confused for a brief moment.
A moment passed as she hummed, watching as the vehicle began to vanish into the distance; she almost jumped out of her skin as a voice rang out in her mind, with a tone of perplexion, yet mingled with intrigue, 'I still find it strange you humans insist on driving in metal boxes...first chariots, and now these..." followed by a grumble of confusion.
The magus clenched her beating heart for dear life as it thudded in her chest, having completely forgotten about Rider, just walking out of the house like it was any other day when she had a Servant in her head... She gasped for air, "...It's a car...and can you please not scare me out of my skin at six in the morning?"
A hum reverberated within the girl's head, sending yet more shivers down her spine, with her innately knowing she would never get used to that feeling. A few moments passed in utter silence, making the magus wonder if the woman had decided to listen before she spoke once more, with just a hint of mockery in her tone, "...I recall you saying...we must be ready for anything, no?"
The student tried to respond but caught herself midway, not wanting to look like the crazy girl talking to herself in public...God, how embarrassing would that be? She lightly slapped her cheek to push the thought away, leaving a red mark, contrasting with the surrounding pearl-like skin before it slowly began to fade, opting for the safer approach within her own mind; "I don't think the other Masters are planning to give me a heart attack, Rider..."
A flock of birds flew overhead; their morning cries drawing the mage's attention as she raised a hand over her eyes to shield away the growing sunlight. A snort rang out in her head for just a second, only to fall away into a forced serenity once more, "...they may not need to...you're quite anxious...even for someone your age."
With a huff, the girl pulled against the shoulder strap of her bag, ignoring the relentless thud of her books bouncing against her leg until the container settled into place...wait...her brow furrowed, if she knew that...then... "have you been listening to my thoughts?... Can you listen to what I'm thinking?"
The honk of a distant car briefly drew her focus, but the Matou could practically feel the deadpan coming from the invisible Servant, with silence reigning as though the Greek didn't want to respond before- a sigh broke out, "We are telepathically speaking, and you question if I can read your mind?...-" but before the magus could sputter to recover from that, the woman continued, "No matter... and no, I haven't the need to know that which you don't wish to share... I'm simply observant; keeping track of my Master and any who pose a threat is one of my tasks."
Sakura kicked a rock, watching the small circle fly off into the distance as it clacked and bounced along the solid pavement. She blew a raspberry in absent-minded thought, earning yet another snort from within before the magus decided to ask, "And?... Have anything you want to share with me, or are we just going to sit here and braid each other's hair?"
The Greek quirked an unseen brow at the statement, remembering the relentless pestering her sisters brought upon her on the isle...a constant demand to make herself appear more lady-like...as though someone of her standing could be seen in such a way...no; she was far more suited to instilling fear than passion from mankind...but the thought still brought a sort of pained smile to the Servant, "I wouldn't be opposed, I...enjoy these chats...as of right now...the only ones I've spoken to are you and...actually, I never asked, what is your standing with that former Servant?"
Sakura leaned forward as she stood at a crosswalk, lazily checking both directions without so much as the sound of a car nearby, and with a shrug, she walked, observing the still unopen storefronts as their owners went about their business inside. The entire time, the mage's head was in the clouds; that kind of thing just wasn't something she thought about...Jack was basically the only constant in her life; the one person that the girl knew was always on her side...even if they argued sometimes, she still knew that. She clicked her tongue in absent thought before responding, "Well, you've heard the whole, 'he killed my adopted family'...thing...wow, that came out way worse than I... thought it would."
The student cleared her throat on instinct, utterly ignorant of the fact that the entire conversation was going on inside her head before coming to an awkward realization. With a sigh at her own air-headedness, she continued, "It's not something I like talking about, but-" she bit her cheek in mild discomfort, "...things weren't good, sure, my uncle tried to help, but there was only so much he could do when his father could kill all of us whenever he wanted to...and I-"
She stopped, looking out over the city as its colossal structures loomed in the distance, the ones she saw burned to a crisp all those years ago, now rebuilt as though the disaster never happened, with only a handful of people knowing the truth. A pained smile overcame the magus, "I gave up...I just didn't see a point in trying to live when someone so awful controlled everything I did... I was young, but...that's how I thought, then when the War started-" the strain began to dwindle from the girl's features, "he showed up."
The Greek remained quiet, just letting the girl tell her story, finding far more solace in listening than having to speak herself. Sakura paid it no mind, merely getting lost in her own thoughts, "Jack might be a lot of things people don't like...he's rude...confrontational...and has a massive anger problem but...-" the smile grew, "from the day I met him, he was the only person that seemed to really care about me...like he understood what I was going through and wanted to help, didn't matter who the guy pissed off in the process, he's stubborn like that.
Another hum broke out from the mighty Gorgon, sending an awkward vibration through the girl's mind, as though her ears expected to hear something, yet nothing came, the entire conversation unnaturally occurring within their mental connection. "Are you truly one to call others obstinate when you do just the same?... I've seen those...plushies of yours lying around; surely he's told you those are for children?"
The magus clenched a fist tight at the mere thought of someone insulting her beloved collection as her brow furrowed, only for the anger to flow away like a deflated balloon as her head dropped, "You're judgey...you know that?... Jack doesn't say anything about it...but he's always been like that-"
Sakura slowly rose from her slump as a shimmer of joy reflected in her deep purple orbs, no longer dull or lifeless as they once were, but actually having a purpose and a reason to move forward for herself and the people she cared about more than anything. "...He saved my life and took care of me when everyone else saw me as a burden or a tool...but not him, he's-" she sighed; not many words would fit how she felt about the person who made this entire situation possible, the one person the Matou would never doubt no matter what...well, one did, but it was kind of embarrassing to admit, but- she spoke the words out loud this time, although no one would hear it but her Servant, none of that mattered, "he's...my dad."
...
...
The Matou huffed in mild indignance as the seconds ticked by without a response, the one time she gets all emotional around someone, and they just ignore her?... "Well... aren't you gonna be all judgy about it?"
An audible sigh rang out in her head, a sort of melancholic sound as though yet more memories were drifting through the Servant's thoughts before the Greek responded, "...no, for I understand all too well how important one's family truly is... I suppose I was right about you then..."
As the magus turned a corner, she could see her Senpai's property looming in the distance, with a large shingled roof casting a shadow over the surrounding area, yet she quirked a brow, feeling nothing but perplexion, "What about me?"
A shiver ran through the girl once more as she felt an invisible hand tap her shoulder, only to turn and see nothing, and before she could chastise her Servant for trying to give her another heart attack, the woman spoke first, with a genuine sense of affection, utterly disregarding the usual emotionless tone she seemed so fond of, "...you may be a little ball of angst, but you're a sweet girl...though...what of that boy with the blue hair?"
Sakura completely deadpanned, losing all sense of interest in the conversation immediately, marching down the road toward one of the few people she genuinely cared for and looked forward to seeing every morning as she uttered a simple phrase, "We don't talk about Shinji."
...
Simultaneously
As the cracks of morning sunlight pierced through the haze of darkened clouds looming over the city, passersby could only watch in perplexion as a veritable bolt of raw electricity surged past them, appearing as little more than a whirl of cracking energy before vanishing into nothing, leaving only a scorching path in its wake as it crashed into the depths of the city once anew.
Processors tore through information in less than a second, calculating possible outcomes before coming to a resolution in what the human mind could only define as an instant, yet to him? It all happened all too slowly; his brain had long since adapted to its new modifications as data flowed through him, instinctively mapping a course through the streets he patrolled on a daily basis.
Sure, Raiden could have hacked into the city grid and gotten a bird's eye view across the various cameras strewn around Fuyuki, but there was a stark difference between seeing and experiencing things yourself. Human beings are and always will be unpredictable creatures, even if organizations like the Patriots try to prove otherwise...you can gather all the data you want and make as many "estimations" as possible, but all of that went out the window the second emotions came into play...but they knew that all along...
It took the killer years to actually comprehend what had happened at Big Shell; he was young and naive back then, and the words just didn't click in his head...like the man just wasn't capable of accepting that an ai could even be as intelligent as a human being, it felt wrong...unnatural. He rolled his blue eyes as they shimmered with electricity coursing through their grafted components before taking off at greater speeds, knowing how stupid it was in hindsight; here he was, more machine than human, and friends with a robot dog... a story that would be utterly impossible to understand without prior knowledge, but that information is exactly what the Patriots and their successors wanted to control.
The riverfront came and went as the warrior blitzed across the reflective surface, the same place he had brought Caster's rampage to an end all those years ago; he idly glanced at the bridge still looming over the waterway as an all too disgusting set of words came to mind, 'What we propose to do is not to control content, but to create context...' said using his wife's face...a spark burst off the man, crashing through the waves before dissipating into nothingness as steam rose in his wake.
That feeling...anger...it was just part of the puzzle, and the Patriots and their subsidiaries knew that all too well...at least the people at the top did; the rest were just roped into believing whatever sweet nothings they were told, and the idiots ate up the narrative like pig slop... the veteran glanced at his reflection on the surface of the water, watching as one orb remained a serene blue as the other burned a vibrant red, with both sides of him in agreement...it was a simple thing to hear, but a hard pill to actually swallow and take meaning from.
Humans are reactive creatures by nature; they take information in...sight, sound, smell, all of it a piece of their environment before it's processed and interpreted; each individual has a unique collection of prior experiences that form their current ideals...which make them respond, it's chaotic, but if you dictate the method and flow of information...the ways in which people encounter these new bits...then the responses are almost guaranteed.
As his hardened boots made contact with the soft soil along the shore, the soldier's form dropped as static collected around his metallic limbs before launching off the ground and into the sky, his blonde locks flowing with the morning breeze as internal components calculated a landing site before he even thought of jumping at all. Plenty of people knew the theories worked, and Armstrong was just one of them...simple, cause an international incident and pay off the media on both sides to make it look like the other side caused it, with no other source of information, people would follow whatever they said like helpless animals, desperate for guidance...
It's human nature to follow the crowd, to chant the same things, to believe in the same cause, like an organic domino effect, if enough people started shouting for war, others would follow, either too blind in their own hatred to see the truth or too scared to say otherwise. Raiden now knew how the line between how men thought and how computers operated was far more similar than anyone could believe; sure, the Patriots operated by proxy, using self-sufficient networks that profited off the war economy, but ai only had the role of controlling those things...people were involved in practically all sectors of it, deceived into taking some arbitrary position in the system, just like a processor working for a computer, simple toys tricked into acting in a function, all of them... war was never the end goal, not even close...but the human beings who take that warped narrative in don't need to know that, they just need to hear who to hate and where they live...wind them up and watch them go.
As buildings and streets drifted beneath the killer, he landed atop one, only to launch off once more, a plume of dust and lightning trailing behind him as he flew toward greater heights, his momentum carrying him forward, defiantly gliding against the forces of gravity, his thoughts wandering all the while, Raiden couldn't blame the average person for wanting some kind of purpose in life, the word alone feeling so elusive and distant, like something always out of reach no matter what you do, but it's a given.
From the day most people are born, they're told what to do and where to go, the same stuff you hear time and again like it was some tried and true process, and the same people feel lost when they end up with a life they didn't want. Motivation is a hard thing to find, that special something that draws the line between getting by and actually enjoying the world for what it is; it doesn't matter if you're an office worker or a soldier fighting on the frontlines or anything on that rainbow of opportunity in between, on some level, everyone feels the need to search for it themselves...but him?
Raiden knew what he was since he was a child but had buried and suppressed it for so long out of fear of what the man would become if he did... but that was hardly unique in his experience. Coming to terms with his identity gave the warrior an outside lens on how other people felt, but while the killer tended to hold himself back, they spent their days worried about what others would think, but that's just the problem of their interconnected world, you can't go a second without someone else being involved...but it's a give and take relationship, sure some people can drag you down into the oblivion of doubt and uncertainty, but others could lift you up all the same.
For Jack, his emergence happened because Monsoon, someone so alike yet so different from him, pushed the cyborg to his breaking point, challenging his false ideals until the facade of heroism fell into nothing...it was his undoing, but still, everything the man stood for rested on that moment... because of it, the ninja knew his purpose, he was a killer, warped and manipulated to become the inverse of everything humanity stood for, even though his time under the Patriots had long since ended, those ideals remained entrenched within his mind...a slave no longer, his conscious liberated, free to roam and choose whatever he wished, this life was his and his alone, for one has to understand imprisonment before they can walk free for the first time.
His boots collided with solid concrete, sending cracks along the surface of a towering high-rise before the Liberian raced straight upward, running along the broken material and toward the skies above. While the Grail War might bring about feelings of terror and grief for many, deep down, Raiden was excited for this...there was no point in denying it anymore; yeah, he had other factors tying him down, people that meant the world to him, but honestly? The very thought of being able to live that conflict all over again made his heart race as a grin grew along his pale face...this was what Raiden truly lived for; he wanted this to happen.
The roof audibly thudded as the man skidded to a stop, his perch overlooking the entire metropolis as thousands went about their daily lives, none the wiser of the chaos that was about to unfold all over again. Jack simply stood there a moment, letting the high winds wash over his pale skin, enjoying the sensation, something he couldn't have dreamed of in those early days of being a cyborg; the tech had come a long way; you don't realize how fragile the mind is when it's denied even the most basic functions.
He observed the people down below, some stopping at their local cafe or even some random corner store or other to get their daily necessities...honestly, at times, Raiden was a bit jealous of it all, not the organic aspect of being human...the man accepted his existence as a cyborg a long time ago, but he couldn't help but wonder what life would be like as just another person...if he could have put down the gun for good and just...settled down if that word meant anything at this point.
A frown grew on his face as he watched a father and son playing catch in a local park, impossible to see with the natural eye, but the veteran was anything but; every sense was honed to perfection, unchanging, maintained through mechanical precision. The ball went back and forth in a rhythmless fashion, with both seeming so happy...just like little John.
The killer sighed; ten years...it had been ten years since the man had seen his only son, and words couldn't come close to how much Jack missed him; sure, the two weren't all that alike...besides the fact that his son somehow looked like an exact copy of him, their personalities couldn't be more different, where Raiden was pragmatic, his son kept to the clouds, reading comics, playing with that toy sword of his or even...calling his dad a hero.
A pained smile graced the cyborg's features, a hero, that's what John called him every time he came home, asking about his latest adventure and what bad guys he stopped...by that definition...maybe...but fiction often doesn't meet reality all that well, you'll read stories of men larger than life itself, getting the girl, taking down the villain, good versus evil...simple...but the world was anything but straightforward.
Being a parent was a difficult thing for Raiden...he never really had one to call his own, sure David was a role model, but they met when the samurai was already 26; he wasn't done growing...you never are, but those formative years had came and went, leaving nothing but a bottomless pit of rage and confusion buried beneath a fake personality...how could someone like him be a father to anyone?... Don't even get him started on his adoptive family...Solidus might have raised him, but that didn't make them close...John deserved better than that.
As the Liberian glanced at his hud, the man gave himself a slight nod; almost time...that word didn't sit well with him like everything had some kind of finality to it... someday Raiden would have to tell his son what he really is, and the killer swore he would do it just...when the time was right, knowing John would probably hate him the rest of his life...but the kid deserved to see the truth when he was old enough... yet another of the things that would come to haunt him, the first looming overhead all too soon.
Jack slowly shifted his stance, utilizing years of hardened experience to immerse himself in his surroundings, becoming virtually unseen as he lay flat atop the jagged roof, watching down below for any signs of motion... thinking and planning were his environment, where tactical behaviors overwhelmed all personal connections, but lately, the samurai found himself too immersed in what others thought of him...well, more like what one person thought.
With your average person, the mercenary wouldn't pay it any mind; he'd abandoned missions and former allies with the click of a few keys and a change in orders...hell, the soldier had killed more than his share of people who thought he was their friend, but that's all too common on the battlefield, you find yourself and someone you know on opposing sides, and only one walks away, there was a mutual understanding to it, but...Raiden wasn't Snake...he couldn't just bury his emotions beneath layers of apathy and hostility...no, he needed to find a way to say goodbye properly...just leaving wasn't an option, although, at one point, that's what he would have done, find himself a nice bar and get piss drunk to forget it all, but not anymore.
*Ding
His eyes shifted, zooming into the distance as his systems locked onto a familiar signal, scanning through the crowds of people that soon spread apart, his focus landing on a familiar set of brown pigtails as they swayed with the morning breeze, their thin form enveloped in the distinctive red overcoat laid atop the Homurahara Academy uniform, Rin, a magus in training and one of the daughters of Tokiomi Tohsaka...right on schedule.
It was actually a pretty straightforward affair keeping track of the girl, she never bothered or even knew of her uncle's tracking spell placed all those years ago, although at this point, his mana had basically dissipated into nothing; the cyborg could still feel that familiar, distinctive pull toward the only man he'd willingly call a Master.
To the average person, she was just another schoolgirl, a student trying to make her way in the world, albeit with an attitude problem; the few times they'd actually spoken face to face, the kid wore the fakest smile the killer had ever seen, it didn't take a genius to figure out how highly she thought of herself...Tohsaka this, Tohsaka that, living up to the family name, typical dynasty shit he'd encountered in warzones before, the same mentality that got more people killed than not, thinking that greatness was hereditary, but wanting to show what you're made of, yeah, not all that rare in his experience, but still stupid nevertheless, but it was pretty normal for a mage from what the former Servant had seen.
For soldiers, strategy and adaptability meant walking a line between annihilation for yourself or the enemy; it took a calm mind and an oriented mentality to carry things out as efficiently as possible...mages were not like that; they prided themselves on their inherent superiority, hell, half of the ones that came after Raiden didn't even take him seriously, thinking the ninja would listen to their speeches about why he should give up and fall into the inevitable...yeah, yeah, the man had heard it from Monsoon enough times in their little encounter to last a lifetime, those ones tended to beg the most, not that the cyborg had any mercy to give them.
His systems scrambled, recording and noting all potential tells the girl was giving as she walked, coming to a pause at an intersection as her brow furrowed, swiping a hand angrily through her brown locks, opening her mouth as if to retort before clamping shut, soon falling into her act of normality once again. It really didn't take much effort for the Liberian to realize she, out of everyone else in this city, was the most likely to become a Master; why she wanted the Grail, Raiden could only guess, but he'd seen the kid's potential enough to take her seriously after that incident at the bar all those years ago, he kept tabs on anyone of importance, well, most...not like Emiya's kid was much of a threat, considering he was at the Matou house more often than not, the mercenary didn't feel the need to spy on him all that often.
A distant ship horn blared, drawing the attention of many bystanders as they went about their day, some trying to lean just beyond the frame of the various buildings along the riverfront to get a peak at the mechanical sound. But as the people remained distracted, the warrior watched the girl simply gaze about as though she were sightseeing, spinning on her heels lazily before beginning a slow march through town, skipping school altogether.
It was a simple plan, really; Raiden knew that, but those tended to work best for him...observe, record, and eliminate the potential threat, just like the old days before cyborgs destroyed the concept or need for stealth warfare...but a promise drove the ninja to do this here and now, to 'keep his nieces safe' Kariya had asked that much of him...but doing that was going to be complicated.
He could lie and say there wouldn't be any playing favorites, but that's never how things play out in the heat of the moment; the cyborg would try to keep both siblings alive, but the realities of conflict never let everyone walk away unscathed. Jack gripped a mechanical fist as sparks crackled off his synthetic skin, knowing that if it came down to it, he'd take care of his own before the sister that had abandoned her; call it cruel, but the samurai wasn't one for being an idealist, sure, he'd try, but at the end of the day, if circumstances changed, there wouldn't be any hesitation in making that hard call.
Raiden's internal systems mapped the magus's path as she took a sudden turn, heading down a side street toward the still largely desolate section of town, the same place devastated by the Grail...but why?...there was nothing but open spots for an ambush there, and in a conflict where the public couldn't know about what was going on...there wasn't any place more perfect than that...no matter, if she wanted to make this easier for him, then Jack wouldn't complain.
He sighed, before slowly rising, the rooftop creaking beneath his multiton form as the fighter leaped across the buildings, ignoring the commotion beneath as his focus lay solely on his target as she lazily strolled the streets without any sense of urgency. This was going to be a long day.
...
Hours had gone by, with little changing besides the gradual decline from urban concrete toward the rustic reclamation of nature in an abandoned part of town...that sort of slow crawl from prosperity to poverty one sees if they looked hard enough in any city, regardless of where they were. He maintained a safe distance, simply observing through his enhanced senses, noting that as the Tohsaka got further from the crowds, her expressions and silence shifted into the occasional word or huff of indignance...letting her guard down, talking to some unseen person.
Years on the battlefield had hardened the killer, let him see the absolute limits of the human psyche, and there was a very blurred line between thinking out loud and talking to someone... that sort of thing mattered when every soldier had comms online practically all the time. He inwardly cringed, thinking back to how systematic it was to take out the target, then their communications in one swift motion, otherwise you brought the hordes down on top of you, a mistake that cost a lot of rookies their lives, too caught up in the kill to comprehend reality, the same way the magus confidently marched through empty field trails, beginning to mumble out loud the farther out she got.
Raiden had kept track of it all, not getting much viable information; it felt more like she was giving a sort of tour, talking about the history of the city and where they were...it's unbelievable how overconfident some mages are, thinking they were alone or protected by some halfassed magical senses or spells; yeah, if this was the early days, the cyborg would easily have been spotted, but after years of encountering magic users of all sorts, they fell into categories, all relying on the same basic things at different levels.
Avoiding them wasn't hard; concealing your presence in the real world, or the magical one, was practically the same thing, giving off no energy or sign of your existence, avoiding the security systems, trailing far from the reaches of both their senses and their extensions. Most humans wouldn't have the patience to move inches within hours, but the soldier was trained for this sort of life, and more, and his target was self-taught and overconfident; it just came down to waiting for her Servant to show themselves...stealth was the only option here, and he didn't know or trust Rider enough to bring her and Sakura to a fight just yet...one was aloof, the other too green, but honestly?
The cyborg crawled along the forest floor through layers of matted leaves and wet mud, uncaring for the filth collecting over his form, simply watching as the magus stared off a cliff's edge that overlooked the city, taking in the sights. This type of work was his element, alone, just you and your thoughts guiding every action within hostile territory; the Snakes were elite for a reason, not so much an organization, but an identity only given to the best of Big Boss's progeny, inheriting his skills and identity through genetic replication...and with him?
Genetics are just one half of that coin; the other, ideology, the means in which someone interprets the world and chooses their course accordingly; his life acts as a proof of concept that beliefs extend far beyond the blood he shared with the other Snakes...sure, those traits were injected into him at a young age, and unlike so many others who suffered from deformations and early deaths, his DNA accepted them, driving his father's idea that he was somehow special...
The supposed Gulf War syndrome was just another smokescreen the public ate up in their drive for continuing pointless wars in foreign lands, desperate for any kind of cause to call their own...how it all worked in Jack's favor, he wouldn't know, nor did he particularly care, all that mattered to him was that he had the skills to remain unseen, ready to strike at a moments n-
*Ding
A pulse of energy ran through the cyborg as his sensors picked up a presence, appearing out of nowhere but settling into place within another part of the vast treeline. His systems whirled to life, the optical sensors surrounding his eyes granting him a full range of sight without having to move so much as an inch, scanning through the foliage yet finding nothing before-
*Rustle
It was faint, almost undetectable, the slightest crunch of a set of leaves, and to the untrained mind, it would likely be thought of as an animal and little more, but the weight and vibrations meant it could only be a person...no, the way they showed up out of nowhere meant it could only be a Servant but w-
Time came to an utter crawl as a shimmer within the darkness forced the cyborg's gaze to zoom in for greater detail, meeting little more than shadows as the seconds ticked by, his blue eyes widening as they spotted a pair of fiery red orbs gleaming toward the Tohsaka. Their form remained unseen, yet the man could tell this was a hunter, his stance, hidden within the natural shielding of their environment, with footsteps so light, only his advanced systems could detect such a thing...Was this the new Assassin? Or maybe even an Archer watching from a distance?
*Bump-Bump
Jack's heart began to race, knowing that this might be an opportunity to wipe out two Servants at once if he played his cards right...neither knew he was here...it was simple, watch the two go at it, and either one dies, or both are left so weak they can't stop him from coming in and ending it then and there. A grin began to grow along the killer's features as his hands clenched against the soft soil, tearing tracks through the surface.
A cold breeze drifted across the landscape, wafting over the magus as she visibly shivered, though not from the biting cold of the autumn; no, the student turned, facing off toward the Servant as she mouthed something about being watched, raising a fist to her chest, exposing the vibrant red command seal atop the back of her palm, a simple pair of spheres with a jagged barb pointing outward...fitting for someone like her, yet the true heiress gave off an aura anything but straightforward, she somehow knew something was wrong...yet did nothing, just staring off toward an unseen predator as static rang through the air.
Seconds ticked by before the Tohsaka turned on her heel and casually began a walk back to town with no sense of urgency or concern in her step, driving the cyborg into utter perplexion before his focus shifted, realizing the Servant had left entirely without him noticing...maybe he was getting sloppy, he shook the thought away, knowing that his target was on the move once again.
...
Raiden had spent his entire life studying enemy activity, memorizing codes of battle that would seem obsolete and utterly useless in modern warfare, yet through crafted expertise, he became one of the most proficient killers to ever live. He was ruthless, cunning, a predator in the night stalking his prey, capable of predicting their destination with little more than facial expressions and walking habits; the warrior had seen it all, fighting his way through the Sons of Liberty and into the hell of an ever-expanding technological framework, where organic components were replaced by advanced cybernetic augmentation.
War is an ever-changing and constantly expanding concept; to deny that was to ignore reality itself; where at one time, men would hunt with little more than a bow and their senses to track their prey's footsteps atop matted soil, a cyborg could do that and more, trace heat signatures, detect the most minute of sounds, and predict, plan, and coordinate thousands of strategies within nanoseconds. Jack was adaptive, constantly flowing with the times, not bound by any code but his own principles, the battlefield was his true home, where everything clicked together, and he could simply follow its course.
The sun had set hours ago, leaving the killer with far more leeway in his operation, knowing that with patience, the inevitable payoff would happen...and he was partially right; that other Servant hadn't gone anywhere; no, they were following the magus all the same, appearing in and out of existence as a brief flicker of light, granting him more detail with each observation as he trailed far behind...forcing the other hunter to become the hunted, although the man had no idea what was happening.
His appearances were short and far between, a set of flowing blue hair here, then a shivering silver plating atop an equally azure bodysuit. One moment the man stood atop a roof's edge; the next, he was gone, stalking from some alleyway or deserted section of the roadways lining the city...just what Servant was he dealing with?... They couldn't be an Assassin; they had so many tells it was practically impossible...but there was some skill to their movements...not unrefined, just...struggling within their environment; sure the system supposedly gave them an understanding of the modern world, but it didn't mean comfort.
Raiden could only guess this spirit was anything but modern, appearing in the most random of places without any sense of direction; mechanical parts aside, urban landscapes were perfect for staying hidden, with a nearly infinite number of dark passageways above and below the city...but this man's gleaming red eyes reflected a sense of frustration and confusion in those brief seconds he showed himself, completely exposed...It didn't take a genius to figure out that the Tohsaka knew what the man was doing, leading him on some wild goose chase through town...but why was she heading toward the school of all places?...
The cyborg understood a lot of things, but his lived experience was on the battlefield or preparing for conflict...understanding how young people thought was something beyond him; Rin was just as green, if not worse than Sakura in all senses of the word, self-trained, full of herself, lacking any experience on the ground...but it might be playing to her advantage here...the magus had no tells to give, casually strolling with a hum of innocence through empty sidewalks toward her destination, a place no one would think to go, leading a frustrated Servant along for the ride...a light smirk grew along the Liberian's features, clever.
...
Later
Raiden hated waiting; sure, he could be patient when he wanted to be, but if you were to call him that? No, he'd reject it immediately; the samurai's life started out as a crawl through trial and tribulation, but he had gotten used to a constant spree of action since the fall of the Patriots, even if work was primarily in third-world nations...well, he had his fun and got paid for it...hell, the last ten years were practically a sideshow to what was waiting for him, but it was driving him insane not being the instigator for once.
He perched himself in one of the many classrooms strewn about the building, keeping an eye on the magus through infrared sensors built into his augmented eyes. While your average trained killer might shimmy up the side or even pick the locks, Jack had basically lost all sense of caring after watching a kid walk in circles for hours, instead quietly ripping a door off its hinges with his bare hand, and, oh so gently, placing the crumpled mess on the ground...he really lost touch with his roots, didn't he?
...
...
Oh well, he shrugged away the feeling, knowing those days were long since over anyways, instead choosing to focus on the present as the warrior studied the scene before him as a grass-laden courtyard lay open between the various buildings that made up the school grounds, one of the few areas the man actually knew very little about, not that it mattered, places like this left Raiden feeling unsettled, like a life he was denied...the cyborg accepted it for what it was, but there was a pit in his stomach that the ninja liked to avoid, not that it mattered.
As the Tohsaka stood firm amidst the empty lot, a shimmer appeared beside her, a gradually growing apparition taking form before the cyborg's very eyes. Like a roaring flame of color, a figure burned into life, their hardened, steel-plated boots digging into the earth with an almost inaudible crunch against the dry material. The glow only increased as it went upward, revealing blackened layers of cloth interwoven with strengthened clasps, much like what the cyborg used to wear before losing his organic body. A cold night breeze cried through the air, pushing the layers of clouds so high above aside as a burning red waistcoat materialized, flowing with the motion as a tan fist clenched as though to confirm their own existence, wearing a jacket of the same fiery cloth, overlaid atop a strengthed armor nestled against the man's skin, culminating in a hardened grimace with a glare from a pair of grey eyes to match all while their slicked back, bleach white hair surged into reality before the flames dispersed, revealing the Servant that the killer had been waiting for all this time.
*Schwing
His azure counterpart landed with little more than a crunch against the ground, having lept from some rooftop above as his boots dragged to a grinding stop, revealing his form in its entirety. The two men were opposites in nearly every facet where one wore red, the other was blue, while one had a tan complexion, the other stood paler than the moon...where one materialized a pair of intricate short swords in each hand, one a midnight black coated in a complex, glowing red lining, the other a heavenly white, both adorned by a yin and yang...perfect for short-range combat when used properly, albeit that sort of thing required more skill than one could imagine, where one mistake could be fatal.
The moonlight piercing through the clouds above illuminated the man's face as an excited grin overtook his calm demeanor, and in a burst of light, the predatory Servant materialized his own weapon, yet another complete contrast, it appeared as a simple red spear with traveling lines of metallic vines traversing its smooth fiery surface, as though the setting sun had been cast into solid metal. Raiden could only hum in mild interest; he never got a chance to fight Lancer in the last war, did he?...
Probably for the best, people might romanticize the sword and call it an art style, but it was put out of use by its longer successors, the perfect weapon in melee-based combat, capable of keeping a distance, cracking through thin armor...but more importantly, practically anyone could pick up a spear and figure out how to thrust, numbers tended to outmatch even the best of soldiers at a certain point, just another stepping stone into the modern world. The killer wasn't much of a fan; a lance tended to be bulky and was practically useless in an enclosed space; not only that, but their defense was basically nonexistent, reliant on keeping the enemy away, and in a time where cyborgs could move at the speed of light? Yeah, there wasn't much use unless you were an expert.
That sort of thing was a give and take for the Snake; sure, they were trained to handle a myriad of weapons in practically any circumstance, but that was the main concern; Raiden was naturally skilled with a blade, his adoptive father had instilled a respect and sense of awe for those dated weapons at a young age. His years spent in the military in both virtual reality and sheer experience had granted the warrior a practically unmatched ability when it came to modern weaponry; firearms, explosives, advanced vehicles, he could almost work anything at just a glance.
The last War spared him the problem of facing unfamiliar weapons; sure, Caster had that weird book of his with those giant creatures, and Rider rode around on a flying chariot, but there were still similarities to his own life; who knows how many Metal Gears he had seen at this point, or how many enemies that happened to have anomalous powers...too many to count; Lancer was an unknown class that had an advantage over him in an outright fight...it might be better to pick him off sooner rather than later, last thing Raiden needed was a fight that wasn't on his terms...this War was going to be an uphill battle from the start, and the samurai had to get with the times.
The ground burst as the men flowed into action, one would think this kind of fight would end in an instant, but there were so many irregularities to consider; Lancer was better than Mistral; Raiden knew this at a glance, from his stance to the sheer confidence radiating from his form, not out of misguided pride, but a genuine knowledge of his own skill...but his style was bizarre, completely unorthodox for his choice of weapon.
Both flew at the same pace, flashing in and out of sight as their blades collided, with the spearman throwing away his greatest advantage without any regard for the consequences, getting up close and personal as his thrusts proved true, only to be blocked by those strange short swords...they would shatter each time, only to reform in a burst of light...To the human eye, this fight was beyond comprehension, more a series of explosive impacts with the occasional flicker of red and blue dancing around the battlefield.
Jack saw all of it in great detail, taking notes on their combat styles, memorizing, and slowly predicting what would happen next through a mixture of software and outright experience. It felt more like a game of cat and mouse, running around and not truly going for the killing blow. Lancer would slam a boot into the ground, cracks appearing along the surface as his arms clenched, thrusting forward to pierce through his opponent's armored torso, only to fall short as he deflected an oncoming strike from above. His spear would glow in those brief intervals, not losing its momentum...sacrificing thrust for a larger swing. His counterpart would do the same; one moment, a hand was empty, only for him to mumble something before another blade would appear as though he had never lost it, crashing down with the same weight and force as before.
The cyborg gripped a fist as his mind settled; choosing a target was a far more difficult thing than one can imagine; let's say one was weaker than the other; either way, if you kill one, the other has more time to prepare or learns something about you in the process. Information was key in a War like this, knowing who's a Master, what their Servant is and their identity could mean the difference between going in blind and losing entirely, or having the foresight to plan beforehand, Raiden just didn't know enough about Rin's Servant; his ability to just manifest weapons wasn't like what the Liberian could do.
Sure, Raiden had a literal arsenal on him at all times, kept in storage through some pocket dimension tech Otacon tried explaining to him a long time ago; there was basically no other way he could have run around Big Shell carrying five rifles, six pistols, and even a grenade launcher without making a lot of noise...he tried not to think about that stuff, it tended to just give you a headache, it worked, roll with it.
His focus shifted toward the blue-tinged Lancer as the man slid back from his latest collision, coming to a stop as he dragged a finger along the length of his demonic weapon, an excited grin along his face before launching into another assault. This one seemed like more of an open book; his strikes were more probes than anything, trying to feel his target out, and the way he followed them through town...it just didn't add up, and hell, his War started the exact same way, why would it be any different now? This was some kind of reconnaissance, but it raised the question...would he try the same with Sakura at some point?
Raiden sighed, knowing that at some point, she would have to face the reality of what these conflicts were truly like, but he didn't know what she or Rider were really capable of; one was a half-baked magus and the other...well, the cyborg didn't know much about Medusa besides turning people to stone...there was just too much risk in letting a fight like that happen...no; Lancer would die tonight, there was just no alternative... as his attention settled on reality, the man quirked a brow, noting how both men had stopped fighting, just...staring off to the side at...something.
His synthetic eyes flickered through various lenses, seeing nothing until he tried infrared, watching the fleeting image of a human form running off into one of the distant buildings surrounding the battlefield. Lancer reacted before the killer could even realize a bystander had seen everything, one of the few rules of a Grail War that were followed so loosely they practically didn't exist in the last one, with the Servant taking off at breakneck speeds following the person before vanishing into a burning flurry of colorful flames, the sight giving the Liberian an idea...this could be an opportunity. Static crackled along the samurai's talons as energy surged within him, a dwindled flame becoming a roaring inferno within his person as electricity surged across him.
*BOOM
The wooden floor exploded into an array of burning fragments as the ninja surged out of the building, racing across the campus at breakneck speeds as a trail of light followed in his wake; a simple plan, really, in his war, there really wasn't much effort to cover anything up, more like the bare minimum to convince the public to not panic; if Lancer even cared enough to chase someone, well, that meant he played by the books. It would be quick, catch the guy off guard in the middle of his chase, don't give him a second to react, then whirl around and finish of the Tohsaka girl's Servant...simple on paper...but...no, he was done playing the waiting game, Raiden needed this. His eyes burned a fierce red as frustration took hold, deciding against running along the long side of campus, changing course midway, and taking a running leap into the skies above.
A trail of both surging light and dust followed the warrior as he spun through the air, uncaring for the forces of gravity as they took hold over his multiton form, pulling him down at greater speeds toward the roof below. Wind billowed through his bleach-blonde locks as his eyes burned to life, watching as the figure came to a grinding stop, yet he didn't know why...only capable of seeing a faint outline turning back and forth as they helplessly stood in one of the winding hallways, it had be a civilian, there was no other way.
*BOOM
Raiden crashed through the roof, breaking through layers of concrete, rebar, and insulation before slamming onto the floor below as it buckled beneath him. He had landed in some classroom or other, practically making the place explode on impact as dust and various student pieces adorned the room; he paused a moment, thinking back to the handful of parent-teacher conferences that the killer was forced to endure...wasn't this room... he glanced down, seeing the remains of some poor soul's desk the man had landed on; inwardly wincing as he spotted an intricate flower carved into the woodwork next to the letters S.M...of course it was...okay, not telling her about this one. He tried to see through the layers of dust and ash, yet his lenses couldn't pierce the veil of waste surrounding him, forcing the samurai to take action.
Wasting no time, the killer took off, charring layers of broken wood as he raced toward the sliding door, running straight through it as if it didn't exist, a plume of dust exploding into the hallway as he slid across, his metallic hands tearing through polished flooring as the killer skidded to a stop, seeing little more than the winding passageways of closed-off rooms lying ahead.
*BZZZT
Static raced around his form as he took off like a veritable lightning bolt, knowing time wasn't on his side; if everything went according to plan, he would be home free, but in the worst-case scenario, Raiden would be left out in the open with two hostile Servants. His eyes flickered a dazzling red at the thought, high risk, high reward, just how the man liked things.
Although the samurai could move around the speed of light, his sense of direction wasn't nearly as adept, hitting dead ends and having to wrap back around, only to hit another wall. It cost him valuable seconds the man couldn't spare...Not that he had much experience with how a school, or even one in Japan, was laid out like...everything quite literally looked the same, no signs, no directions, just doors, and barren passageways.
It felt like an endless maze, crashing through narrow hallways adorned with little to no decoration, with only his enhanced lenses guiding him forward. His lenses zoomed, piercing through layers of wall and material as he glided across the property, seeing the unmistakable thrust of an arm...then the slow fall of a body, a red outline going flat against the floor. It brought a faint grimace to his face, his gaze hardening, another death caused by his failure...something the warrior was long since used to by now; all he could do now was avenge whoever that was.
Jack gritted his teeth as he watched the Servant's form slowly turn back the way he came, striding off as his form began to bubble and disperse through the haze of infrared vision. No. He took off at greater speeds, his form becoming little more than a whirl of light illuminating the school as it appeared and vanished within an instant.
He slid around a corner, kicking off the floorboards as the force tore the walls apart, blasting material outside with a burst of power, rushing after the Servant as he watched his trail fade into the distance. It happened in an instant; he slammed a hardened boot down atop a pool of blood leaking from the corpse as he passed by, and though the cyborg paid it no mind, a shimmer of familiar, rust-colored hair, swaying in the artificial wind from his pursuit, is that...Time slowed to an utter crawl within that split second as he focused on the body as it lay flat on the ground...that hair, and the skin...was that...Shirou?...
Despite the lack of detail, it took hardly a second for the killer to realize who it was. The kid was at his house more often than not, especially after that father of his died a few years back, taken by whatever wasting sickness he got from the Grail...the question remained on the killer's mind...why was the kid here?... he glanced down at his unmoving hands, seeing a faded, yet undefined command seal atop his right...a candidate but not a real Master?...oh well, one less issue to worry about.
Call it cruel all you want, but Raiden wasn't one for forming attachments to everyone and everything he interacted with; the Emiya kid was little more than a potential problem down the line anyways. He and Kiritsugu weren't on speaking terms by any means, even after that meeting of theirs; hell, if anything, it was clear both wanted the other dead, and while Jack couldn't bring himself to orphan another kid, the assassin was just too weak to do anything to the cyborg. Regardless, the question remained, how to tell Sakura abo-
Within that moment, the killer saw the slightest twitch of a finger and a pained gasp as a single golden brown orb opened, slowly shifting around before settling on him. Jack's eyes flickered, examining the wound on the boy's chest as blood seeped onto the floor...straight through the heart; he lightly shook his head as static began to crackle around him once again, facing forward as he realized that Lancer was getting away, knowing that there was nothing to do for the kid, and no need to finish him off, things would take care of themselves.
*BOOM
The Emiya was left there, dazed, confused, and feeling an unimaginable pain as he struggled to take a breath through viscera-flooded lungs, wincing oh so slightly as he heard a distant window explode as glass rained down across the floor. He tried to speak, to call out to the man he knew he saw just moments ago, struggling to raise a hand as his luminous form flickered off into the night, only for a splatter of blood to escape his lips, staining his pale skin in his own fluids before slumping over, ignorant of the new set of footsteps rushing through the building toward him, the world going dark.
...
An hour later
Frustrated didn't come close to describing what Raiden felt, having run around the city on wild chase after child chase, all in the pursuit of taking care of one of the many problems on his never-ending list of bullshit that needed to happen. It took literally a few seconds of being distracted for the Servant to disappear on the cyborg, the sheer thought frustrating him to no end.
The veteran flew down the darkened alleyways aligning the main thoroughfares of Fuyuki, following traces of energy as they dissipated before his very eyes. A spark of electricity crackled off his pale hands, dancing through the moonlight-lit landscape before fizzling out into mere sparks, with him taking off at even greater speeds. You take a glance at a dead body, don't even poke it with a stick, and you get this situation, chasing a Servant through town, hoping for him to run right back to his Master, but instead, the man just went on patrol, likely looking for another victim before pausing, running off in some random direction, leaving the Liberian both confused and pissed about the entire situation.
Jack had lost track of the half-baked hunter during his chase, trying to maintain his distance while also following the illusive man, and it ended in what Snake would call another one of his blunders. He lost track of him, having to run around the city like a blind madman for quite a while, refusing to come home empty-handed until his internal radar pinged an energy spike across town, and so here the cyborg was, running at inhuman speeds like he always did, crashing toward what he knew was a fight waiting to happen. Raiden was done dancing to an old tune, stealth wasn't going to work for him, and it was stupid to think he could go back to that mindset.
The streets were completely empty, even as the soldier changed course, running along the main roads running through town; lately, people had been too scared to even go out past sundown, and honestly? The warrior couldn't blame them, it was like these Wars caused a spike in everything, crime, murder, and the unspeakable things he had killed so many people for doing; sure, the cyborg was making headway, but he could only be so many places at once...he wouldn't admit that people might be scared of the insane vigilante going on a killing spree...couldn't be him.
Raiden flickered across the town in seconds, taking a running jump as he leaped from building to building, crossing entire blocks in record time as he flew through the skies without a regard for gravity's hold, his sensors going wild as energy levels spiked and fell in a rapid, inconsistent pace. Not that a fall like that would hurt the cyborg anyways; his augmented limbs could take a fall from the stratosphere and barely even creak, not that he would pay attention to it anyways; pain only drove the killer forward, making him move that much faster, reminding him that he was still aliv-
*WHOOSH
In the distance, a familiar property loomed ahead as a blinding flash of red light burst into the night sky for just a moment before dispersing into darkness once again...but that house...of course, Raiden would recognize it; he'd scoped the place out more times than anyone could imagine, with a haphazard wall surrounding an old fashioned Japanese estate, with various layers of trees and shrubbery adorning the site, making observation all too easy...the same place he and that failed assassin made their deal...it made no sense, why were they fighting in a dead kid's house?
Before the Liberian could even begin to figure out what was happening, a familiar figure leaped from within the compound, his hardened boots clicking against the tile roofing as he took off into the city... A predatory grin grew on the former Berserker's face; completely disregarding his confusion, the warrior's mind settled on its target; no longer caring for anything but the hunt, Jack took off into the night, knowing that this little game was going to end here and now...he was sick of doing nothing.
In a split second, the cyborg's boots dug into the earth, clawing their way through the frozen ground as energy surged within him; uncaring for the consequences, keeping his distance did nothing but let his target dance circles around him for hours; he tried to play the waiting game, he tried to be calm and collected like he used to be...A waste of fucking time. His hands slammed downward, taking a runner's stance as electricity surged across his entire form, blanketing the warrior in a veil of raw voltage as rocks and debris began to rise around his luminous presence, his internal targetting systems lining up as his foe began to vanish into fizzling particles once again, driving a new wave of rage within him...no.
*BOOM
The blue-haired Celt tensed the second the sound reached his ears, his brow furrowing in mild annoyance, his orders ever present within his mind to observe and do nothing more...the antithesis to his code, living life to the fullest, be it in peace or in war, doing everything to the best of one's ability, he visibly scoffed, not with this joke of a Master apparently.
His red eyes shifted, feeling a pursuing presence approaching from behind through years of hardened instincts, driven into his skull by a plethora of teachers and experiences that would make the average person buckle in fear, but the child of light was anything but ordinary, radiating ferocity and passion wherever he traveled on his journeys...So, the little lady decided to chase him after all?...a sharp grin began to grow as his form slowly rematerialized; as an updraft of wind billowed through the spearman's hair, he spoke with a sense of mild respect interlaced with raw excitement, slowly turning to face his foe once again, "So you decided to come at me after all?...not bad Sab-"
*BZZZT
His red eyes could only widen as he turned, seeing nothing more than a shadowed figure overhead coated in layer upon layer of electricity as the traveling energy illuminated a maddened sneer. The cyborg raised his arm high as prana exploded within his augmented form, steam billowing out of his suit sleeve in waves as his metallic fingers clenched, audibly popping as his elbow bent. With a roar of fury, he crashed down at untold speed, the Celt trying to measure out of the way to no avail as several tons of Patriot steel slammed into his face, twisting and tearing through layers of skin, muscle, and bone as lighting screamed through his system boiling any blood that escaped into a fine mist before he rocketed off, toward the ground below.
*CRASH
The Servant bounced along the abandoned roadway like a rock over water, each collision tearing into his battle suit, revealing more layers of shredded flesh as he flew through the urban center, losing momentum with each explosive impact before skidding to an utter stop on his back. His dazed mind could hardly react or even respond to what had happened, staring up at the sky as blood pooled from his shattered nose, the burning sensation of thousands of volts refusing to dwindle even as a purple pyre erupted across the wound, attempting to seal the damage to little avail.
*BUMP-BUMP
Guided by instinct alone, the Celt's gaze flashed toward the sky as a bright object flew across the darkened abyss above; with a click of his tongue, the man wasted no time, forcing his wounded body to act, rolling backward the world briefly spun into utter nonsense, whether it was from the sudden motion or the impact on his skull, the Servant couldn't say, but the moment his boots impacted the ground, he launched back, sliding along the dotted white line just as the projectile slammed into where he once stood in a massive explosion of electricity intermingled with dust and rubble.
*BOOM
A crater formed on impact as a swirling storm of electric dust whirled around the shrouded cyborg like a haze of fog; Raiden slowly stood, his mechanical components audibly clicking as his eyes flashed a brilliant red, piercing through the smoke as though it didn't exist. A dark chuckle escaped the warrior in anticipation of the onslaught to come, "I'm not much of a Saber... honor and pride aren't really my thing...never have been, never will be, but-"
His voice grew more dry and raspy by the moment as his counterpart began to take an interest, emerging from the recesses of his mind as the soldier took a step forward, slamming a hardened boot onto the ground as the storm surrounding him flew to the wayside, revealing the Liberian as he stood with an ever-growing grin as he studied his confused prey, Jack clenched a fist so tight his metallic knuckles audibly popped as he gripped an unseen object, feeling his inherited blade humming to life within it once again, the sensation only making his smile grow wider, another chuckle escaped him, "I'm sure we can have some fun, won't we, Lancer?"
The Celt stood there a moment, his mighty spear appearing in his hand within a dazzling burst of purple flames, its red color contrasting with the surrounding darkness interspersed with the occasional street light. He lightly grimaced as a flash of pain forced the Servant to raise a hand, holding his broken nostrils shut as he forced a spray of blood out and onto the ground below, staining its colorless surface in a pool of viscera.
The man hummed as he took in his opponent's appearance, ghostly pale skin overlaid a blackened suit...blonde hair swirling over a pair of burning red eyes...it clicked together at once within his mind, remembering a certain conversation with a certain Master of his...Lancer's frown grew at the thought of that man; he spat to the side, his gaze narrowing as he focused on his foe, "So you're the one that boss of mine is all up in arms about?-" He scoffed "If you're the kind of coward that attacks someone from behind, I don't know what he's so afraid of."
The cyborg shrugged, raising a free hand in indifference as lightning crackled around him, his combat systems coming online for the inevitable, pulling up saved files and simulations formulated since the moment he encountered the spirit. "Really?... From what I've seen, you've done nothing but pick fights and then run off like a fucking coward the entire night."
Raiden slowly began to circle the Servant as the blue-haired spearman did the same, their boots clicking in unison against the pavement as the samurai's grin only grew as his grip tightened, feeling a deep excitement rushing into his very soul, "...No, your boss put you up to this, didn't he?"
The man huffed, running a hand down the length of his spear, adjusting his grip as its metallic surface settled into place, his brow furrowed as he spoke, "Was I really that obvious?..." getting no response, an audible grumble echoed before the man spat a mixture of saliva and blood onto the ground, "Tch, that's the problem with being a Servant, you don't get a damn say in anything...nothing but rules and command seals keeping us in line." he briefly let go, raising a thumb toward himself as he spoke, "if it were up to me, I'd have fought until one of us dropped dead then and there, that's what a man does...you know why?"
In a burst of flames, the damage vanished into purple particles flickering away with the evening winds as they grew more intense by the second; the man swiped an open palm over the horizon as though he wished to strike reality itself, "My pride might be in my name or even the things I accomplished, but it's really that my life was my own, I lived where I wanted, fought where I pleased, and when it was my time?-" A grin overcame his malice, exposing an array of sharpened, beast-like teeth, "I took it in stride and died on my feet with no regrets, so I'll ask-"
His red eyes glimmered in mild excitement as his grin only grew, his rattail blue locks fluttering without restriction in the night sky as the moonlight above kept his luminous form from dwindling whatsoever, as though the gods themselves wished to see this child never go out. "How did you do it?"
The samurai tilted his head in confusion, not truly understanding what the man was talking about in any regard, even giving him a few seconds to continue, yet nothing happened; with a sigh, Jack spoke, his tone tethered between perplexion and annoyance, "How did I do what? Find you?...I"
*CRACK
The tip of the Servant's spear slammed into the pavement below, sending splinters of sharpened rock into the air around him as he gripped its edge, his voice coming out as a hiss, yet the cyborg seemed to ignore it, not truly caring for it, "Don't play dumb, he talked a lot about you...Jack the Ripper, the Berserker that walked, talked, and lived just like the rest of us...your class is an animal, kept on a short leash, but you somehow defied everything...your Master, the system...everything...tell me how you did it."
Raiden gave a slight nod of understanding, letting out a slow sigh as steam wafted into the air, his internal pressure rising by the second, and as a cold wind billowed overhead, he spoke against the relentless screech of nature's course, "Do you have any idea how many Servants in the last War tried to find out what makes me tick?...thinking there's some deep secret to the shit I do?...because I'll tell you-"
A laugh escaped the Liberian as he gazed up at the clouds, thinking back on a lifetime of mayhem and chaos brought about by his hands, before focusing on the Celt before him once again, his eyes beginning to burn even brighter than before, "there isn't one, I just do whatever I feel like without any concern for what other people think...the world runs on ideology, and the only one I care about is my own, my Master just happened to have a goal I could agree with."
Lancer snorted, a sneer present atop his tan features as he pulled his weapon from its embedded confines, loosely holding it in one hand as he responded with distaste, "So your loyalty was swayed with sweet nothings, such a fickle one you are."
A spark crackled off the cyborg as he shrugged, uncaring for the man's attempts to get under his skin, having heard it all before from other dead men, "No, I just trust my own judgment...and if you really wanted to go against that Master of yours, then you would have done it the second you had to take that innocent boy's life...but you didn't, your principles fell apart into blood stained dust because you're afraid..."
The child of light gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing as rage began to bubble from within his person, his fists pulled so tight a trail of blood began to trickle to the ground below, "I wouldn't expect a lowlife murderer to comprehend the difference between senseless slaughter and doing what needs to be done. That boy saw too much so I dealt with it before others found out-" he hissed, glancing off to the side at the distant property as its faint outline loomed in the shadows, "-not that it mattered, the brat somehow survived and summoned a Servant of his own."
Raiden took the information in with a hum before shoving it aside, knowing there would be time to deal with that nonthreat later; he took a slow breath, feeling his biomechanical digits twitching in anticipation, yet retained a calm composure, speaking with little more than a chuckle to his voice, "You Servants like to act all high and mighty, but you're just as bad as me, the only difference is that I don't slap labels on what I do-"
The Liberian took a step forward, then another, ignoring the growing tension on his foe's features as his boots forced the ground to shake and crack apart with each thunderous motion, "But I can't expect much from a child having a tantrum; you talk a big game about wanting to fight back and show him who's boss, but here you are, doing his dirty work, you're just a lost puppy, looking for-"
Time slowed for the cyborg as the Servant launched into action with a roar of fury, slamming a foot forward as his shoulders lurched back, his grip tightening against his prized possession's solid surface before thrusting forward, its jagged edge, coated in an array of intricate runes glowed beneath the moonlight, screeching through the night as it raced toward its target's exposed throat-
*CLANG
"Oh-"
The Celt stood there in utter perplexion, feeling his spear connect with some unseen object as his foe remained utterly unscathed, his pale hand raised as though he were holding something. A grin grew along the cyborg's face as he stared straight at his opponent, his eyes reflecting a deep madness long suppressed, "I didn't know we were starting."
*ZZZZT
The Servant could hardly react, only seeing a sea of crackling electricity emerge across where his blade had impacted, barely able to gasp before inhuman amounts of voltage traveled across his own weapon, coursing through his systems as he screamed, instinctively leaping back as a blackened suitcase appeared out of nothing, its camouflage deactivating as vibrant blue energy encased the cyborg, the glow forcing the Irishman to look away before it burst off him in waves.
Raiden stood firm, his systems automatically adjusting to their new parameters as they came online, his augmented combat suit not having aged a day as he heard the distinctive clicking of his exposed jaw as it settled into place. His fingers twitched, and with a mental command, it flicked open as sparks rained down from its damaged exterior, revealing his inherited blade as it slowly fell from its confines into his waiting hand, the weight remaining the warrior of why he lived for moments like this, with nothing but his blade and his beliefs to guide him forward.
The killer slowly raised his inherited sword, clenching the trigger as red lightning danced along his blackened hands like a burning sun in the night. It slowly slid from its sheathe, audibly grinding against solid steel until it cut through the night sky, its containers thrown to the wayside as the warrior dragged a finger along its surface, studying his reflection for a brief moment before gently twirling the crackling device in a lazy spin, with it coming to a rest in his palm as he pointed it directly at his target's heart, "Speaking of your Master...how is Kirei doing these days?"
Lancer's eyes widened just a bit, his mouth slightly agape; whether it was from the electricity coursing through his body mere seconds ago, or the shock of the killer knowing his Master's identity, Raiden couldn't say. With an angry growl, the man dipped the point of his spear downward, its counterpart facing behind the man as it drifted past his side, barking as he did so, "How do you-"
A blackened smog began to erupt along the cyborg's form, encasing him within its shrouded confines once more; this is what Raiden truly was; whether he was an official Servant or not, no other class would ever truly suit the maddened killer, his new identity clung to him regardless of time or place. He chuckled, his metallic jaw opening and closing unnaturally, "Because this is the kind of cowardly bullshit that priest would pull, he did the exact same in our War, make a Servant do all the dirty work while he hides off in some hole like the little worm he is, and I'll tell you why-"
Murasama began to vibrate within the warrior's grasp, his grin only growing as he thought back to that conflict, tearing through historical legends across time, "He's controlling, the sort of person that thinks he's the smartest person in the room, but you know what?" Raiden raised a finger, pointing it directly at the Celt as the man slightly tensed, "You're the third Servant he's sent to do the same thing, but unlike what's going to happen to you, at least Assassin died a free man."
The spearman began to chuckle before breaking out into thunderous laughter, his head facing the ground for a brief second before flashing upward, his blue locks flowing with the motion as his smirk returned, "You think killing an Assassin is something to boast about? The class that can't put up a fight without the cloak and dagger act?" His spear rotated with his arms as they lowered into place, its sharpened edge facing its target, "I think Cú Chulainn will prove otherwise."
Two figures stood off, both marred by a life pursuing freedom, to exist on their own terms, and where one, a blue-coated warrior felt assured in his own fate, his counterpart, adorned in a suit of darkened armor, could not find rest, though both would claim to have found the same thing.
A red mist began to escape the cyborg, intermingling with the darkened smog surrounding him as his stance lowered, his right leg drifting back as both hands gripped his inherited blade tight, with each motion burning red afterimages into the atmosphere itself; he darkly chuckled as his visor began to clamp shut, "Gilgamesh thought the same thing, but by all means, let's dance!"
...
And there you have it; Jack is back!
Now, I'm not usually one for cliffhangers, but some people have said my chapters tend to run on a bit longer, so I decided to dial it back a bit; not only that, but if I wanted to give Lancer the treatment he deserves, the man needs more screen time.
Cu is one of my favorite characters from Blade Works and the other storylines as well, so I'm planning for his segment to be interesting, but for his fans, don't worry too much about it; I'm planning for the boy to be a main/major character in Faded Dawn so at least his spirit lives on.
I know people won't like me juggling between two stories, but honestly, it's been a lot of fun working on both and having a different narrative to keep me refreshed. Hopefully, people can deal with the time gap between chapters while I attempt to build a completely different Blade Works out of the story we've created so far.
As always, I hope you all have a nice day, and I'll see you in the next chapter; cheers.
