Unknown – Unknown – Somewhere in the past
In the desolate streets of a war-torn city, Kiritsugu Emiya raced like a man possessed. His once-immaculate attire was now tattered and stained with grime, the weight of his mission bearing down upon him with each frantic step. Dust kicked up in his wake as he darted through narrow alleyways and dodged around debris. Bullets whizzed past him.
Sweat dripped down his face. His senses were heightened, every nerve on edge as he navigated the labyrinthine maze of streets, seeking refuge from his pursuers. The danger was closing in like a tightening noose around his neck.
Kiritsugu was no stranger to adversity; he had faced death countless times before, emerging battered but unbroken. With grim determination, Kiritsugu pressed on. His resolve was unyielding even in the face of insurmountable odds. For he knew that failure was not an option.
A searing pain lanced through his side, the shock of impact sending him staggering to his knees. He clutched at the wound, blood welling between his fingers. Gritting his teeth against the agony, Kiritsugu forced himself to his feet.
Being driven by a singular purpose: to ensure that the precious cargo he carried reached its destination, no matter the cost. As Kiritsugu darted around a corner, his heart thundered in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins like liquid fire.
Behind him, the sound of boots pounding against the rubble-filled streets. With every passing moment, the distance between them narrowed.
But as his pursuers rounded the same corner, their expressions twisted. They were met with only empty air. Kiritsugu had vanished, leaving behind nothing but the echo of his fading footsteps.
The landscape around Kiritsugu grew fuzzy and blurry as he stumbled forward, his strength failing with each faltering step. He fell to the ground, his knees giving way beneath him.
The force of the drop startled him, sending a shockwave through his bruised body as he fought to stay conscious. His side was covered in several wounds that oozed blood.
With trembling hands, Kiritsugu pressed a piece of his shirt against the searing pain, as he fought to staunch the flow of blood. The darkness of unconsciousness loomed ever. Kiritsugu's vision blurred and darkened. In his fading awareness, the world seemed to recede into shadow, the distant echoes of his pursuers' voices fading into nothingness.
A solitary figure emerged as a blur of motion against the backdrop of the desolate streets. Through the haze of pain and fatigue, Kiritsugu could make out only the outline of a tanned boy, his features obscured by the shifting shadows.
As his fingers brushed against the rough fabric of the boy's clothing, consciousness slipped from his grasp.
Kiritsugu gradually regained consciousness while the world was slowly swimming back into focus. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he found himself in a dimly lit chamber, the walls bearing the scars of past battles yet emanating a strange sense of security.
Rubbing his eyes, Kiritsugu pushed himself into a sitting position, taking stock of his surroundings. The room was sparse but welcoming, adorned with makeshift furnishings and the telltale signs of habitation amidst the debris.
As his gaze swept over the room, it landed on the figure of a tanned boy with white hair, watching him from across the chamber with a mixture of emotions. The air was heavy with the scent of dust.
Kiritsugu struggled to sit up, his muscles protesting the movement after the ordeal he had endured.
"Easy now," the boy said, his voice warm and yet distant. "You took quite a few hits back there. But don't worry, you're safe now."
Blinking away the remnants of his disorientation, Kiritsugu pushed himself into a sitting position, taking stock of his surroundings. Kiritsugu's voice cut through the stillness of the makeshift refuge. "You... know how to speak English?"
The boy's expression shifted, a flicker of amusement dancing on his features. He nodded in response. "Yeah, a little. Enough to get by, at least."
Kiritsugu's gaze drifted downward, drawn to the bandages encircling his wounds. He noted with a detached sense of observation that they had been skillfully tended to, the fabric neatly bound around the injured areas, providing a barrier against infection and further harm. His fingers brushed lightly over the makeshift dressings, tracing the edges with a mixture of curiosity and appreciation.
For a fleeting moment, Kiritsugu felt a pang of gratitude stir within him, a rare acknowledgment of the kindness extended to him by a stranger in a time of need. It was a reminder that even in the bleakest of circumstances, there were still those who dared to offer aid, to extend a helping hand to those in peril.
With a quiet exhale, Kiritsugu leaned back against the makeshift bedding. His gaze shifted from his wounds to the tanned boy sitting nearby. "Are you the one who fixed me up?"
The boy met Kiritsugu's gaze with an unwavering stare, his expression calm and composed despite the chaos that surrounded them. After a moment of silent contemplation, the boy nodded slowly, his white hair catching the faint light filtering through the cracks in the dilapidated walls. "Yes," he replied simply, his voice soft yet resolute. "I did what I could to help."
"Thank you." In a world torn apart by conflict and strife, it was a rare gift to encounter such selflessness and generosity.
Emiya's expression softened, "It was nothing." Kiritsugu nodded, "Still, I need to get back. There's... something I have to do."
The tanned boy, tilted his head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Leaving so soon?" he remarked, "I was just starting to enjoy your company."
Despite the gravity of their situation, the boy exuded an air of confidence and nonchalance, as if he were unfazed by the dangers lurking outside their makeshift sanctuary. His demeanor was a stark contrast to Kiritsugu's tense resolve.
"I can't afford to stay," he replied tersely, his gaze flickering towards the shattered remnants of the world beyond their refuge. "I have to keep moving."
The boy observed Kiritsugu's attempt to rise from his makeshift cot, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I wouldn't be in such a hurry if I were you," he remarked casually, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.
Kiritsugu frowned slightly, his movements halted by a sudden twinge of pain radiating from his injured leg. He glanced down, noting the bandages wrapped snugly around his thigh. "What did you do?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of frustration.
Emiya shrugged nonchalantly, "Just a little something to keep you off your feet for a while," he replied cryptically, his gaze lingering on Kiritsugu's injured limb. "You took quite a beating out there. I had to make sure you didn't make things worse."
Despite the discomfort of his injuries, Kiritsugu couldn't help but admire Emiya's resourcefulness and skill. There was a quiet confidence about the boy, a self-assurance born of years spent navigating the dangers of their war-torn world.
Kiritsugu settled back onto the cot, resigned to his temporary confinement. Kiritsugu's gaze rested on the boy. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice soft but insistent.
"I don't have one," he admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of resignation. "At least, not one that matters." Kiritsugu sensed the boy's reluctance to delve into his past. And yet, there was a steely determination and silent defiance that spoke volumes of his strength and resilience.
"Where did you learn to do this?" Kiritsugu inquired, motioning to his wounds. Emiya met Kiritsugu's gaze with a hint of pride. "Let's just say I've picked up a few skills along the way."
But Kiritsugu wasn't one to be easily deterred. He pressed further, his interest piqued by the boy's cryptic response. "This isn't something you learn overnight," he remarked, his voice laced with a note of skepticism. "You must have had some training."
"I've had... experiences," he admitted, "Things that have taught me to fend for myself, to survive."
"The way you bandaged me... It's the same technique they teach in military training," Kiritsugu remarked, his tone full of curiosity.
The boy's lips quirked into a cocky smile, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You catch on quick."
The young boy´s gaze still lingered on Kiritsugu. "So, what's a Japanese man with an American accent doing in this hellhole?" he inquired, his tone casual.
Kiritsugu's lips twitched almost imperceptibly, a faint echo of amusement dancing in his eyes as he regarded the boy with a knowing look. "Let's just say I have a knack for finding trouble," he replied, offering no further explanation.
Emiya's lips curled into a sardonic smile as he glanced at Kiritsugu, his voice filled with irony. "You must have some really bad luck to end up on the wrong side of those guys," he remarked dryly, a hint of mockery underlying his words.
Kiritsugu's expression remained impassive, but a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he met the boy's gaze. "You could say that," he replied wryly, a note of resignation coloring his words.
Kiritsugu rose from the makeshift cot, his movements stiff with pain but his resolve unyielding. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with sincerity. "I have to go now, but I won't forget what you've done for me."
The boy, watched him silently, his expression unreadable. With a nod of acknowledgment, Kiritsugu stepped out of the hideout, his gaze set on the path ahead.
Kiritsugu slowly navigated the desolate streets. He knew that to reach a safe zone, he would have to traverse the entire city. Kiritsugu crouched behind a crumbling wall, his gaze scanning the destroyed streets ahead. The city was a maze of danger, with armed patrols lurking around every corner. His mind raced as he weighed his options, knowing that every step could lead him closer to safety or deeper into peril.
He calculated the risks, considering each possible route through the city and the likelihood of encountering hostile forces. As he contemplated his next move, Kiritsugu's hand instinctively reached for the firearm at his side.
Only to find empty air where it should have been. Panic surged through him as he realized he was unarmed and vulnerable. The realization sent a chill down his spine.
As Kiritsugu cautiously navigated the treacherous streets, his mind couldn't help but dwell on all the missions he had undertaken for the FBI. From them, this one was undoubtedly the most harrowing.
With every shadow that flickered in the dim light, Kiritsugu's senses were on high alert, keenly attuned to the slightest hint of danger. Each step he took was fraught with uncertainty, knowing that at any moment, he could come face to face with his pursuers.
As he pressed on, his thoughts turned to the mission that had led him into this perilous situation. It had seemed routine at first, just another assignment in a long line of covert operations. But as it unfolded, it quickly spiraled out of control, plunging Kiritsugu into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape. He knew that the stakes were higher than ever before, and failure was not an option.
Despite Kiritsugu's best efforts to move unnoticed through the city's war-torn streets, it didn't take long for the armed forces to pick up his trail once again. Every alley he ducked into, every shadow he melted into, seemed to offer only fleeting refuge before the relentless pursuit resumed.
Kiritsugu's heart pounded in his chest, the sound echoing in his ears like a drumbeat of impending doom. He knew that he was running out of time. With every step he took, his chances of evading capture grew slimmer.
As he darted down a narrow alleyway, the sounds of heavy boots clanging against the limestone echoed behind him. Kiritsugu's muscles screamed in protest as he pushed himself to run faster, to outpace his pursuers and find some semblance of safety in this chaotic situation. But try as he might, escape seemed an impossible feat. The armed forces were relentless in their pursuit.
A sudden impact sent him crashing to the ground. Before he could even react, a tattered, old beggar's outfit was thrown over him.
Confusion clouded his senses as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. Then, as he glanced up, he saw the figure who had knocked him down. The mysterious stranger was disguised in similar ragged attire. He was reaching out to help him up.
The assailants surged at them, pausing only briefly, their voices raised in frantic inquiries in their native tongue.
With a deft motion, the disguised beggar pointed in the direction of where Kiritsugu "had fled", diverting their attention away from them.
As the sound of pursuit faded into the distance, Kiritsugu found himself panting with adrenaline. With the disguised boy's help, he staggered to his feet.
The boy's grip on his arm was surprisingly firm, guiding Kiritsugu through the labyrinthine alleys and crumbling buildings of the city. Despite the chaos around them, his movements were fluid and confident, as though he knew every hidden path and secret shortcut.
The boy's voice was tinged with a hint of amusement as he glanced back at Kiritsugu, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I can't babysit you all day, old man," he remarked, his tone light but filled with seriousness.
Kiritsugu nodded, understanding the urgency of their situation. Despite his injuries, he knew he couldn't afford to slow them down. "Lead the way,"
"To where, you dumbass? You didn't tell me what you're doing here," the boy quipped, his tone brimming with sass as he shot Kiritsugu a sideways glance.
Kiritsugu's lips twitched in a faint smile at the boy's audacity, despite their dire circumstances. "I was on a mission," he replied tersely, his gaze scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger. "But it went south, as you can see."
The boy nodded, his eyes reflecting determination despite his weariness.
"There's a building in the south of the city," Kiritsugu spoke, his voice low and urgent. "I need to get there. It's crucial."
The boy raised an eyebrow, curiosity gleaming in his silver eyes. "Crucial for what?" he asked, his tone tinged with skepticism.
Kiritsugu hesitated, deliberating how much he should reveal to this enigmatic stranger. "Let's just say it's a matter of life and death," he replied cryptically. "And I don't have much time."
The boy let out a chuckle, his demeanor shifting between amusement and annoyance. "Life and death, huh? Things are complicated with you aren't they old man?" he remarked sarcastically. "But you're right. Things have a way of getting complicated real fast around here."
Kiritsugu offered a wry smile in acknowledgment. "You have no idea," he muttered under his breath.
And so it was that amidst the dust and chaos, Kiritsugu found an unexpected ally in the form of a tanned boy with white hair. A boy who would soon take on his name, Emiya.
This was Emiya's first taste of the dangerous world of espionage and intrigue, a world that would soon become all too familiar to him.
Dubai – United Arab Emirates – 7 years later
Emiya moved with practiced precision as he entered the sleek, glass-fronted high-rise building in the heart of the city. Dressed in a sleek black suit that hugged his frame, he exuded an air of quiet confidence as he navigated the busy lobby.
It was a whirlwind of activity, with people coming and going. Emiya's sharp gaze swept over the crowd, taking note of every detail as he made his way toward the bank of elevators.
Despite the chaos around him, Emiya remained unfazed, his demeanor cool and composed as he pressed the button for the elevator. The doors slid open and he stepped inside.
Emiya stepped out into the expansive foyer of the opulent apartment. His presence seemed to command attention even in the grandeur of the surroundings. The polished marble floors reflected the soft glow of the chandeliers above, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow across the vast expanse of the foyer.
Just as he was about to proceed into the expansive living room, two imposing guards intercepted him, blocking his path. One of them reached up to his earpiece, relaying a message that the man had arrived.
The guards, clad in impeccably tailored suits, regarded Emiya with a mixture of respect and wariness, their vigilant demeanor showing years of training and experience. With a subtle nod from one of them, Emiya was granted passage, a silent acknowledgment of his status as both a guest and a formidable presence in his own right.
As Emiya crossed the threshold into the opulent living room, his gaze fell upon a man with golden long hair. He was seated in an ornate armchair, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Their eyes met, each man sizing up the other.
The man´s voice cut through the tense atmosphere. "You must be..." the man began, but Emiya swiftly interjected, his tone cool and composed. "Emiya… just Emiya."
The man's brows furrowed imperceptibly, a flicker of uncertainty betraying his composed facade. "Emiya," he echoed, his voice tinged with intrigue as he extended a hand in greeting. "A pleasure to meet you." He took a small pause before continuing. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting to see you here. We had an agreement to meet in the hallway of the hotel, not here," he pointed out, his tone firm yet measured.
Emiya offered a subtle nod of acknowledgment, though his demeanor remained unchanged. "I deemed it necessary to expedite our discussion," Emiya explained, his eyes flitting briefly toward the expansive windows that framed the sprawling city below.
"Nevertheless, I am—" But before he could utter his name, Emiya interjected again with his voice calm and yet assertive. "Kirschtaria Wodime,". It certainly caught Kirschtaria off guard.
There was a brief moment of hesitation in Kirschtaria's demeanor, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Emiya with newfound intrigue. It was clear that Emiya's preemptive revelation had disrupted the carefully choreographed script he planned.
"Ah, I see you're familiar with my name," Kirschtaria remarked. He studied Emiya intently, searching for any trace of recognition in the enigmatic figure before him.
Emiya offered a subtle nod of acknowledgment, his expression remaining impassive as he met Kirschtaria's gaze. "Indeed, your reputation precedes you," he replied.
Kirschtaria inclined his head in agreement, his piercing gaze never leaving Emiya's face. "Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss."
Taking the proffered seat opposite Kirschtaria, Emiya settled into the plush upholstery, his senses attuned to every word and gesture.
"My friend at the FBI insisted that I consider you for this particular assignment."
Kirschtaria's revelation seemed to catch Emiya off guard, though his outward expression remained unchanged. "Sion Eltnam Sokaris," Emiya repeated, the name rolling off his tongue.
Kirschtaria nodded, his gaze steady as he observed Emiya's reaction. "Indeed. Your former superior spoke highly of your abilities, your discretion, and your... resourcefulness," he remarked, his words laden with subtle implications.
Emiya offered a faint nod of acknowledgment. "And what, may I ask, does Ms. Sokaris hope to achieve by recommending my services?" Emiya inquired, his voice showing none of the curiosity that churned within him.
Kirschtaria regarded him with a knowing smile, though the glint in his eyes hinted at a deeper understanding. "That is a question best left for Ms. Sokaris herself," he replied.
Emiya offered a subtle nod of acknowledgment. He leaned forward slightly, his demeanor shifting as he sought to discern Kirschtaria's intentions. "So, Mr. Wodime, what is it that you require of me?"
"I have a task that requires a particular set of skills," Kirschtaria began, choosing his words with deliberate precision. "Skills that I believe you possess in abundance."
Emiya´s interest was piqued by the veiled reference to his abilities. "Go on," he prompted.
"I need someone who can navigate the murky waters of international espionage, someone who can operate with discretion and efficiency," Kirschtaria explained. "Someone like you, Emiya."
"Someone who is not directly tied to your name."
"Exactly."
"And what, precisely, would this task entail?"
Kirschtaria leaned forward, his gaze piercing Emiya with a steady stare. "Are you familiar with Da Vinci's Code?"
Emiya furrowed his brow, his expression showing a lack of familiarity with the reference. "No, I can't say that I am."
Kirschtaria nodded as if expecting Emiya's response. "Da Vinci's Code is a highly sophisticated piece of technology," he began. "It's a chip capable of overriding the guidance systems of any missile on the planet, effectively rendering them inert and useless."
Emiya's eyes widened at Kirschtaria's revelation, the implications of such a device not lost on him. "So, you're saying it's a weapon."
Kirschtaria nodded gravely. "More than a weapon, it's a tool—a tool that could bring the age of peace to the world."
Emiya's mind raced with possibilities, his thoughts swirling with the implications of Kirschtaria's words. "And you want me to retrieve it for you."
"Precisely."
"Why should I hand over something as powerful as Da Vinci's Code to you?"
Kirschtaria met Emiya's gaze unwaveringly, his expression calm. "Because I have the resources and the means to ensure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."
Emiya's eyes narrowed slightly as he weighed Kirschtaria's words, his mind racing with possibilities. "And what guarantee do I have that you won't use it for your purposes?" he pressed, words filled with caution.
Kirschtaria's lips quirked into a faint smile, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Because I believe in the greater good," he stated simply. Emiya knew that those words carried the weight of his conviction. "And I believe that together, we can ensure that Da Vinci's Code is used for the betterment of mankind."
Emiya regarded Kirschtaria with a sense of skepticism, "And if I refuse?"
Kirschtaria's smile widened ever so slightly, a hint of challenge gleaming in his eyes. "Then I'm afraid we'll have to find someone else to retrieve it. But I sincerely hope it doesn't come to that."
Emiya paused for a moment. He glanced at the golden-haired man.
"Do you have any information on it?" Emiya asked.
Kirschtaria nodded, his gaze meeting Emiya's with a sense of understanding. "I have some leads," he admitted. "But I'll need your expertise to help track it down. Are you familiar with England?"
Kirschtaria gestured towards a man standing nearby, his presence commanding attention as he observed the room with a keen eye. "Emiya, meet Beryl Gut," Kirschtaria said, his voice carrying a hint of respect. "He's my right hand and handles security."
Emiya nodded in acknowledgment, noting the firmness in Beryl's stance and the assurance in his gaze. "Pleasure to meet you, Beryl," Emiya said, extending a hand in greeting.
Beryl clasped Emiya's hand firmly, his grip strong yet controlled. "Likewise."
With introductions made, Kirschtaria turned back to Emiya, his expression serious as he prepared to delve into the discussion. "Now, let's go over the leads we have on the Da Vinci's Code," he said, his tone commanding yet inviting. "Beryl will brief you on the details."
"The origins of the chip trace back to Italy," he started, his voice steady and measured. "It was created by a brilliant mind, someone deeply entrenched in the world of technology and science." He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing. "The creator recognized the immense power of the chip and its potential for both good and ill. To ensure it remained in responsible hands, they entrusted it to a carrier—a skilled individual capable of navigating the world without getting noticed."
Beryl's eyes narrowed slightly as he elaborated on the carrier's elusive nature. "This carrier moves discreetly, always one step ahead of surveillance and detection. They've managed to evade capture and scrutiny, leaving behind a trail of confusion and disbelief. Many believe the chip to be a myth, a legend concocted by those desperate for power."
Emiya listened intently as Beryl provided the crucial piece of information. "Last month, we intercepted a fragment of a secret message. It was a small detail, but it hinted at the presence of the chip. With further investigation, we managed to trace recent activity to Edinburgh, England."
Edinburgh—a city with its own secrets. "We have reason to believe that the carrier was in Edinburgh just last week," Beryl added, his voice firm and resolute. "They made a withdrawal from an ATM—an innocuous act, but one that could provide us with the breakthrough we need."
Emiya nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. Edinburgh was a sprawling metropolis, a labyrinth of streets and districts that could easily swallow up anyone trying to remain hidden.
Emiya turned to Beryl, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Do we have any footage from the ATM?" he inquired.
Beryl nodded. "Yes, we managed to obtain some footage," he replied, his tone matching Emiya's sense of urgency. "It's not much, but it's a start."
With practiced efficiency, Beryl retrieved a small device from his pocket and handed it to Emiya. "Here," he said, his voice low. "This contains the footage from the ATM. It's grainy, but you might be able to make out some details."
Emiya took the device, his fingers tightening around it. Every shred of information was crucial—every pixel, every shadow could lead them closer to the elusive carrier of the Da Vinci's Code. He knew that time was of the essence, and they couldn't afford to waste a single moment.
"Thank you," Emiya said, his voice firm. "I'll review the footage immediately. With any luck, we'll have a lead to follow."
Emiya processed the information. "And what about the creator?" he asked, his voice steady despite the weight of the question.
Beryl hesitated for a moment before responding, his tone grave. "Unknown identity. We've been unable to confirm his status," he admitted. "But based on our intelligence, it's highly likely that he's dead."
A heavy silence settled over the room as Emiya absorbed the news. The creator of the Da Vinci's Code—the mastermind behind the elusive chip—was most probably no longer among the living.
"I'm departing right away," Emiya announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Kirschtaria nodded in acknowledgment, a flick of his fingers summoning Caenis into the room. She entered with a confident stride, her white hair contrasting sharply with her tanned complexion. Emiya spared her a glance before turning back to Kirschtaria.
"I'll need all the available intel on Edinburgh and the surrounding areas," Emiya said, his voice firm. "And make sure our extraction plan is ready to go. We can't afford any delays."
"Yes, of course. Before you depart Emiya, meet Caenis," Kirschtaria gestured towards her. "She'll be your bridge to me on this mission."
Emiya nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze briefly flickering over her before returning to Kirschtaria. "If I need anything, I'll contact her," he affirmed, his tone resolute.
With those final words hanging in the air, Emiya turned on his heel and exited the apartment, his mind already focused on the task ahead.
After Emiya had left, Kirschtaria turned to Caenis with a contemplative expression. "What do you think of him?"
Caenis crossed her arms, her gaze thoughtful. "He seems capable," she remarked, her tone measured. "But there's something... elusive about him."
Kirschtaria nodded, acknowledging her observation. "Yes, I sensed that too. But I believe that's precisely what makes him valuable. He's skilled, yet he keeps his cards close to his chest. It's an intriguing combination."
Caenis nodded in agreement, her eyes following the direction Emiya had taken. "Well, whatever secrets he harbors, I trust he'll prove himself worthy of this mission."
Kirschtaria offered a small smile. "I do not doubt that."
Edinburgh – England – a few hours later
As Emiya passed through the airport customs, the attendant glanced up from his paperwork and offered a polite smile. "Have a nice day."
Emiya nodded in acknowledgment, his expression remaining neutral. "Thank you."
Emiya sat in the dimly lit hotel room, his laptop open before him. The soft glow of the screen illuminated his determined expression as he scrutinized the grainy footage of the ATM security camera.
With precision, he began to enhance the image, adjusting the contrast and sharpness to bring out any hidden details.
Lines of code scrolled across the screen as sophisticated software algorithms worked their magic, slowly refining the blurry frames into clearer images.
Emiya leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing in concentration. He carefully examined the figure in the video, noting every detail of their appearance and demeanor. The person's clothing, posture, and movements all provided valuable clues that Emiya cataloged in his mind.
Faint lines appeared on his forehead as he furrowed his brows, deep in thought. He replayed the footage multiple times, analyzing each frame with meticulous attention. Every subtle gesture, every fleeting expression could hold the key to identifying the mysterious individual.
Emiya leaned back in his chair, his mind racing with deductions drawn from the enhanced video footage. He observed the figure's silhouette and subtle movements, noting the slight sway of their hips and the delicate curve of their shoulders. These were telltale signs that the person was likely a woman.
Next, he turned his attention to estimating the individual's height, analyzing their proportions in relation to the ATM and surrounding environment. Based on the scale and perspective of the video, Emiya calculated that the person stood at approximately 160 centimeters tall, a detail that would narrow down his search considerably.
But perhaps the most crucial deduction came from the timing of the withdrawal. The fact that the person chose to access the ATM late at night suggested a sense of urgency or desperation. Emiya reasoned that they were likely being pursued or threatened, seeking to evade capture by conducting their transaction under the cover of darkness when the streets were deserted and surveillance was minimal.
Emiya stepped out of his hotel, the crisp morning air brushing against his skin as he made his way to the location of the ATM. Upon arriving at the spot, he surveyed the surroundings, his keen eyes scanning the area for any additional security cameras that might have captured footage of the mysterious woman.
Spotting a nearby convenience store, Emiya approached cautiously, his senses attuned to any signs of surveillance equipment. As he reached the entrance, he spotted a small camera mounted above the doorway, its lens pointed toward the street where the ATM was located.
Emiya entered the store, his gaze shifting to the counter where a bored-looking cashier stood. Casually engaging the cashier in conversation, he subtly inquired about the store's security measures, feigning curiosity about the prevalence of CCTV cameras in the area.
The cashier confirmed that the store indeed had surveillance cameras installed, including one positioned to capture footage of the street outside. Seizing the opportunity, Emiya requested access to the footage from the previous night, explaining that he was assisting law enforcement with an investigation.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries and a small bribe discreetly slipped into the cashier's hand, Emiya watched intently as the footage played on the monitor behind the counter. His heart quickened as he caught a glimpse of the mysterious woman, her figure illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights as she made her way to the ATM.
Despite the low resolution of the footage, Emiya's trained eyes picked up on subtle details. Her posture was confident, her movements deliberate. Emiya noted the way the unknown woman scanned her surroundings with a cautious glance, as if aware of potential threats lurking in the shadows. He could sense the urgency in her actions.
Her features were delicate yet alluring. Chestnut brown hair was cascading in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face adorned with striking sapphire blue eyes. Emiya would describe her only as an ethereal beauty.
Stepping out of the convenience store, the chime of the bell announced his departure. He offered a nod of gratitude to the clerk behind the counter before his attention shifted to his phone.
He dialed a number, his thumb moving deftly over the screen as he brought the device to his ear. As the call connected, he listened intently, his gaze sweeping the street for any sign of the woman he had just seen on the surveillance footage.
"Female, early to mid-twenties, approximately 160 centimeters in height," he began, his voice steady and precise. "Brown hair, blue eyes. Last seen in Edinburgh, and likely a foreigner. Look for someone who might be on vacation or traveling through the city."
"Focus on recent arrivals or individuals who might fit the profile. I need to find her before she slips away again. Send me names and addresses."
Emiya stepped into his hotel room, the door clicking shut behind him. He retrieved his gun from its concealed holster. Sitting at the small table near the window, he laid out his tools with meticulous care.
With unwavering focus, he began the familiar ritual of cleaning his weapon.
Emiya's weapon of choice was a sleek and formidable CZ Shadow 2, its matte black finish reflecting the dim light of the hotel room. Compact yet powerful, the semi-automatic pistol boasted a polymer frame and steel slide, combining durability with lightweight maneuverability.
Its grip, textured for maximum control, fit snugly in Emiya's hand, the grooves offering a reassuring hold even in the tensest of situations. The crisp trigger pull and smooth action ensured precise shots with each squeeze.
Emiya's phone buzzed with a new message, the screen displayed a string of encrypted text. With practiced ease, Emiya decrypted the message, revealing a list of addresses and names. Each entry was a potential lead in his pursuit of the mysterious woman.
After finishing cleaning his weapon, Emiya started analyzing the information before him.
Setting his laptop on the table. With a focused gaze, Emiya navigated through various online platforms, searching for any information that might bring him closer to the woman he was trying to find.
He scrolled through social media profiles, bookstore profiles, and more, slowly shrinking his list of possible carriers. At the end of his research, only two names remained. Mentally mapping out his next moves, he prepared to leave.
Slipping the weapon into its concealed holster, Emiya retrieved his jacket. With the addresses written on a piece of paper, he left his hotel room behind, stepping out into the streets of Edinburgh.
Emiya approached the gleaming marble reception desk of the luxurious 5-star hotel, his demeanor calm and composed despite the urgency of his mission. The polished floors reflected the soft glow of the chandeliers above, lending an air of opulence to the surroundings.
"Excuse me," he addressed the impeccably dressed receptionist, his voice measured and polite. "I have an appointment with a woman named Mana Estsmart. Could you tell me which room is hers?"
The receptionist, a poised and professional individual, glanced down at her computer screen, her fingers dancing across the keyboard with precision. After a moment of typing, she looked up at Emiya with a polite smile.
"I'm sorry, sir," she replied in a melodic tone. "We do have a guest by that name registered with us. But I can´t give her hotel room number to you. Shall I inform her of your presence?"
Emiya hesitated for a brief moment, weighing his options carefully. With a decisive nod, he replied, "Yes, please. Let her know that I'd like to speak with her at her earliest convenience."
The receptionist nodded in acknowledgment. Emiya observed as the receptionist dialed the room number assigned to Mana. However, his hopes were dashed when the receptionist shook her head slightly, a disappointed expression flitting across her features.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said apologetically, "but there doesn't seem to be any answer from the room. Would you like to wait in the lobby in case she returns?"
Emiya weighed his options for a moment before responding.
"No, that won't be necessary. I'll come back later," Emiya shook his head, declining the receptionist's offer.
The receptionist nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "Of course, sir. If you need any assistance, please don't hesitate to let us know."
"Thank you," Emiya acknowledged with a nod, offering a faint but appreciative smile before turning and leaving the lobby.
As Emiya strode away from the hotel, the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place. The mysterious woman, Mana, could very well be the elusive carrier he had been tracking. Pausing at a street corner, Emiya leaned against a lamppost, his gaze fixed on the imposing facade of the hotel. The opulent surroundings and tight security only added credence to his theory.
The presence of numerous bodyguards outside the hotel sparked his suspicion. It wasn't uncommon for high-profile individuals, particularly those in politics, to employ such extensive security measures. It provided the carrier with much-needed camouflage and protection. No one would be stupid enough to try to jump someone in a hotel full of security officers, bodyguards, and who knows which secret agencies.
Emiya made a mental note to delve deeper into Mana's background and connections.
Emiya's steps echoed softly as he approached the modest motel, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet a stark contrast to the polished marble of the luxury hotel he had just left behind. The flickering neon sign overhead cast a dim glow over the parking lot, adding to the air of anonymity that surrounded the establishment.
With nonchalance, Emiya plucked an empty pizza box from a nearby dumpster. Approaching the front desk, he adopted a casual demeanor, his keen eyes scanning the area for any signs of surveillance.
"Excuse me," he addressed the attendant behind the desk, his tone casual yet purposeful. "I'm looking for someone who may be staying here. They didn't specify a room number, but their name is Emily Winchley."
The attendant, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, glanced up from his paperwork, his expression one of mild curiosity. "Emily, huh? Let me check the registry."
As the attendant rifled through the guest log, Emiya maintained his facade of indifference.
After a moment of searching, the attendant shook his head. "Room 26, up the stairs, and third room at the left. "Thanks," Emiya replied leaving the reception area.
Emiya stood before the door to the room. Rapping his knuckles against the door, the sound echoed softly in the dimly lit room. After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a figure silhouetted against the muted glow of the room beyond. Emiya straightened, adopting the guise of a nondescript delivery boy as he held up the empty pizza box.
"Delivery, I brought you your pizza," he announced, his voice casual yet confident. The woman who stood before him narrowed her eyes. "I didn't order any pizza," she replied.
Emiya maintained his facade, offering a congenial smile as he shrugged his shoulders. "Really? That is weird, someone ordered a large pepperoni to this address to room 36." Emiya's smile remained affable, his demeanor calm and collected as he persisted with his charade.
"But this is room 26." The woman replied.
Emiya blinked, his expression momentarily faltering as he processed the discrepancy. "My apologies, ma'am. It seems I may have made a mistake," he admitted smoothly, "I must have misread the room number."
The woman regarded him with an annoyed glance. "Well, you should double-check next time before bothering people," she remarked, her demeanor guarded.
Emiya offered a contrite nod, a faint apologetic smile gracing his features. " I apologize for the inconvenience. I'll make sure to be more careful in the future," he assured her, his tone earnest. "Thank you for your understanding."
With a final nod of acknowledgment, Emiya left. After subtly scanning his surroundings, he approached the nearest trash bin. Ensuring that no prying eyes were watching him, he deposited the pizza box into the trash bin before leaving the motel.
The woman he encountered was not the elusive figure he sought. That meant Mana was the carrier.
Emiya stood in the shadow of the alley, his form cloaked by the darkness of the night. His gaze fixated on the imposing structure of the hotel before him, its facade illuminated by the glow of streetlights.
As he started to slowly approach the back entrance of the hotel, the door clicked open. Emiya slipped back into his hiding spot. A sudden movement caught his eye. From within the depths of the building, a group of men clad in black suits emerged, their imposing figures illuminated by the dim glow of the corridor lights. Each one bore the unmistakable bulge of a concealed weapon beneath their tailored jackets.
Emiya's gaze narrowed as he observed the armed men, his mind swiftly assessing the situation. He recognized the potential threat they posed. As the men in black suits filed past, Emiya's keen eyes scrutinized their attire with a discerning gaze. Unlike typical security personnel or bodyguards, their sleek and form-fitting body armor bore no recognizable logos or markings. Each piece seemed custom-made, crafted from high-quality materials that hinted at private forces.
Emiya's lips formed a thin line as he observed the telltale signs of professional training evident in their coordinated movements and vigilant demeanor. These were not ordinary hired hands; they were skilled operatives, likely affiliated with a well-funded organization.
Emiya's eyes narrowed once again as he noticed one of the men carrying a large trash bag over his shoulder. The bag had an unnatural shape, its dimensions suggesting it contained something far more substantial than mere litter. Could it be...?
As the men in black departed, Emiya remained hidden, his gaze fixed on the discarded trash bag they had casually tossed inside a garbage container.
After they left, Emiya reached out and gingerly lifted the lid of the nearby container. The acrid scent of waste assaulted his senses as he peered inside, his eyes scanning the contents for the ominous bag.
There, nestled among the detritus of discarded items, lay the telltale sack, its bulk unmistakable even amidst the refuse. Emiya's pulse quickened as he reached out and opened the bag.
As the bag parted, revealing its macabre contents, his worst suspicions were confirmed. There, crumpled within the confines of the plastic, lay the lifeless form of the woman he had been seeking—Mana, the potential carrier of the elusive Da Vinci's Code.
Emiya's stomach churned as he took in the gruesome sight before him, his mind reeling with the implications of her grisly demise. It was clear that whoever had sought the chip had stopped at nothing to obtain it, resorting to unspeakable brutality in their pursuit.
Emiya reached out to check for any sign of life, his fingers searching for a pulse.
He was feeling a faint pulse beneath his fingertips. His mind struggled to comprehend the possibility, but there it was—a feeble, yet unmistakable sign of life.
With a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, Emiya sprang into action, his training kicking in as he assessed Mana's condition with a newfound sense of urgency. Despite her grievous wounds, there was a glimmer of hope.
With careful yet urgent movements, Emiya reached into the trash container, his hands gripping the edge as he hoisted himself up.
With careful hands, Emiya gently lowered Mana to the ground, his keen eyes scanning her form for any signs of life-threatening injuries. Despite the grim circumstances, he felt a surge of relief as he noted the rise and fall of her chest, a testament to her continued survival.
Kneeling beside her, Emiya began his assessment, his fingers deftly probing the various cuts and bruises that marred her skin. Each tender touch revealed a new injury, evidence of the violence she had endured.
Though none of the wounds appeared immediately fatal, Emiya knew that Mana would require medical attention to ensure her recovery. With practiced efficiency, he tore strips of cloth from his shirt, fashioning makeshift bandages to staunch the flow of blood from her more severe injuries.
His instincts told him that getting Mana to a hospital was the best course of action, but he knew that doing so would risk exposing her—and by extension, himself—to the very danger they were trying to evade. The attackers could still be lurking nearby, waiting for an opportunity to strike again.
With a sigh, Emiya realized that he couldn't afford to take any chances. He needed to get Mana to safety, and fast. But how?
Glancing around, his eyes settled on the nearby alleyway, its shadows offering a measure of concealment from prying eyes. It wasn't an ideal solution, but it was the best option available to him at the moment.
Determined, Emiya carefully lifted Mana into his arms, cradling her gently against his chest. She stirred slightly at the movement but remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and uneven.
Emiya carefully draped his jacket over Mana's limp form, concealing her injuries from prying eyes.
Despite his efforts, Emiya couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him with each step. Every passing moment brought with it the risk of discovery, and he knew that he couldn't afford to let his guard down for even a second.
As he reached the entrance, Emiya offered a curt nod to the receptionist. He navigated the bustling lobby of the hotel finally reaching the elevator.
Wasting no time he swiftly made his way through the corridors of his apartment building, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floors. He reached his room in record time, the key sliding effortlessly into the lock as he pushed open the door.
Emiya gently laid Mana down on his bed, ensuring that she was as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. He spared her a brief, contemplative glance. But there was no time for hesitation or second-guessing. Emiya turned on his heel and headed back out into the night.
Emiya's footsteps echoed through the dimly lit streets as he hurried towards the rundown medical center he had stumbled upon during his earlier reconnaissance.
Arriving at the weathered building, Emiya wasted no time as he pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside. The interior was old, the faint scent of antiseptic hanging in the air as he made his way towards the reception desk.
A tired-looking doctor glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Emiya's urgent expression. Without a word, Emiya reached into his pocket and withdrew a wad of cash, sliding it across the counter towards him.
"I need your help," he said, his voice low but urgent. "No questions asked."
Dr. Romani Archaman stood in front of a dimly lit front desk. It was well past midnight, and he had been on the verge of wrapping up for the night when the mysterious man had burst into the medical center, desperation evident in his eyes.
Romani was known for his kindness and compassion, traits that had led him to dedicate his life to helping those in need, regardless of their circumstances. He glanced down at the money on the table. He just couldn't help but feel conflicted.
While the cash could certainly help to keep the medical center running and provide much-needed supplies. He had a feeling that there was more to the stranger than met the eye.
But in the end, Romani's innate sense of empathy won out. With a sigh, he set the money down on the nearby table, his expression thoughtful as he considered how best to proceed. Money was one thing, but the well-being of his patients always came first.
Romani quickly gathered the necessary medical supplies, his movements efficient and practiced. Emiya stood nearby, watching with a mixture of relief and anticipation as the doctor prepared to accompany him.
"Lead the way," Romani said, his tone calm but determined as he finished packing up the supplies. "Time is of the essence."
Emiya nodded in acknowledgment, gratitude evident in his expression as he replied, "Thank you, doctor. I appreciate your help."
Without wasting another moment, the two of them set off, moving swiftly through the deserted streets toward the hotel where Mana lay injured. Emiya's heart pounded with each step, his mind racing with thoughts of the woman he was determined to save.
Emiya led the way through the hotel lobby, his senses on high alert as they passed the front desk. The receptionist's bewildered expression didn't escape his notice, but he paid it little heed, focused solely on reaching his room where Mana awaited their help.
With Romani following closely behind, Emiya swiftly unlocked the door to his room and ushered the doctor inside. Dr. Romani wasted no time in setting down his medical supplies, his trained eyes quickly assessing the extent of Mana's injuries. Without a word, he began to work, his movements precise and methodical as he tended to her wounds with practiced skill.
As Romani worked, Emiya hovered nearby, his gaze fixed on Mana's pale face. He felt a surge of gratitude towards the doctor for his assistance, knowing that without Romani's expertise, Mana's chances of recovery would be greatly diminished.
With Mana now under the care of Dr. Romani, Emiya took a moment to assess the situation. Satisfied that she was in capable hands, he turned his attention to securing the room.
Quietly closing the door behind them, Emiya moved swiftly to lock it, ensuring that no unwanted visitors would disturb their efforts to help Mana. Taking hold of one of the chairs, he used it to barricade the door. Even if they opened the door, they would still be unable to open it easily.
As the tension of the moment began to ease, Emiya turned to Dr. Romani, his expression a mixture of concern and anticipation. "How is she?" he asked, his voice low but urgent.
Romani glanced over at Mana, who lay on the bed, her breathing steady but shallow. "She's stable for now," Romani replied, his tone measured but tinged with worry. "But she's going to need proper medical attention. The injuries aren't life-threatening, but they're severe enough that she'll need special treatment for full recovery."
Emiya nodded, absorbing the doctor's assessment. "Are you able to perform it?" Emiya asked, his voice determined.
"I´m afraid not, we will need to get her to a hospital," Romani replied, his expression grave. "But we'll have to be careful. If whoever did this to her finds out she's still alive..."
"How did you know it wasn't me who did this to her?"
Romani met Emiya's gaze with a steady look, his expression grave but understanding. "Assailants don't usually bring their victims to a doctor," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "Especially not in the middle of the night, and especially not when they're injured as badly as she is."
Emiya nodded slowly, absorbing Romani's words.
Emiya watched as Romani continued to tend to Mana. "You're an interesting kind of doctor," Emiya remarked, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.
Romani looked up from his examination, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "And you're an interesting patient," he replied, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.
Emiya chuckled softly, a wry grin crossing his features. "Touché," he conceded, realizing the irony of their situation. In a world filled with danger and uncertainty, it was perhaps only fitting that their paths had crossed in such a peculiar way.
