Nenet rounded about at that question. Well, information gathering was still very much in the early stages, but it didn't hurt to share the most prevalent bit- a fight occurring where anybody could see it, how considerate of them.

"We've got quite the roster here. Two brutes are already throwing blows at one another, and are being very impressive about it. You'd probably have a shot of just about matching them, but it would take using that Oni blood of yours to the fullest and your passive Noble Phantasm." In other words, the first two Servants of this war who had entered a brawl were already demonstrating a level of combat strength that met or even exceeded a Saber-class Servant. She tapped her chin, eyes sparkling in spite of the nature of what she was saying. How fun. "Neither of them seem to have revealed any trump cards yet, either- they aren't even fighting with their weapons, so unless their Noble Phantasms are trash, we'd be at a disadvantage. I doubt heroes with this level of power would have subpar trump cards, anyway. Very nice, this much data this early's definitely a blessing."

Inhale. Exhale. Newly-gathered data was added to the ongoing simulation. A monstrous number of unknowns stood before her, but piece by piece, the gaps were being filled in. Leave no stone unturned, scour every corner of the city and develop a model without error. Regardless of where Saber positioned herself, she seemed off in her own little world. "Oh, I just noticed something interesting with regards to how you all operate vis-a-vis my magecraft." An explanation for her Servant's question came a few moments later- rather than annoyed, she seemed excited. A challenge was something she'd been lacking since he had left. "I haven't seen something like this in a while, but I don't want to make you listen to a lecture on Atlas esoterica."

A laugh left her at that, as though she had just said something profoundly entertaining. "Hummingbird? Alright, that'll be our little envoy, then! Let's see if it makes us any friends. Just a moment-"

That split in the world opened once again, the woman's body revealing a void leading to nowhere, and a small shadow streaked forwards. Its form flitted into her hands, cupped together as if worried that it would spill out if she did not.

[Imitate]

[Veil]

[Pretend]

The foundation was already prepared, of course. The only true modification needed was changing the base form of its container. It was important that Saber had some say in the creative decisions of the team, after all.

And so she sent it on its way.

@KatKook

---

Which building had it originated from? That could not be made certain, as there was no record of it doing so. It blended into the world, until it chose to appear, a passive existence that refused to be analyzed. Observation of it was hazy- looking directly at it, it seemed to be a European woman, perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties.

Magical senses said nothing of her, they gave off no readings and bore no indications. She was, for all intents and purposes, a simple human woman. It was entertaining, then, that unbeknownst to her, the two beings who she was approaching were the two beings of this war who could view her for what she was. One of the Church, who had seen a being of a similar concept before. One who possessed magecraft of the Age of Gods, whose eyes would not be deceived by such a mystery.

Moving past the throng of people who did not acknowledge the pair, water moving around a stone, she moved towards them. If an effort was made to strike her down, she would of course be powerless, but that was simply how things were.

"Good evening, dears. Would you care for a chat? My friend couldn't help but notice you erasing a couple of my siblings, and would like to have a conversation, if you'd be open to it." A gesture in the direction that the two Servants who had just departed had burst off towards, no longer directly visible from here. "We do not all need to talk with our fists, necessarily."

"...oh my, you're bleeding, I hadn't noticed. Here, have some candy."

As she spoke, she ruffled around in a handbag that had not been there a moment earlier, retrieving two peppermints, and holding them out towards the pair.

@Aoko Aozaki
@Red Alice

---

“That master.. That man. He has seen death, that much his eyes tell me. Yet he has chosen to come here, to this war.”

Ahmicqui relayed over his mental bond to Archer. There was much that he learned from just looking at the man, but too much of it were just hunches, speculation and instinct. The only thing as a warrior of the battlefield could be certain of was to know when standing before someone who had stared death in the eyes and knew it to be death. Perhaps there was some promise in this war, perhaps he had been right to participate.

Watching the fight between two legends unfolds was truly a sight to behold. It made him think back of those final days, before -that- had revealed itself. When it seemed like god waged war against men, such was what it felt like to stare at those two servants just exchanging what came down to practice and measurement. Testing the limits of another in countless ways that they likely were not aware of, simply verifying it on an instinctual level.

It took a moment too long to register that the two were leaving. He had considered to perhaps lend a hand, but he simply had been in awe, captivated by beauty and now it had vanished as quickly as the life of a butterfly. A soft breath rolled from his lips, taking a moment to collect himself before the ageless creature turned his gaze to the master that had been left behind. Raising a hand to lift the bridge of his sunglasses, sickly amber eyes peering from beneath it at the man.

“You are aware.. Painfully aware of me. Some would feel such tense caution is weakness. But I disagree..”

Ahmicqui said in a friendly tone, raising his sunglasses from his face and instead neatly folding them up before planting them in the front pocket of his shirt. Taking a few steps closer to Kitorai at a leisurely pace to be in a more conservational distance. “You see it, don’t you.. All possibilities, every move that can be made.. And every move you must make it. I want to see it, that chessboard in your mind.”

The bronze-skinned master stretched an arm out, offering his hand.

“I’ll bring you to -them-. It will be a lot faster. My toll is but a trifle, just a -single- question.”

@Kala

Kitorai Valueleta

The crowd started to scatter, devoid of their entertainment, going back to their ordinary life but unbeknownst to them, in the middle of Las Vegas, two masters met face to face for the first time.

If Kitorai instincts were flaring up before, once the man in front of him raised his sunglasses they were going to overdrive. He had some suspicions, after all, it was not strange for magus to modify their bodies for the sake of their magecraft... but he had a feeling there was something else in play here, and if he was right then he was in an extremely dangerous position.

Foolish of him to not bring his gauntlets, not expecting an altercation like this to happen so soon, but no use crying over spit milk,he still had the protection for his body and legs, so he would just have to improvise, and if that means going along with the man currently talking to him so be it. And so he corrected his posture, he had an inkling it was no use to play the rambunctious old man in this moment, reinforced his body and prepared for anything.

"One do not reach my age without a little cautioness, even more so if you still don't know all the pieces on the board and you are an unknown to me, so yes, i am wary of you"

He reached for his hand (clink clink), but instead of taking it, he grabbed the outer part of the man's forearm, in a strong but not overbearing grip.

"Do ask your question, but forgive an old man for exercising a little of the aforementioned cautioness, i hope you don't mind asking one of my own afterwards though."

---

The crowd barely registered in the mind of the ageless monster, their features and the cycles they followed had become but mere fixtures on the background of his world. Barely thinking of them except at the times when they broke from the conventional, at times like these where for the time being a single of these creatures broke away from the background. Or perhaps he simply had pulled this old man to the main stage of his world. Whether he belonged there was another question, but at least he was a threat.

“Hoh.. a life of struggle, a life of danger.. But that is not unusual for those of us who dwell in this moon-lit world.”

“...”

“Good. Yet this war must be your last, to have one such as you pass on merely through time.. Would simply be too sad.”

He said not in a brash tone, or one of arrogance even. It was strangely respectful, laced with a certain sorrow. One quickly brushed away by his smile, as Kitorai’s grasp was matched by Ahmicqui’s own, though restraining his own power as to not crush the man’s bones and squeeze the magus’s wrist into pulp.

“You may ask as many as you like.”

The bronze-skinned master said with palpable delight. Drawing the elderly master in with a tug, nothing too harmful. Before mounting Kitorai on his back. Holding onto the old master’s legs before starting to move at a leisurely pace.

“What emotion, what feeling drove you to this war. Was it greed, ambition, curiosity, or something different?”

A simple question, enough to offer a hint on one’s motivations without revealing too much. Or perhaps for Ahmicqui it was an easier way to pierce to the heart of the matter without needing to decipher logic.

Once the crowd was cleared, that leisurely pace transformed into a sprint and that same momentum soon became an absurd leap as in a matter of seconds the two of them were leaping from roof to roof. The wind whipped fiercely at them, howling in their ears, as both masters knew they were drawing closer to the park where their servants had decided to bring their battle to.

The way the ageless creature swayed and almost drifted in the air, it almost seemed like he belonged more in the skies than he did locked to the ground. A truth seeming to edged into his very soul, carved into stone from the moment of his birth. Kitorai was permitted to enter that world of the skies, and perhaps the closest one could come to inviting an enemy into their home during a war in a distant land.

---

After several minutes, the two departed from the moon-lit world of the skies and returned to the soil upon which man dwelled. In this case arriving at the very edge of the park, whether it was out of caution or courtesy of that battle of legends was a puzzle for Kitorai to ponder upon as he was returned to the ground and released with proper respect. Ahmicqui taking a few steps forward, permitting time for Kitorai to compose himself before turning around.

“And here we are.. As promised. I have no desire to fight you just yet, so ask anything you like.. Unless you seek to test your strength against mine. If not, let us find some front row seats for the spectacle to unfold.”

@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon


He weaved around the first, then smashed apart the second with his fist. Archer was about to dive in, snarling like the beasts he hunts. But-

He stopped, foot grinding into the dirt. He lifted his arms up crossing them and leaping back. But the bench struck him, and despite his block and movements away from it, he still flew forth, crashing into the structure aimed for.

“You’ve got a lotta power. But we both know there’s more. So, what class are you anyway? WIth that sorta gaze and that strength you can’t be a Berserker. Are you a Knight Class too?”

Tilting his head for a crack of his neck as he climbed out of the rubble that ripped holes through the interior of the building like bullets. He walked out with a grin. The amount of damage he took was less than his foe, although it wasn't as small as he'd have hoped. Really, it was scary that a full on direct hit from his fist could be compared at all. This man could keep up, more than that. Perhaps he was even better at using his body as a weapon in martial arts than Archer, on top of that prodigious strength.

But.

“Or should I ask those fists some more?”

If Lancer had an ability of perception and the channel of his brain that allowed him to follow what was acted with a greater ability than any other. Then it could only be a tool to react to that which is occurring. Powerful as it was it was one that was always on the backpedal in comparison to Archer's ability to feel actions before they happened. Knowing what to do to best strike at his foe and trust in the perception of his body was without a doubt a superior sense that bridged the gap between their strength and Lancer's edge when it came to martial arts.

But what if Archer could close the gap between their strengths?

A fight to prove himself as the greatest, a battle to establish himself and prove the worth of his existence. Esau, the man born with a mighty body, who lauded in his strengths and drank of the pleasures of the earth. He dyed in red.

It was only in such a fight that he reached his full potential.

He launched himself forth, unleashing a barrage of strikes at Lancer's face. Now their blows were equal. The change in power melded with the guiding of his instinct and now he struck, slamming a fist into the side of Lancer.

"If this war has just another like you then it's a rebirth and sabbath more than worth it. But I have no intent of just keeping up with you. The strongest winner in this war.. is me!"

He was of the Rider class. That meant he could easily drive such a modern vehicle with ease. It was after all, the purpose of his class. And yet, he craved a chariot. And yet, as Ashurbanipal sat behind the wheel of that limo, he found the knowledge came to him so easily. This is so much better than walking.

His foot hit the gas, and despite the vehicle's less than graceful nature, it was so easy for him to find that sweet spot. The garage door opened, and he spun the wheel. Suddenly hitting the road, cutting off another vehicle in the process. His tires squealing, and his eyes on the road. He didn't break any laws, not ones that would get him attention anyway... He'd probably ditch the vehicle later, and get something a bit more graceful, like a cab.
Exhaust sputtered out, and he drove down the road. Away from the fighters. Away from the masters and servants bickering and brawling. He was thankful that another showed up, since that meant it was unlikely he'd be chased by a combat hungry fighter. They'd all find themselves after all. He had to put his systems in place.

Sure, he was no caster that would hide in their base all war, but he was certainly no Saber who would run out into public, swinging their sword about without hesitation. He was a more... Graceful kind of ruler. He wanted his resources. He needed his knowledge.
"Everything you said is perfectly possible." He said, adjusting the mirror as he made a harsh turn. With his luck, practically every light was green. Perhaps that was just servant luck. Or just great timing.

__________________________________________________________________________

"Set up a bounded field." Ashurbanipal didn't need to say it, but he felt it necessary to say so anyway. Their vehicle had pulled across the street from the police station, the first step in their current plans. Stretching for a moment, Rider didn't even step out of the vehicle. Instead, he began to disappear, vanishing into light as he returned to his spiritual form. It was better to do such, than to put a face on any cameras that might be sitting outside the station.

__________________________________________________________________________
The Las Vegas Police Department

The police station was a bustle. For many reasons, but on this particular night they were bringing in several members arrested in a gang fight. Paperwork would be a nightmare. Not that any of them would be getting the chance to do such, as a spirit drifted through their building. The camera room was the first spot of interest. No faces. No evidence...
He materialized in the camera room, standing behind the only guard in front of the various monitors. Too busy looking at the monitors that he didn't even have a moment to react before Ashurbanipal grabbed him by the neck. Lifting him from his chair, he threw the guard behind him. A portal opening up, to drag that man all the way to a torture chamber that was already being set up in anticipation.

Ashurbanipal raised his hand, and the camera system was destroyed. Spears fired from golden portals by his side, impaling the machines and ripping them apart with ease. The entire system suddenly went down, and soon, he began to patrol the halls. It was quick, efficent. The whole process from parking his car to returning to it took about a minute, at most two. He would hold up a hand, and chains would lash out from the portals he could summon. Each grabbing an officer or criminal, some even two at once, and dragging them suddenly backwards. None raised their guns in time, and none stood a chance against a servant.

One raised his gun, only to find the weapon shattered in his hands, and then his whole body yanked towards the robed man who was casually strolling through their station. The jail cells were emptied, the police on staff all vanished...

Ashurbanipal returned to a spiritual state, and appeared next in the driver seat of his vehicle.
"Master, I hope I didn't keep you waiting." Ashurbanipal said, with a smile on his lips. "There were roughly one hundred individuals in that station. A healthy amount of bodies, wouldn't you agree?" He took a noticeable pleasure in this. The people now filling his prison were two different kinds. Bringers of justice, and bringers of chaos. Now, both would be sharing the same idolized fate.
"So, onto the next station?"

---

There was never a response to her Masters mental entreaty, though Casters ever-present smile didn't fade for even a moment. Instead, the Gardner patiently listened to the speech about modern thaumaturgy. It seemed that steadily, surely, slowly, Caster was beginning to animate bit by bit.

The words of her master surely were constructive, but infected by this modern eras general decline and march toward apocalypse. Still, she learned a little bit about her true nature, so that was more than enough for her.

"Really, now. Those modern mages have to advance structure to go forward, which pushes thaumaturgy away from the 'origin point' its trying to recreate in the first place." Caster glanced at the water show, but by this point it was clear she had lost any interest in it. After a moment, she continued.

"It's a paradox that can only be resolved in one way. For me, that happens to be a b j e c t d i s a p p o i n t m e n t." Casters smile seemed almost strained for a moment, and her tone certainly betrayed it in every way.

But such ill will wasn't directed at anyone present, thankfully, and it passed as quick as it had come.

Then, Caster half-sighed. It seemed she had resigned herself to expand her Masters education.

"Water and Life are the same thing. The 'origin point' is in its own nature through metamorphosis- just like living things, the base materials won't change, yet the shape and form does. Liquid, Solid, Gas. Life operates in the same cycle, dear." She tilted her head, as if she had just thought of something.

"Why, doesn't that adorable little graveyard cult of yours have a similar philosophy? But, it seems our friend has finally decided to send something more. . .substantial, so I'm afraid our interest should shift to them." The Magus from the Age of Gods turned her attentions firmly toward the newcomer- Titania's familiar.

Caster regarded the familiars comments about lost siblings almost gleefully, yet with no lingering hostility.

"Oh, don't worry yourself. It's just, exhibitionism is something I intend to teach my master first-hand. Spying is off limits until then, you must understand." Her smile persisted as the familiar continued its entreaty. When both creature and master pointed out the bleeding, Caster blinked and straightened up a bit.

"Apologies, darling. You see, it's those little details that usually escape me." Great Magic was enacted, the land subordinated, the mana claimed. The scion of Demeter realigned the remaining parts, absorbed the blood around her, and constructed a suitable replacement arm within an instant.

As if nothing happened, she continued speaking.

"Our position is a matter for my cute little Master to advocate, though I shall decline in her place regarding the candy. Still, I just must ask your name before you two continue. Politeness is an important custom where I come from." Her perpetual smile almost seemed to intensify with those words.

Not bothering with the familiars response, she stepped away to close in on her master- revealing a small flower growing where the Magus had been standing. It was a happy little thing, a primrose swaying to and fro with the wind.

. . .Except, there was no wind tonight. How uncanny.

Regarding her Master, she leaned in close enough for someone to mistake it as a kiss, but it was more in line with whispering some words into the Knight-Captain's ear. However she chose to only mouth the words, instead using their mental link to speak.

"Mankinds original farming tools were made out of human bones. Speak to me as if I'm a child again," Caster referred to Kamila's comment about bleeding in the car, an abnormal glint in her eye.

"And I'll give you a very personal demonstration in their creation." Caster leaned backward, cooly extracting herself from the Knight-Captain's personal space. The Magus gave her master a wink, briefly ruffling their hair with an almost palpable affection.

With that, she casually strolled a few paces away to watch and wait for the show to end, her master to finish talks, or to get bored- whichever came first, really.

Sigmund
The Strip —> Spring Valley Community Park

---

He was scowling again.

Sullenly glancing about at the torn-up street and the clearly shaken-up people, he could tell that he had missed the fun by the tiniest of margins.

It was supremely annoying. But, by itself, nothing he couldn’t deal with.

His legend had not been carved out as that of a hunter among hunters, but the years in the wilderness and the wolf had done something for him in that respect. He moved through the streets, picking up the pace.

On an intellectual level, he understood the idea that they must’ve preferred a more secluded setting to battle, considering the amount of witnesses.

But he just didn’t care. Annoyance kept building up and up. He snarled.

Something made of bone — looking almost like a second jaw — was starting to form on the side of his face.

Closer, closer, just a bit more.

—There.

He stopped in the middle of the street, looking at the figures in the distance, in the middle of the park. His lips twisted into a smile, showing far too many teeth. He started moving, dragging a hand across the hood of a parked vehicle and tearing the metal.

Then, he paused, looked at it for a second and considered.

Well.

Wasn’t it common knowledge in this era that, to avoid vandalism, you should leave your car in a garage?

---

There was not really much flair to what occurred next, nor was it meant to be a sneak attack of any sort. In fact, he was confident that both of the currently battling Servants would be able to react.

Without pretense or hidden intentions, Berserker announced his presence by throwing a roughly 1500kg hunk of steel toward the two. Whether it hit them in the middle of their clash or flew between both of them after they had built some distance didn’t concern him. He hadn’t thrown with the intent to “hit” in the first place.

This was just his way of extending greetings.

He walked forward, a smile firmly set in place and knuckles cracking.

“Yo,” He called out. “I don’t suppose you lot have room for one more?”

Despite what he had said, it was obvious to anyone that cared to look for it that he had no intention of simply sitting down and waiting for his turn.

...Well, this kind of behavior was, to an extent, expected of his class.

“I’ve been wanting to work out the kinks ever since I got called here you see, and I’ve been very annoyed about having to walk all over the city.”

Muscles coiled, he looked ready to spring into the attack. But it seemed that, for whatever reason — perhaps a sense of sportsmanship — he was letting his quarries have the first move.

...But

There was absolutely no doubt about it.

If they did not take that offer, then he would simply seek to overwhelm them in the following instant.

@Yukitamas @Seirei no hai

As he drove, Valentina relaxed in her seat, the journey was quite comfortable, smooth and efficient. It was at this moment she felt gratitude for such a graceful driver, she could only dread what one without Riding would have done and how clunky the ride would have been. In truth, this mode of transport was chosen as celebrities in limos was quite common but she knew after their activities tonight, dumping the vehicle would be the best plan of action.

Simply nodding to her chauffeur, she swiftly set up a bounded field, encapsulating from her position to the police station, allowing her Rider to play out his plan uninterrupted. As he left her she couldn't help but think about what may need to be done to win this war. Whilst some would embark here to have the experience under their belt and return home with the honour of being a combatant in a Holy Grail War, Valentina was here to win. Success was her goal, without it what had been her existence for so long. No other alternative could bring her the pleasure and catharticism that this Grail offered her. Truly, it was a magnificent thing. Outliving her family had given her malicious glee, but the fact that she would accomplish so much more than them? That was true bliss.

She pulled her thoughts back, focussing on the now, not bothering to check on Rider. An ancient king who cared only for knowledge, she respected him and allowed him to his own activities. Sitting idly by made her fake skin crawl, reminding her of how boastful her Creator was of her. Magus. With that memory she turned her attention to her patchwork creation.

---

Sitting idly by, having followed the orders of the Puppet, a patchy doll laid dormant in a bush, its button eye peering out as it laid in the dirt, a little trick to make onlookers think it had been nothing but a tossed away toy. But this was one of Valentina's Friends, and the construct peered into the park, watching the onslaught between a wild Red Man and a white haired youth. Only after the arrival of another and a vicious attack of metal did the construct scramble further into the brush, desperate to avoid the danger that had just introduced herself

---

"Fascinating..." She whispered to herself before returning her attention to her own surroundings, suddenly Rider had reappeared in the driver seat and she turned to him, an eager smile on her face, very pleased with his haul. "Excellent news!
We should hit our next target quickly before any alert is raised. She nodded as she thought to the nearest place on the map that her had shown her. "I believe our next target should be in Sunrise Manor, although, the choice is yours"

She hummed idly as she crossed her legs, ideas bundling up about enchantments she could utilise to further their goals. "I'm sure you may be aware, but the enemies nearby have now increased to three. Three brutes, battling it out in the park like mindless animals. I thought the Red Haired one to be Berserker but now I am not so sure. All three fight with vicious power, none have utilised any conventional weapons, only fists and their surroundings. That at least rules out Saber or Caster"

@Reflection

---

---

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@Kala

Kitorai Valueleta

If Kitorai felt shame for being carried like a child by the younger man he didn't show it in his face, firstly because when you begin to grow old you tend to let small things like this pass. If he still was the Head of his house he would have to struck down the man carrying him inmediately, but he wasn't, and secondly because, honestly, this was too novel of an experience. Sure he flied on on planes before, but that wasn't comparable at all to what was happening now.

They were practically flying, jumping from roof to roof like it was nothing. Sure he could try to do it with his armour reinforced to the maximum and he was sure the effect would be similar...but Ahmicqui was doing without any mystic code, and maybe even without any magecraft. There a few type of people he knew could do this, like the top dogs of the Church or some species of half-breeds, but there was one other hypothesis that could be the answer, and if it was THAT, then he was correct in being cautious about the man.

---

After some minutes that stretched for an eternity in Kitorai mind, they arrived. In that intervail he had time to think about the question directed at him earlier. He could lie or give a non commital answer, but he felt the man in front of him deserved the truth.

"After such an splendid ride i feel obligated to answer your question truthfully. What drove me to renounce to a life of comodity and participate in a war that may as well end my life? the answer it's all the examples you named and more. Yes, i have greed, greed for something more important than money or material things, i have an ambition, a NEED for my name, my own name, not that of my family, to be remembered, to be celebrated decades, even centuries after my death. And so i created something that will make my dream come true, and this was the battlefield where i chose to test my creation... but i guess one such as you couldn't relate to this feeling, you... you aren't as young as you look don't you?

Kitorai body was tensed, prepared to defend himself if his opponent tried anything, yet didn't show any aggresion. This was not a favourable position for him, a fight was not what he was looking for, not yet at least. He was only waiting for what the other party would say.

Seeing the rubble fall off of the Savage King was comedic in a way, Lancer wasn't gonna let this bench down after all... he was planning to use it as a shield but then he broke the ice as he walked, with a charming smile, he twirls the slightly crooked bench like a polearm before changing posture similar to someone raising a shield in defense.

"Well with that performance I gave you a little earlier, I could very well be a Saber." An obvious lie followed by a chuckle. "Too? Oh, in that case... are you a Saber as well? I can't exactly tell but for someone who's a Knight you don't act the part when we first locked eyes in that beautifully lit plaza." Another haughty laughter but this Redborn would've known he was a Lancer, the expertise in twirling a long weapon in front of him was already a big enough hint.

The moment Esau leaped was the moment Lancer Jangar, reinforced himself to take the very blunt of his high-speed punches, the power of this Red Man was enough to bend the metal upwards and the more he defended, the more he found himself overwhelmed at his sudden burst of strength. So he was holding back, he thought! And the sudden strike to his side was proof of it, grunting as he nearly lost his footing. The Lancer wasn't planning to embarrass himself anytime soon and with his foot dug down, he continued to bear the blunt of fistful assaults from the Redborn King.

Although, as exciting as it would have been, something was heading their way... something fast and something heavy. In a last ditch effort to counter both attacks, he quickly leapt backwards, dropping his stance from defense to offense and just barely putting any amount of effort to try and strike this thousand kilogram hunk of junk into orbit with a homerun.

Welp, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

He hoped that with that with whatever's left of this bench's resistance after being brutally beaten to a pulp by Esau's fists, now it will be tested to see if it can repel the steel ball run heading towards them.

@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon @Breo @GreenGoat


“!”
He wasn’t about to be denied. He wasn’t about to be shown up.

So he decided to direct his aggression elsewhere. Lancer’s breaking away wasn’t contested… if anything.

Archer charged forth, letting out a spirited cry as he unleashed his own barrage of fists on the flying metal. The power of the intruding third servant was immense. But there was no way it could stand up to two legends. The fists of Archer and the frame of Lancer’s weapon halted the flight of the car.. Then it began to shatter, then it flew back in a cloud of razor sharp chunk and dust that buffeted the Berserker in a gust.

“You’re pretty strong too, aren’t you. Too bad, I’m still stronger.” The comment was directed to both, but he turned to Lancer with his growing smile. He spoke, both to his foe, and to his master. Physically and mentally he offered a proposal.

“Let’s fight. I want to see what you can do.”

He nodded his head at the third party’s direction. “A battle to show that I’m stronger than you. We can compete by seeing whose fists beat him down better. Works for us doesn’t it?”

An alliance, and yet not. It was a competition and an invitation both to ally and foe.

“Regardless… I’m not gonna wait around.”

He charged, fists lashing out at Berserker.

How he’d move, how Archer should move. Both were felt and even if he was overwhelming in power…

Well, it wasn’t like he was out of reach.

“Now you smell like a beast. But do I gotta beat the truth out of you?”

Sigmund
Spring Valley Community Park

---

Ah good, they seemed to have taken his unspoken warning to equal. That was good, that’d be certain to help out.

Then Archer spoke. And the vestiges of good mood left Berserker.

“...Hah?”

The insufferable smirk had yet to leave his face, even as Archer rushed against him, but there was a slight difference in the air about him. The show of strength had not appeared to concern him, so it had to be a different factor.

They were doubtlessly Heroic Spirits of at least some quality. That much was certain just from the exchange Berserker had observed before interrupting, and only further reinforced by their manner of dealing with his “greeting” as it were.

That much was certain to present him with the chances for some fun.

This was certainly what he had wanted out of the night but—

“Hey, you got a pretty big mouth on you.”

He just had to talk.

He just had to open his mouth. He just had to come at him looking all confident-like. He just had to say that one thing.

His temper flared. Rather than try to dodge or take the hit, he instead reared his arm back and snarled.

“Don’t get fuckin’ cocky with me when I didn’t even put my back into it—!”

He threw his own punch. One to match Archer’s. One to overwhelm him.

Berserker’s pride was not unfounded. In terms of physical might, the amount of heroes that would be able to match him was very small thanks to the nature of the wolfskin, even setting aside his own skills as a warrior.

Yet Archer had the gall to look and throw himself against him with no hesitation. There was no doubt in that gaze of his. He truly seemed to believe that — regardless of how strong Berserker might be — he would prevail in the end.

He had the gall to look at him fearlessly.

“Those eyes of yours fucking piss me off! They’ll be the first thing I rip from your face!”

@Yukitamas @Seirei no hai

What's left of the bench... well... Lancer put it back in its original place however it simply tilts awkwardly the moment he left it alone, staring at the third man who seemed to be more of a savage compared to the Redborn beside him.

Yes this man, this Berserker exhibits the aura of something dangerous even he could see it from where he was, the part where he just chucked a heavy object with such power and speed could only mean that this guy is bad news. What's worse? He doesn't seem to be inherently Evil as something didn't click with him and his spear, just approaching



"Seems this party crasher is exceedingly scary both mentally and physically." Helpful commentary by the ever beautiful Jangar as he turned to his new target, seemingly understanding what Esau here is getting at.

Since they're both equally matched then it's obvious to team up and defeat the stronger target but who's to say that this also wasn't a scheme to gain the upper hand in the middle of the fighting.

As Archer got Berserker's attention, he inhaled they were slight openings from both of them, each attack more ferocious with Berserker's giving off an intent "to brutally murder both of their asses".

The moment a gap opened up between their squabble. Lancer took the opportunity to strike with a running kick aimed towards Berserker, he didn't put all of his strength in it as the possibility of this very angry gorilla-like heathen grabbing Lancer's foot and using his beautiful body as a weapon against Archer could be very likely, he'd try to lock his legs around him and put him into a devastating hold that would hinder him in terms of weight.

It was worth a try.

Adjusting his seat, Ashurbanipal was back in the driver seat. His fingers running against the steering wheel, and feeling each groove in the gear shift. He could already tell he would prefer a manual over an automatic. Better control over the gears, less wear. Perfect for a Rider who might need to make certain turns another couldn't.

"We shall keep to the plan. Nobody has made any moves, and I'd rather get this done before the night ends. We're both at the highest risk right now, so keeping an active pace would be beneficial in the long, and short term. We're less likely to be attacked the further we move from the epicenter of the war." A simple plan, but simple didn't always mean it would work. Simply that it required the least amount of specific circumstances or leaps in logic to accomplish. But, his master clearly had other worries on her mind. Ones he might have to alleviate.

"We cannot rule out a Saber. I would not be surprised if one simply refuses to use a sword for the first night, to try and hide their identity. After all, some swords are so famous that they can give an identity away instantly." Ashurbanipal said. "But... But..." He rolled those buts around a bit. "Caster would never fight in such a way, unless they're uniquely qualified for hand to hand combat. Which, I doubt such an oddity would appear, or at least tip their hand so early. So, the choices are Archer, Lancer, Berserker, and Assassin. Assassin is also out, since no assassin would ever attack publicly so early either. Unless, as before with caster, there is a unique oddity. Which we are better off ruling out unless later proved wrong. So, we can assume that the three are either Lancer, Archer, or Berserker."

He waited for some descriptions of the fight's progress, before throwing in some opinions. "The one with the bench... I'm going to assume is the Lancer. It's the kind of weapon a Lancer would prefer if trying to hide their spear. Archer is the red headed one, by mere account of the third arrival being a far better fit for the Berserker class. Throwing a car sounds like them." He took a turn, almost tempted to just hit the gas and speed off even faster than he was going right now.

The car slowed at a traffic light. There weren't any other cars on the road at the moment, since they were slightly off the usual main roads that people might be taking in or out of the city. Their pleasant conversation was interrupted then, in the most filthy manner possible. Three hookers, knocking on the window.
"Hey there cutie!" One shouted through the window. "Can you give us a ride? We're low on cash, but it's getting cold out here, and we've always wanted to drive in comfort." One of the three even flashed their breasts. Unsightly. Annoying, and after that, they just kept rapping on the window. The light was still red.

"Forgive me Master... I cannot let this stand." Ashurbanipal said, letting out a trickle of magical energy. Three portals opened up around the vehicle, and before any of the three prostitutes could change their minds, three spears launched out. Like claws that dug into that exposed skin, and pulled them away into the golden portals. Each of the three gone in a moment.

"This entire city is the pits. Were my beautiful Assyria still around, I'd have torn this entire city apart for the good of humanity." He said, and hit the gas as soon as the light turned green. There were doubtfully any witnesses. And if there was, they would either be drunk, or just assume their eyes had played tricks on them. Still, it was a poor action on his part. A bit of disgust at the girls, and in himself for allowing such a moment transpire.

"Tell me, is prostitution like this normal now? In my time, the sacred prostitute Shamhat brought honor to her position. They welcomed, rather than harassed... Humanity has degraded."

So water was an ouroboros? Was that her Servant’s point? Water was always water, no matter what sort of shape it took? It was a fitting analog for life, considering how the same basic pieces make anything from a tardigrade to a mammoth. Kamila had no real problem with this reasoning for water being the element of life.

However, she wasn’t exactly sure how much it differed from water.

Fire is something doomed to death. While other substances can exist indefinitely in a state, fires are doomed to fade away the moment they’re lit. From their conception, they are to die. Despite that, they spread and create new fires. Even if the original fire is gone, it has created anew. The life of a fire follows a similar path as the life of all organisms.

Exist -> Create More -> Die

A never ending chain which forms a cycle.

It was also required for all life to exist, but that was secondary.

Of course, the major flaw to this theory is that a fire can be snuffed out before spreading, but really, can’t the same apply to anything?

Though, this wasn’t exactly a refutation to the point her Servant had made. If anything, she couldn’t even argue against it, as Fire exists in a state independent of Liquid/Solid/Gas. Fire is outside of the cycle to begin with, so there was never a point to argue against her Servant. If anything, she’d contend with the definition placed, but that seemed a bit pedantic at the moment.

The Knight Captain was going to explain to her Master the Church’s origins in why Fire was the origin of life, but it seemed they were interrupted by someone’s...familiar? Yeah, some sort of familiar. She wasn’t going to take the candy from a suspicious familiar to begin with, so she was fine with her Servant declining on her behalf.

Still, now it meant she actually had to deal with others. While this was fine usually, in these circumstances, it made things...fairly awkward.

Kamila was planning on at least opening up conversation, but was then interrupted by her partner’s whispering.
It took quite a bit of willpower to keep a straight face after a threat such as that, but it was in the nature of a member of the Church to suppress anything along the lines of fear.

So this was the type of monster she had summoned.

It wasn’t about the raw power of a Servant, that was something Kamila felt was fairly inconsequential. Rather, the mannerisms of her Servant, and especially the way she spoke those final words, were more than enough to nearly reinstate the fear of God into the Knight Captain. Her Servant seemed eerie, but this was...definitely different than what she was expecting to come from the small green haired Caster.

In other words, Kamila needed to be more careful when addressing them.

Apologies, Caster. I’ll refrain from doing it again.

Hopefully something short and sweet was enough.

Once she had regained herself, Kamila began her talks with the Familiar.

---

The terms of their agreement were simple. The exchanging of names and a general pact to not kill each other early on, with fine print such as “please don’t hurt random people.” It was really the most basic of agreements, but that was enough for them. With the most basic of details hashed out, Kamila said farewell, and returned to her car and Servant.

“I hope you’re fine with the arrangement. I don’t see the need to make her an active enemy this early. My first priority will be the actual threats to the citizens of Vegas.”

Once she had returned to the driver’s seat, she took a small moment to stretch. It had been a stressful day, but she could see the impending stress that the rest of the night would surely hold. And, of course, the moment you speak of a devil…

An alert from her PDA went off. It was a new model, it was a better deal than a Cell Phone. Imagine actually having to pay for minutes when someone can just send you an email on a PDA? Her model even got the news! Truly, the PDA was superior to the cell phone, something that would eventually fade away as PDA technology got better.

The alert was from the local Priest of the Central Christian Church. Despite her being a participant and not technically on a church affiliated mission, it should have been no surprise that she was going to be updated by them. After all, to the Church, even someone from another denomination was better than a magus.

The Downtown Police Station was raided, people were missing, and the cameras were destroyed. While this, in theory, could have been anyone, considering they actually succeeded, it was highly likely that it was done by a Magus or a Dead Apostle. The connectedness of police precincts within the City meant that what happened here would have been picked up on fairly easily. Especially considering how interconnected they are in the heart of big cities, where precincts can be as small as a few blocks.

While those taken were prisoners, that didn’t mean it was excusable, to Kamila at least. The dead were not to decide whether the living were worthy of death or not. While the Church itself didn’t have the Casus Belli to put a hit on the person who did it, Kamila was acting as an independent agent after all. In the end, it meant that this attack was now Kamila’s business. And, of course, this was absolutely not the business she really enjoyed being in.

“Caster, I think I found out what we’re going to do tonight. It seems that someone attacked a police department in Downtown. I’ll need your help tracking them down, but I have a feeling you already have the general location of half the magi in the city by now.”

Once her Servant was alerted, Kamila turned on the ignition, and floored it.

[Bellagio Fountain, The Strip] -> [Charleston Street, Sunrise]

---

Speeding was illegal, but considering the current shortage of Police, Kamila was fairly confident that she could speed her way over to where Caster was describing. Another glorious benefit to the PDA was the built in GPS, which was much less effective than Caster, but it at least gave her suitable roads to drive on. Scrying in a modern world could only bring you so far, as they normally didn’t include roads.

“So, do you think this will turn into a speeding car chase? I mean, I’d rather deal with them on foot... but it would be kind of cool being in one, right? I guess it would endanger the public too much...”

One day she’d be able to reenact Tokyo Drift.

One day.

Until that day, she would look around for those who would dare harm the innocent people of the City of Sin

@Reflection@Scallop@Mr President@KatKook

@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon @Breo @GreenGoat


“"It's a good thing to have a big mouth don't you know? If you can't measure up to how wide it is with talk or enough food to shove it up, it just shows that you're not as strong as you should be. Isn’t that natural?”

The statement came with a matter of fact air, distant from the arrogant words of self-affirmation and praise that had set off Berserker in the first place. A simple, almost childish and bestial logic. “Besides it’s better to be able to eat faster so you can enjoy more quicker. When you’re busy and in danger you can eat quicker so you can move on too. Having a big mouth is good!”

The declaration of Berserker and his raw palpable hostility however brought him back to his readied stance. Excitement and consideration coarsed through Archer as he locked gazes with his new foe.

“Hm, eyes however. You’ve got a point.”

The power of Berserker exceeded even Archer in his current state grasping for supremacy. But that was a given and a truth known to a hunter like him. So he didn’t clash, not directly anyway. He was faster, he was stronger. But step in here and thrust out your hand so and bring to him defeat!

He weaved low, away from the blow while his own fist held itself up like a shield, grinding against the side of Berserker’s fang as it pushed against the inside of his arm to redirect the blow.

“You’ve got good eyes, I like them. It’s more of a bite than your teeth. I’ll cut them away and show them off as my first trophy.”

He didn’t back away. In fact Archer advanced, a step forward grinding into the ground and taking him even closer to the wolf. One didn’t fight a beast head on, fist on fist. But that didn’t mean a hunter couldn’t advance or push ahead against them. To get caught in his fangs was dangerous, even if he had the confidence to get out or even turn it on him. But underestimating a being like this was foolish, and even if he couldn’t see through the tricks that his brother would be able to present when it came to a hunt he was as serious. His gut told him that this was a foe he couldn’t cautiously parse overtime.

“Hraaaaah!”

A jab, light by his standards, yet bristling with enough power for even the mighty hero to take note of as a proper blow flew towards Berserker’s neck while with a extra burst of activity he tried to unbalance him with a shove of Berserker’s extended arm away to throw it to the side.Entrap him, narrow his movements and take his measure. That was the usual tactic for preying on great beasts and men but… This guy would come at him in a full measure of power. So he had to put him on the back foot.

A punch led to a lash coming out from knee. He retreated with a flinging of his head like a skull-formed mace before slipping to Berserker's side, adamantly refusing to back down from him, then advanced again with a flurry of blows. Mixing it up without much of a pattern and thought, simply going with what felt right with the position of his body. Predictable and yet in its smooth flow, the anticipatory movements that struck on a whim managed to fit within the frame of his plan. He circled Berserker, trying to wear down at him and shift their role as aggressor and defender.

"Such inner conflict... such turmoil... how intriguing." The figure seated beside Simon spoke with a raspy machine-like voice, spinning one of the psychic's star-shaped knives around a finger. For the most part, the man stayed silent, finding some sort of enjoyment in the bickering of the driver's split selves. Once authorization on the usage of the radio was properly bestowed, the figure raised his head excitedly. With a flourish, the figure swiftly reached for his hip, procuring a certain CD, whispering an incantation within it before throwing it into the CD player successfully and, surprisingly, without any sort of damage to the disc or the car's radio player.

"How do you like that, Master? I've been practicing!" The figure raised his head, his single eye glinting a scarlet sheen with excitement. In truth, however, the man had simply cast a spell on the disc, enforcing a fate that allowed it to find its way to the thrower's intended target. Whoever this figure was, he seemed to be both gifted and mercurial in the use of dark arts... and as the lights of the City of Sin began to shine on the Servant, his visage was made much clearer. Judging by his apparel, it seems that the man seated beside Simon also enjoyed a bit of souvenir shopping, sporting a wide-brimmed hat and a- wait. We aren't even in Mexico! Where did he even get that ponch-

---

As they made their way down Las Vegas Boulevard, Kullervo gazed towards the heart of the city, his smile growing eagerly. So much sin, so much hate, so much misfortune... this land truly was a nexus of misfortune, a swirling sandstorm in the middle of this barren desert. It was the perfect stage for his vengeance to be made once more. As he struggled to hold in his blood-lust any further, Kullervo turned the volume up on the radio to the max, rocking his head vigorously as he sunk himself into the raging sound of Nu Metal. As he lost himself into the music, he began to contemplate some of its lyrics. The singer had sung his regret about the terrible things he's done, but all Kullervo could wonder was what exactly were those things? It was then that Kullervo began to think of the things he, himself, has done... and would slowly feel like he was finally understood!

Before he could fully lose himself to the music, Kullervo opened the glove compartment, pulling out a city map both himself and his Master grabbed (and promptly defaced) at one of the gas stations on the way. Looking outside the window and seeing as they began to pass Nellis Air Force Base, Kullervo quickly traced his fingers from what he believes they're at to a key location on their map.

"Ah, Master! Before we get to our suite, how about we head over here first?" Kullervo pointed at the encircled location on his map: Shadow Rock Park. "I feel like we could warm up with a game of baseball before we get started with the night! What do you say?" Kullervo turned to Simon, then to Phobia. "And what about you? Think you can make us a ball and a bat or two out of shadows? Actually, never mind the bat... I think my sword could do just fine! Hahaha!"

Sigmund
Spring Valley Community Park

---

Ants coming together to defeat a greater foe. That much was understandable — even expected, to a degree.

The truth of the matter, however, was that at this point, Berserker only cared to crush one of them in earnest, having all but forgotten the other.

The main goal right now, with his vision tunneling on Archer, was simply to grind his face to dust.

Let him bob and weave all he liked. Truth be told, that suited him just fine. Using Archer’s pushing against his arm for himself, he allowed the limb to move in an almost sweeping motion as if to ward-off the other small-fry that wanted to jump him while he was busy, or at least impede the full extent of the assault. Then—

Berserker’s mind raced.

That’s right, not only had he been a great warrior in life, but the instincts of the beast that he had attained had melded together with his battle experience and skills in order to forge something new.

So long as it only concerned “slaying the enemy”, he would not lose out to anyone. He refused to lose out to anyone. Archer's speed did not surpass his, neither did the other's. And he was confident that he possessed the highest "specs" in the other areas.

With his instincts and his skill, that was plenty.

Berserker’s second fist, already clenched, descended upon the enemy like a hammer, curving over Archer’s arm from the outside as it came upward from his jab and following a clear path toward the red-haired man’s head.

Rather than try to match the footwork, Berserker simply desired to blow his head off by using Archer’s own movements against him. Given that the bowman was moving to the side and upward, that meant a direct collision path with Berserker’s fist was clear.

Whether Archer’s jab hit was inconsequential. Or rather, to Berserker, the jab was a small price to pay in the larger picture.

To begin with, putting your own body, your own life, on the line was what it meant to “fight”.

@Yukitamas @Seirei no hai