II.
"Go, Master!" Rider called out from the confused combat, "The other Master! Defeat her now! Before she gets the civilian!"
Rider tumbled, intertwined with Berserker for several seconds after having just stopped them from attacking his Master. Every attempt he made to draw his sword was met with his opponent slapping it back into the sheath, and Rider was forced into exchanging unarmed blows before the two finally separated.
The two Servants stood apart for a moment, taking measure of one another. Rider hurt severely in all the places Berserker had managed to land a hit which, due to their increasingly apparent capability at fisticuffs, were quite numerous. He slowly placed his pistol back in its holster, closely watching his opponent's movements as he did. The whole time Berserker was watching him with a strange mixture or cordiality and aggression, as if at odds with themselves on how they wanted to behave. Though the disjointed Servant patiently watched Rider straighten himself out and put away his ranged weapon, the moment he reached for his sword they resumed the attack.
Rider was sure that even despite a Servant's capabilities of incredible movement, he had enough time to draw his blade before Berserker could interfere, but the moment his hand went to the hilt they were before him, their fist closing in on his face. Rider was forced to abandon drawing his blade, bringing both his hands up to block the attack. The unbridled force of Berserker's strength sent the cavalier exploding backwards into the wall behind him, the concrete of the street and building alike fracturing around the powerful attack.
Berserker charged forward for a follow-up attack, but had missed that when Rider brought his hands up to guard he had brought his pistols up with them. A report rang out from both barrels, the ball of one digging itself into Berserker's chest while the other ricocheted harmlessly off the metal mask. The one shot landing was enough to buy Rider time, however, and he delivered a powerful blow with the backside of both guns into the sides of Berserker's face, the ringing of the blows reverberating through the iron covering sent them spiraling past the other Servant, and they collided with the wall in their own turn.
Rider was not going to miss his opportunity and finally, without interruption, drew his favored weapon, the blade confidently poised in his hand, its tip threateningly aimed at his opponent. His opponent who was no longer where he left them.
Berserker came crashing down out of the sky from above, both hands locked together in a crushing attack. Rider had mostly cleared the landing sight, but was not quite quick enough, and the crippling blow, like an earthbound meteor, slammed with full force into his leg. The pain was immediate and intense, and Rider was brought fully to the ground by it. Berserker pressed the offensive, but Rider had blade in hand now, and crippled or not, had a defensive advantage. Each blow from Berserker's unarmed attacks was easily warded off by the threatening reach of Rider's sword, and several deep, bleeding gashes were carved into the attacking Servant's hands.
Out of frustration, or sensing that they really did hold the advantage despite the weapon, Berserker brought their hands together once more for a crushing blow. As they raised their joined hands over their head to bring the fatal attack down, Rider drove his sword forward, hoping to end them before that happened. The timing of both parties seemed off, as the joined fists came down, and the blade drove itself through the interlocking hands, piercing several fingers and slicing through both palms as it came out the other side. Rider's weapon was wedged violently into Berserker's hands and wouldn't come out.
Berserker used the moment to wrench the sword from Rider's grip. They raised the bleeding mass of flesh and steel up once more and brought it down in an identical fashion to before. Rider, despite his broken leg, rolled away from the attack. The force of the blow striking so close sent him tumbling away, a small broken crater now sat where he had only moments before been.
Rider pulled himself up into a sitting position, drew his pistols, and took aim at his opponent. Berserker, with a sickly wet snap, wrenched their mutilated hands free of the sword, and tossed the weapon aside. They had resolved that, even if their hands were too damaged, they still had feet to stomp the other Servant with.