Gambling in Gomorrah

[William Debaere]

On a lonely street in Piazzi de Brancoli, theres what appears to be a small pub. During the day they serve the standard fare, shooing out the last of the night folk to welcome in the dawn. But when the sun sets, this otherwise inexplicable building becomes the infamous Gomorrah, a wretched hive of cigarette smoke, liquor, and sin. The small pub seems to expand beyond its daytime borders. The bar extending longer along the wall, and the back rooms opening to those who wish to ply their questionable trades.

Gomorrah existed on the very borders of the law, crossing back and forth like a shadow flickering in candlelight. Those who came to Gomorrah didn’t go there for fun, though a good time could certainly be had if you chose the right company. Of course you could choose wrong and a good time at night could turn to missing articles of varying value the next morning. The back rooms were numerous and interconnected. Some open, more shut. These open rooms were welcome to any old stranger who rolled into town with the morning breeze, as well as the street-level hustlers that fed off them.

Waltzing that fine line between them was William Debaere, the newest addition to the motley crew of regulars and irregulars. He sat in one of the open rooms with his back to the wall facing out so that he had a clear view of the bar and the front door.

He sat with his chair leaning back on its rear legs, his striped hat bent low and covering his eyes in shadow. He’d been playing the slow game all night, slowly calculating his wins and losses, even throwing a few winning hands in order to drag the night on. He’d won more than anyone else over the past few hours, keeping his winnings organized and moving it bit by bit furtively to his pocket or sock to never make it look like he was taking a strong lead. Luck had barely mattered, the buffoons were rolling in from the streets like the tide. Amateurs trying to win a quick buck. William had been playing far too long to be among their ranks, but he had no problem where he was. For starters, he was the new guy, and no one expected him to do anything but go down and sulk out. A few nights of steady wins and he gets access behind closed doors, where the real action happened. Where people bet not just money, but the big stakes, information.

That’s what he’d been looking for when he entered the city that morning. When you knew where to ask, places like this came up like a blaring siren on his radar.

He was also issuing a challenge on another level. His circuits were flared wide open, no doubt creating an effect that could be picked up with ease. Gomorrah was crowded, no way this was a challenge for combat, no, any idiot could tell this was a challenge to match wits and gamble. No stuck up tower-brat could resist such an assault on their ego. After all, this was an ideal chance to size up and psyche out the competition. Who could resist?
He looked up from under his hat as another player left, making their excuses. But Bill wasn’t watching them leave, his eyes flashed up to the rafters above the bar outside their little room. There, cloaked in shadow he knew Assassin was hiding. He had to hand it to her, she was damn good. His eyes felt the urge to simply slide away, and only the knowledge that she was there allowed him to catch the faintest hint of her outline. Concealing her presence, huh? Hell of a thing.

Of course, with a few of the tougher customers, Assassin had become quite handy with her eye in the proverbial sky. Bill didn't mind a little cheating, sure it ruined the sport, but he wasn't in it for the sport anymore.

Okay Assassin, game plan. We'll continue this for a while, maybe switch rooms if too many of these guys begin to get curious looks. Don't want em to think I'm cheating now do I?

But the big fish tonight are other Magi, particularly other Masters. I doubt one is stupid enough to wander in here undefended. But right now I just look like some punk who dropped out of the Clock Tower. I need you to be my Ace in the Hole in case things get interesting. We Agreed, or do you have some suggestions, Lord knows you're better at this than I am.[/color]

He swept his eyes back down to the table, tonight was going to be, if nothing else, profitable; But if his luck held out, things might get very interesting.

[Hassan-i-Sabbah the 19th]

Gambling. A sinner’s past time activity. A slippery one-way road towards eternal damnation.

All of those means nothing to the Hashshashins, it’s just one more tool to be taken advantage of. They, after all, didn’t feel any great desire of material wealth. It was all just means to various ends, therefore gambling made a surprisingly good resource of information for the Hashshashins. Like them or not, criminals need contacts if they aspire to be more than a street rat or a mere henchman, that’s where places like where she’s standing in right now is for. A central hub for everything related to the city, both unsavory and otherwise. It’s where information ranging from the mundane-but-important to the unusual makes it way towards the ears of various individuals. That’s why she and her master are here. Or so she thought.

She can feel that her master has a goal that he can concentrate for, but the temptation of a gambling table can be subtle. Once you’ve had a few winnings, you can be sure that they would hook you in to continue playing. There are not many men that can resist that temptation.

She had been assisting her master in getting a few wins, granted, but it was all a means to an end. Or at least that’s what she thought before his master insisted on winning a bit more in order to attract attention as a ‘lucky man’ on the table. Assassin isn’t quite sure what to make of that. On one hand, it’s good enough bait, and perhaps sooner or later someone would take the bait. On the other side of the coin, it’s still her master acting like bait. She still prefers if the one in the ‘hotseat’ is a patsy, a man that only wants to have the winning and she certainly can provide that. Child’s play. But now it’s her master himself that’s currently sitting on the seat of a gambler, winning another hand that would surely be another warning bell sounded at his direction.

Even then, Assassin can sense another warning bell sound resonating from her master. The smell of prana would certainly act like a beacon towards the magically-inclined flies buzzing around the light of the lamp. Assassin certainly can sense a few of them ever since they enter the premises, but she can’t determine what intention they would have towards her master. Indeed, this place is a rumor’s mill, where everyone has a chance of knowing something new that they’re interested on, even magi. Still, this action seems to be quite reckless, but it’s perfectly within her calculations. No sane master would start a fight where they can be seen quite literally by everyone, and the hesitation would offer an advantage to the discreet. If they’re not quite sane then well, they say that death is the only thing that can cure insanity.

They’re wrong, of course, but it’s one way to solve the problem semi-permanently.

Tossing one of the chips she got from one of the table by one hand, she occasionally tried the sleight of hand tricks that she picked up a long time ago. It feels strange to once again posses a hand that can take advantage of that skill.

I still think that this is too reckless, master…But if you’re looking for attention, the room stirs every time you collect your winning…And I’ve detected some of your ‘peers’ around here, some of them even quite close…

She can easily toss the chip in her hand and cause an instant commotion, picking up a few more kills in the meantime, but that would defeat the purpose…Instead she can only wait for one of them to show up now.

[Adam Wells]

Well, this was certainly… Interesting.

Adam was a Master Magus technically, but most wouldn’t consider him a particularly skilled Magus… Still, it was elementary to detect open circuits like he could detect. It was deeper in this pub, whoever the Magus was, they were probably cheating. That seemed a bit… silly, really. Where was the fun in that?

Adam did enjoy a good game of poker. He wasn’t a professional, he was smart enough to know that, but he did usually manage to turn up a profit in games with more amateur players. Mainly due to the inability for people to distinguish a smile from him that meant he had a straight flush, and a smile that had nothing but he wanted to put money in anyway to see how it would turn out. Meanwhile, Adam was pretty good at telling others. It was amazing how many people didn’t think they had a “tell” yet did. Usually they would focus so much on the face, you could tell by the hands, or other visible body parts.

The problem was, when it came to being professional, it came down to maths. They put order into the chaotic game, and that just took the fun out of it.

Most people wouldn’t go to a pub like this for fun and poker though… Then again, Adam wasn’t most people. The seedy atmosphere, the horrific stench. It was all just a game to Adam, one of those pubs that was a hair trigger away from one act of violence or another, and quite a stage show seeing what set things off and the results thereof.

Still, that magus… They probably weren’t just a magus.

Adam barely noticed as another player on the table called his bluff and managed to take a hefty chunk out of Adam’s chips. He noted the pain on his shoulder, something he really needed to keep a better eye on.

That magus was probably a Master. Anne hadn’t mentioned anything about another Servant though. So it was either a invitation to make a kick-ass team with someone… or his Servant was Assassin.

Or both, that would be cool.

The door opened and a man exited. Out of the corner of his eye Adam looked at who was beyond that door. A small group of people, it seems, and Adam wasn’t sure from that quick glimpse which was the Master. Heck, he could have been concealed by some of the larger people there.

Adam wasn’t wearing anything particularly outlandish at the moment; one could describe him as “casual”. A striped shirt with jeans, he seemed like a bunch of the tourists who had come to the casino. The strangest thing was probably the sunglasses indoors, although a surprising number of people were doing the same thing. Still, so far nobody seemed to recognize him.

Damn, he was good. Even with such a simple disguise, he was… invisible.

Anne was nearby doing some gambling of her own. Far enough away to make them seem unrelated, but close enough so that if Adam was attacked, Anne should be close enough to save him. In theory, anyway. A part of him did want to put that theory to the test, but maybe another time. For now…

Actually, waiting seemed like the most fun. He might not be the only additional Magus, or even Master, in this pub, and it would be nice to see if another was lured to the Master. If he did nothing, it was unlikely he could be picked out of the crowd as a Master himself until he wanted to be. So yeah, wait several minutes, and see if anything happens.

‘We may act soon, keep an eye out, Rider. Don’t go leaving for no good reason again, dear. Never know what scary Servants are out to get me.’

Inwardly, Adam chuckled. No, he didn’t particularly care that his Servant had run off to have some fun without asking, but it was amusing to mention it every so often.

[Anne Bonny]

Ya-aawn.

Buried under a growing mound of chips, Rider, feet propped up on the table, gazing at her hand with bored superiority (for what it mattered, it was a straight flush), put on her very best poker face.

And, to be fair, it didn’t take much acting on her part to look disinterested.

For what it mattered, she’d already powered through and destroyed more than a dozen of the competition, and was still going strong. It seemed a few hundred years didn’t diminish Lady Luck’s influence in the slightest, and she had gleefully collected her winnings each and every round with a smile and an improbably good hand. To the point that she had already been accused of cheating.

She’d showed him who’d been boss.

Even so, Anne wasn’t sure she didn’t enjoy those dark looks that oozed venom and vitriol, but most of all envy, which were beginning to be cast her way every so often. Did they hope that they would intimidate her into submission? If anything, all it was achieving was doing the exact opposite, and Anne, though good humour still not entirely recovered from that run-in at the bar, found their petty frustrations to be so very cute.

With a small smile, and a shrug, she showed her and flashed a grin – and then scooped up the entire pool. She didn’t doubt that there were probably a few among them who’d have liked nothing more than to punch her in the face, but she wasn’t sure if her Master’d appreciate her riling up the fellows more than she already was (though they were asking for it even more than that one-handed knight from earlier that afternoon).

“S’posing I’ll be taking these now,” she winked, and some, in good humour, offered a tired smile back, flicking her gaze casually around the room before letting it settle once again on her spoils,“ thank ye kindly, gentlemen.”

Dunno if you’ve noticed, Master, but seems like the lil’ bird’s finally left ‘eir nest.

She watched the dealer deal out the cards with that aura of suave confidence that she’d maintained for the whole night, but this time, she was concentrating elsewhere. When she picked up her hand, she hardly acknowledged that it was another winning one, before her Master fired off his instructions at her.

We may act soon. Keep an eye out, Rider. Don’t go leaving for no good reason again, dear. Yeowch. Never know what scary Servants are out to get me.

Aye-aye, Capt’n.

Anne didn’t seem apologetic at all. Her Master had mentioned it to her when she’d returned, in a far blacker mood that what her time in the gambling establishment had earned her (the grog was still terrible, though the second time wasn’t quite as much as a shock as the first). Even if an enemy Servant didn’t show up, she’d have had herself a good time.

Still, there was something niggling at the back of her mind, something that made her overlook a possible raise she could’ve done. She couldn’t detect a Servant anywhere, no matter how hard she’d probed. It wasn’t even some vague shadow dancing in and out of her range of detection, it was just nothing.

Speakin’ of big scary Servants, Master, I don’t seem to detect one anywhere – and I think we both know what that could mean, mm?

“Royal flush,” she beamed at them, threw her cards down on the table, grinned at the collective looks of consternation, and, once more, scooped her winnings, “ nice try, boys.”

She continued to play, though always, now, with an eye on the magus who had been so brazenly advertising himself. Odd thing for a fellow to do – ‘specially in and among enemies.

Eh.

She didn’t bother herself too much with the details – she’d face each new hurdle as it came; no use in fretting over what might not even matter.

[Shiki Hiiragi]

Yeah, seriously, he didn't want to be here. Those were the only thoughts that Shiki Hiiragi thought about when he opened the doors to the alcohol to find that he was out of alcohol.

He was thinking carefully on how to break the bad news to his Servant, and decided to be honest. To his surprise, she actually looked somewhat pleased, and demanded to go and get vodka.

...That's the reason. She only drank the wine and the such that was left behind because she wanted alcohol to drink. The only reason why the alcohol was left behind was because the old man that left the apartment to Shiki for housekeeping while the boy was vacationing in Lucca for a break from the usual, terrible life that he normally lived in Japan believed that Shiki would not drink any of the aging alcohol, as Shiki was sixteen (he had to smuggle in by boat to travel alone, as he lacked parents or guardians to sign permission for him, a minor, to travel alone), and as such, being a responsible sixteen year old, the boy wouldn't dare drink it.

...Shiki clapped his hand together and prayed to God, praying that Shiki would be able to repay the old man of all that alcohol...although money can't pay for the aging the alcohol underwent. Aging like that had to be delicious, and Shiki cried tears of regret inside that he didn't manage to keep Berserker from chugging it down.

And now she wanted to go for vodka! Why won't this Servant let her Master wallow in his grief for losing all that priceless alcohol!?

The only thing to now was to sit sullenly while Berserker chugged down the little vodka this small pub had, while Shiki silently cried to himself. At least the owner was passionate enough about drinking that he charged on the house for the little vodka that was lost. Perhaps no one liked Russian drinks? At least it wasn't wasted, that alcohol.

And everyone else in the pub? Most of them were at the tables, gambling, while others were drinking and laughing with Berserker as all of them drank, and perhaps maybe a few of them were hitting on her.

Not that Shiki cared. Putting his hand on hips, looking around, and sighing...

"But honestly, what kind of a pub is this?"

One would think that somebody would notice that a minor was in the pub at the moment. Seriously.

[Ilya Muromets]

All Ilya wanted was a little joy. A little joy contained in a large, bottomless bottle. Her master had failed to supply a sufficient amount joy and the buzzed-but-not-buzzed-enough Ilya demanded more. She made it clear to Shiki she needed more to drink. Waving her hands around and speaking a slur of Russian and English. She didn't really care if Shiki understood her or not, she just needed booze.

All her Master managed to muster was the wine. Which was rather a bore. In Ilya's heyday wine was her water, she'd always have a few cheap bottles with her. The wine barely quenched Ilya's unbelievably deep thirst, and she quickly gave her master the order to get more. He seemed hesitant, and briefly Ilya wondered if she go get her boot....

Her master swayed to her side without the boot thankfully. Which was why he was crying on the inside and Ilya was joyously whistling a tune that made no sense. Like a pumped up frat boy Ilya burst into the pub bravely yelling "For the motherland!"

Which is the Russian equivalent of "Party in the HIZ-HOUSE."

Ilya attracted many eyes as she settled down in the pub. Some from people who were less than pleased with her behavior, others to drunk to care, and some men with lusty eyes.

Ilya's eyes were automatically attracted to the gambling tables though she had never been interested in the sport... her eyes quickly were pulled away by the gleam of the bottles of alcohol. Ilya could tell Shiki and her weren't the only magical couple here. She could act immediately and do something about it, but... the vodka...

So without a second though Ilya strutted up to the bar and obtained her drink. She took a deep breath, and took her first sip...

And then Ilya remembered why she loved life. She no longer thought about threatening people with her boot, but the sweet burn of the best drink ever. Then the shouting and random toasting began. The down-tempo bar now had a chorus of drunken laughter going through it. Ilya was happy, almost a new carefree woman. She was boasting and enjoying the alcohol's warped effects. Ilya now had a fire in her throat and her heart! The fire that burned away all the distractions and bad things in life, the fire of alcohol. Almost oblivious to everything besides her drink Ilya was a bit worried about getting to comfortable.

'Silver, I'm pretty sure there's another servant here. You might to.. prepare. I'm not sure if they're friend or foe.'[/b]
Ilya buried her worries in the remaining alcohol and decided to stay on the defense.

[William Debaere]

Slowly but surely, the company had started crawling in. Not the boring, mundane drinkers and gamblers, but the competitors he'd been looking for. There were four of them inside now, discounting Assassin, two masters and their servants.

The silver-haired kid who'd walked in moved with an obvious air of dislike. He stood out like a sore thumb in this crowd, partaking in neither the drink nor the gambling. The other magus was doing much better, from what William could hear, he was exchanging lighthearted jokes and banter, win or lose. The guy'd lost a hefty hunk of cash and he was still smiling like a champ, Bill had to respect a guy like that.

The servants were also quite different. The blonde one had taken immediately to the tables and, by the sound of it, was clearing the damn house. Bill watched as her opponents left one after another as they were cleaned out. He tried to listened in to what she was putting on the table, and he wasn't liking what he heard.

A royal flush? Seriously?

He knew that she certainly had unearthly amounts of luck, but there was no reason to flaunt it like that.

The other servant, meanwhile, was enjoying the other distinct vice of Gomorrah, namely the booze. Lots of it. She had come in to the bar with a joyous cry of "For the Motherland!" and had hit the vodka like a champ. These two women were going to run the place out of business...

His table soon cleared out, leaving Bill with a respectable pile of chips. Putting them in a bag, Bill got up and wandered over to the table of the black-haired Master, causing several of them to leave as the round ended.

"Mind if I join?" he asked with a friendly smile as he laid out some of his chips on the table (he needed to hold on to a few, a man's gotta eat.)

Assassin, I'm going to see if I can't clear a table for the Masters to chat in private. Keep an eye on what the servants are up to, if you can, but don't drop Presence Concealment until you absolutely have to. I like this advantage.[/color]

[Hassan-i-Sabbah the 19th]

Two servants, two master. She counted.

It’s not the best of odds if they would gang up on her immediately, but diversion’s the name of the game here. They would be more likely to notice each other than her; all the while she’s free to observe the two of them with almost free reign. As long as she rein the other girl in order to not surface in this time, of course.

Well, even she can see how important this mission is.

Hey! What’s that supposed to mean!?

Quiet.

Fiiiiine. See if I care.

She had observed the other two servants by their behaviors ever since they first entered the premises. The one on the gambling table seems to know a thing or two about these establishments, meaning that she was an outlaw when she lived, or at least teetering on the edge of the law enforcement, which she can relate too. Doesn’t seem like a subtle one though, so maybe the outlaw comparison would be more apt for her. The other one though…well, she certainly seems boisterous enough to fit the whole hero image. Plus, the way she downed her alcohol reminds her of the way those foreign mercenaries celebrates their victories. Certainly with a bit of flair, but it’s a bit premature to be celebrating anything currently. Discounting their status as enemies, they look somewhat similar to each other, perhaps more of a friendly enemy should the circumstances arise.

Their masters, however, can’t be more different than night and day. The gambler is a bit like his servant, fun-loving and quite sociable, and seems to know a thing or two in the gambling table as well, given the ratio of winning and losing he got. On the other hand, the silver haired youth isn’t quite like his servant, seems to be quite nervous and does his best not to attract a lot of attention, even if his continuous prying would probably garner more attention than he would like to. A lovely bunch of targets for sure, but doing so in the presence of two servants isn’t the safest plan in the world. Not to mention that her master would probably appreciate it if she refrain from doing that.

Just as she finished entertaining that thought, her master would send her the exact same thing she’d thought that he would say regarding this situation. Perhaps she and her master are beginning to see eye to eye.

More like he’s easy to read.

…That too.

Walking past the drunken man wielding a bottle of whiskey, she makes her way towards where the two servants are ‘stationed’. Walking past them, not stopping at the wall blocking her path, she continues her stride and walks vertically onto the wall, as if her center of gravity shifts towards the wall. Reaching the top part of the wall, she turns around, gaining a bird’s eye view towards the room. It’s not much of a vantage point however; as the clear vision’s limited to just one part of the room, but it’s still good enough for a packed room such as this one.

…I’m in position, master. Do please be careful there…I can’t immediately assist you should the need arise…

[Adam Wells]

Rider had given him a heads-up that she had detected a Servant approaching. She had given him an educated guess about who they were based on the time they entered, a rather loud woman currently engulfing copious amounts of alcohol, and a guy who looked a bit too young to legally be here sticking close to her. The woman was probably the Servant, she certainly seemed to be more intimidating and, if the loud shouting was a hint, seemed to still be rather sound of mind. If she wasn’t a Servant, then there was a secret to alcohol consumption that Adam would have to get from her at a later date.

Two Masters, one Servant… probably, anyway. The mark on his shoulder told him A master was in the vicinity, and he certainly acted the part. It was possible he was simply a Magus who worked for the Master he had detected… Although it seemed like a stretch, still, it was possible.

‘All this mystery and suspense… This is getting really good.’

"Mind if I join?"

Adam knew the man was coming, the increasing burning sensation in his shoulder saw to that. Still, he didn’t turn to the new arrival until they spoke. ‘Certainly, so long as this isn’t the point where the new guy thrashes everyone.’ Adam grinned wider, although it was hard to tell. Blue eyes met with blue, it was a one-sided love at first sight. Someone to entertain Adam! ‘Victory is mine!’

A few people left the table. ’totally because they know I’m right.’ Adam nodded inwardly. Of course there were a few possibilities of why they left, perhaps they had noticed him come out of the door further into the bar, where the professionals were playing. Perhaps they were intimidated by the man, he was certainly tall and muscular, and probably could beat anyone at this table in a fight if provoked.

Or perhaps they were simply cutting their losses; Adam hadn’t really payed attention to how many chips they had. If they had left with a profit, it was a meagre one.

Whatever it was, the numbers at the table had dwindled. The two Masters weren’t alone, there were two other guys at the table, perhaps not coincidentally one of them was the one who had just taken a chunk of Adam’s chips for his own.

‘Well, hopefully we’ll get some others to join in,’ he spoke in a sing-song manner, ‘before the newcomer effect strikes!’

The remaining people at the table turned away from him, lips twitching.

’Well Rider, something’s gonna happen soon. Looks like a Master wants to say hello. What do you think he’ll do? Come on, place a bet! Simply attack me? Sneak some poison into my drink? Say that I should just give up now? A friendly chat? An alliance? A proposal? Bet on something fun, cause Lady Luck sure seems to love you.’

[Anne Bonny]

It didn't take too long for Anne to clean out the rest of the blokes on the table, or for the next round of victims to present themselves, each group tetchier than the last, it seemed. Anne shrugged, grinned, took it all in stride. It'd make sense to envy her - she may as well have had all the luck in the world.

Yes. Definitely an improvement from the bar.

Her master's wry observation was another step the right direction. Look how well they were getting to know each other already! He knew about her spectacular gambling skills, and she knew all about that little crossdressing hobby he had on the side. Among other things. Spinning a chip on the table, then catching it with her index finger, she wondered how she was meant to react to his little bet.

Noticed, have ya?

A bad hand, she realized suddenly. Well not, bad, per say, but two pairs weren't very good odds considering how well her luck had been going.

Well, Master, I'd hate ta say it, but Imma'fraid Lady Luck does have 'er little moods.

Still, that wasn't to say it didn't mean that the others had an even worse hand. Indeed, that was often the case with those little flunks.

Wouldn't wanna jinx it now, do we?

She eyed the boisterous redhead currently gorging herself on whatever swill the bar was serving her while setting the cards down, only afterwards cursing under her breath when she found she had missed out on the highest hand. She clucked her tongue, let go of what was in the pot without any further complaint.

Hey, you win some, you lose some, right?

Besides, she had a feeling she had bigger fish to fry.

Well, do try to get along with him, darls, because you see that fine lady sitting over there? Think she's a bit more company for lil 'ol us.

She leaned back, set her boots on the table, swiping her next hand from the table. Four of a kind, queens, and a Jack. She smiled broadly, but that could've meant anything. Really, poker faces were overrated. She offered the rest of the table only a cursory glance (some overconfident feller in the back trying to hard to keep his hand from showing, another with not enough reaction to gauge, and a third that seemed disappointed), before flicking her attention back to her Master, and that girl at the table.

Oh, sure, Anne didn't budge from her seat, quite comfortable at the gambling table, but it would've been a lie to say that she wasn't looking forward to the inevitable confrontation - maybe even scuffle - that would ensue.

She wondered if Assassin was hovering somewhere too. Probably. She set down her hand. Grinned; scooped up the entire pot as her winnings.

Oooh, this was going to be fun.

[Shiki Hiiragi]

Shiki took Berserker’s message to heart, but he didn’t let his appearance betray the thoughts that ran through his head. Well, wasn’t this swell? Shiki gets a message from Berserker telling him that there might be an enemy, and she still gets drunk! Well, he already met another Master-Servant pair, and they seemed…amiable enough. Perhaps this next confrontation will turn out to be a pleasant meeting?

Nah, Lady Luck ain’t that kind. It’s good thing happen once, bad things happen twice, and cycle and cycle. Well, at least, that’s how Shiki’s life has been so far.

Well, he’s still alive, even if the number of bad things double that of the number of good things.

Shiki watched as an older brown-haired man walked over to on a new table, and greeted a black-haired man, who replied in return. Well, as they both sat down, the table itself cleared, until it was left with the only four people. The black-haired man, the older brown-haired man, and two other fodder who don’t deserve any other special introduction outside of this sentence.

Well, Shiki was sitting here, being a sore thumb. He never played poker, and the closest he has ever gotten to gambling was being the target of a bet. People do love to bet money between two opponents as they duke it out. It can be easy cash, as long as the fighter who the gambler places confidence on actually wins the fight.

Still, despite that, and being underage, Shiki stood up and walked over to the gambling table with the black-haired man and brown-haired man. It was a hunch, really. One of the two might be the Master of the Servant Berserker detected. Of course, Berserker was too busy getting wasted to point out who the Servant was…maybe the Servant was one of the two men?

You never know. But hey, Shiki is tossing his life into the gambling pool here. Greet the Master, clear the table, hopefully have another good discussion like in the case with Jordan. Or get killed in the process.

Still, Servants would have the sense of not killing a kid in a public place…right…?

Thinking on it now, a kid wasn’t even supposed to be here. Saying a kid was here, and got murdered, would really kill the business. The owner might try to cover it up…

Well, shit, this really was a gamble. Lady Luck, shine your bright light on this poor little boy.

Taking a seat, Shiki nodded to the brown-haired man and the black-haired man. Those two, who blend in better than Shiki does, still strikes Shiki as being…different. To the very slightest. A little too confident and alert, when compared to everyone else. If he was wrong…well, it doesn’t hurt to meet other people in this city, even if they weren’t Masters or Servants.

And in regards to the other two gamblers on the table…

Shiki glared at them, and then made a fist, with his thumb sticking out, and made a gesture indicating that he wanted those two men to leave. They might laugh at a kid telling them to leave the table, but the scars on Shiki’s knuckles can be rather indicative of a lot of fighting…or at least a life of being dunked in the ocean of danger everyday.

Seeing those knuckles can be quite frightening. And to be honest, if they tried to come near Shiki, or attack him, well, this kid was confident that he could break their noses, break their jaws, and break their wrists, all the while slamming their broken form onto the table, and then whacking them several times with the remains of the table, and this chair. This chair. This chair. This chair. This chair. This chair. This chair. This chair. This chair. This chair. This chair…

Wait, out of battle mode. Return to it when they decide not to take the kid seriously and attack.

Oh, and flash a smile! Because smiles with that sort of gesture, with that sort of appearance, can be a little frightening too!

Berserker, if you can still comprehend this message, be sure to point out the Servant you detected earlier. And then let me know, and keep your defense up to whoever it is. If, you know, getting wasted allows you to do that.

[Ilya Muromets]

The main priorities of those who live for alcohol are to simply drink and breathe. Taking care of a little kid wasn't on that list of priorities. The servant acknowledged her Master's question only with a "Hmph" and set her bottle of booze down to focus on the servant. Ilya still had enough mental cognition to identify her. Ilya pushed a few drunks away from her as she vaguely gestured to the servant sitting at the gambling tables.

“Kid. That's her over theeere.”

Ilya looked on with hazy eyes as The Servant handled her cards. She seemed to be dominating the table. Ilya quickly looked down at the table to make sure her supply of alcohol had been untouched. Then continued to survey the surroundings. The Servant's master should be somewhere in the bar. Ilya wasn't exactly sure where but she assumed close by. It would be rather dimwitted for a Master to go off without their Servant during the war.

Ilya cursed that she wasn't able to identify the mysterious Master. It was like everything spiritual was over-powered by the smell of alcohol and Ilya's lust for it.

“Since there's a Servant here it seems pretty obvious there's a Master as well. We can try and be peaceful if you want. Make up your mind quickly though I don't want to be to drunk if we're negotiating. Nothing ever good comes of drunk negotiations, except if the other party is drunk as well.”

Able to hold her liquor a tad better than the average person though Ilya would probably drink the bar dry before she got dangerously drunk. Which is rather tempting but her Master was in danger. Even if the Master and Servant didn't attack him there was a risk the rowdy crowd in the bar would. Ilya really didn't like this bar. It was a bit to new and no one was boasting about heroic exploits. It made her feel uneasy (and secretly kind of old.)

[William Debaere]

Will do, Assassin.

William looked at the other people at the table, those two were blocking him from having any meaningful chat with his fellow Master. Well, he certainly wasn't going to have that. Bill wanted information out of this guy and the other Mas...

Speak of the devil, the kid with the silver hair had just walked up to their table. Apparently, he had the same idea in mind, as he jerked his thumb in a motion indicating the other men should leave. Bill noticed the roughness of the kids knuckles, clearly he'd been in a few scrapes, but there was also a reason Bill kept thinking of him as "the kid". was he even old enough to drink? The gambler seemed to be thinking the same thing, as they stood up with the clear intention to write a formal invitation for the kid to leave, with eloquent diction spelled out all over his face.

Bill considered letting them do it, then decided against it, the kid was more valuable un-busted, and if the servant came to his aid...well, glancing at the redhead again she seemed like a pretty angry drunk.

"Oi." He caught the attention of the two gamblers before violence ensued.

He began to layer prana into his voice, thickening his suggestion into a fairly potent one. On his own honor he never used it to win at poker, but this kind of situation called for the mundanes to evacuate before either a punch was thrown or the kid said something stupid.

"Throwing a punch at a kid would be a waste of time and energy. By the looks of things, you've both won plenty already, so hows about you get back home."

With hardly a thought to the contrary, the men packed up to leave, Bill pulled out another chair for the kid without a word, then turned to the first Master.

"Sorry I had to send 'em off before you could win your money back." He smiled casually. "But now we can get straight to business."

He began dealing cards to each of them before speaking up again.

"Couldn't help but notice you both brought your servants. Well, you can take it as a measure of good faith and know I'm on the level, because I left mine at home."

If things went south, and Assassin needed to reveal herself...well then negotiations had failed anyway.

"So how did you two get mixed up in all of this? Because frankly, it was out of nowhere for me."

[Adam Wells]

”Well, Master, I'd hate ta say it, but Imma'fraid Lady Luck does have 'er little moods. Wouldn't wanna jinx it now, do we?”

’I suppose not, then the outcome would be too predictable.’ lifting his arms up, Adam kept a smile plastered on his face as he stretched, a slight groan escaping his lips.

”Well, do try to get along with him, darls, because you see that fine lady sitting over there? Think she's a bit more company for lil 'ol us.”

A mental figure pointed Adam’s face into a specific direction and, sure enough, the loud redhead was the detected Servant. Hells yeah, he was on a roll.

’The more the merrier. Hopefully we’ll have a couple more arriving by the end of the hour.’

Turning back to the table, Adam found himself looking at the young guy. The second master? His command seal couldn’t confirm it with the other one right next to him, but it seemed very likely. ’Two out of two, I’m on fire!’

He seemed to have agitated the two non-Masters at the table. Adam reclined further into his seat, arms back as he watched the tension build.

"Oi." Shattered by the other Master. Adam tilted his head slightly to look at the man. Surprising that he didn’t want the fun of seeing another Master get into a brawl.

”Throwing a punch at a kid would be a waste of time and energy. By the looks of things, you've both won plenty already, so hows about you get back home.” Every word he said was laced with prana, making one far more likely to do whatever they said. Not particularly powerful, even a non-magus could have resisted it. But in this case, it was supported by the man’s physique.

In any case, the men wordlessly left, although they did shoot a glower back at them, including him for some reason. Why? What did he do? Adam was mildly offended.

Sorry I had to send 'em off before you could win your money back. Well, it wasn’t the apology Adam was looking for, but it would suffice ”But now we can get straight to business.”

Business? Aww, that was no fun. What about the witty banter? Looks like Adam may have to supply it.

”Couldn't help but notice you both brought your servants. Well, you can take it as a measure of good faith and know I'm on the level, because I left mine at home.”

‘Should have brought them, always nice to have an extra face to talk to.’ He still suspected they might have an Assassin with them, but it didn’t seem fun or beneficial to say that. He had outgrown such humour like trying to catch someone being a liar.

…Well, most of the time. He had to do it occasionally, of course. Had to make sure he had still outgrown it. One never knows if they might grow back into something.

So how did you two get mixed up in all of this? Because frankly, it was out of nowhere for me.

Alright! Finally the chance to inject some LIFE into this conversation.

‘Yo dawg, dig what I’m saying, capiche?’ Standing up would have made it too easy, so Adam tried adding movement while sitting, primarily waving his arm about in a slow rhythm, snapping his fingers to the irregular beat. He didn't say it too loudly, since that might draw attention to the kid near him, but he made sure the others at the table could hear him loud and clear.

‘I was just chillin’ out in the city o’ Lucca.
Got nothin’ on me but a bottle o’ Sambuca
all of a sudden I got a glow on mah shouldah
Yeah, believe it I’m a command seal holdah
It was cool, it was grand, cause I’m simply amazin’
It’ll be rad, no matter who the heck I’m facin’
This war’s asunder, and me, the thundah
Will make this game a bloody wondah!’

With the final word Adam slammed a fist onto the table. lifting his hand from the table and shaking it slightly, he added more casually. ‘Or, if you want it all vanilla, the war picked me to be in it, and I’m just along for the ride.’

[Shiki Hiiragi]

As Hiiragi listened to the brown-haired man “persuade” the men to leave the table, Shiki coughed ever so slightly, a little annoyed that he was simply a kid who could not be trusted to take care of his own opponents should the situation arise. However, it was nothing to get angry about, and he simply gazed coolly at the retreating backs of the two nameless humans who he will never get to know, before returning his attention to the pair of Masters sitting on the table with him.

…And the brown-haired Master simply stated that he entered this war out of the blue, with no prior warning, a lot like a certain silver-haired kid sitting at the same table. Of course, Shiki kept his mouth shut, and turned his attention to the black-haired Master, who spoke in a dialect that made the boy cringe slightly. Was he truly an American, because speaking like that was a little…off?

…And he started rapping, to boot. The man’s fingers were snapping in the beat, and although Shiki generally liked music, the lyrics and the singing was a little off for his taste, very much like the dialect the man spoke in…

Although, Shiki reluctantly admitted to himself that the lyrics were rather colorful and the man’s ability to keep beat to his music for a rhythmic consistency were top notch. Just fix up the style, and then slap a label from a record company who wants to take a classic rapper, and the black-haired Master could score rich in the hip-hop world.

After the master finished with a more proper explanation for his reasoning for being a Master…well, Shiki figured all three of them had similar reasons to be in this war: for almost no reason at all outside of destiny coming in some form or the other to drag the Holy Grail War into their lives.

Leaning back on his chair, Shiki held his left arm out in a sort of shrug, and spoke in a sheepish tone.

“I’m the same as both of you. A twist of fate brought me, and now I’m here without having received any prior indication before I was already a participant in this war.”

[William Debaere]

William laughed heartily after the other Master finished his impromptu rap, a smile on his face. Who was this guy? Seriously, the war picked out the weirdest. That was the odd part though, both of these Masters were in the war by complete chance, neither of them had decided to join, or put any effort into it, bizarre really.
...Or they were both lying, just like he was. Damn, he wished he could tell, and he doubted Assassin had a skill that let her do something like that.

"Hell of a weird system..." He said, passively.

"I mean, what kind of war has almost half the participants utterly clueless...there are only seven of these Masters, right? What are the odds of three-sevenths of them showing up to the same bar; the booze isn't that good!" He added with a laugh.

"Though it doesn't seem like your servants mind...especially the redhead. She's gonna put this place out of business, then where am I gonna play cards?"

He was tempted to ask more, but didn't want to overplay his hand. If it looked like he was trying to weasel out information about them, then things could get ugly fast.

He let his eyes slide to the other servants.

Are there any male servants in this war?

He couldn't tell anything from either of them, class-wise. All he knew is that the one at the tables was clearing house, and the red one liked to drink. Was she Russian? Irish?

Bill couldn't tell, and he wondered how much information, if any, Assassin could get from observation alone. Interaction is what he'd need.

"As terrified as I am to take any of them on at cards, why not let the ladies in on the game?" He asked, trying to keep his face and tone as innocent as possible.

[Adam Wells]

Hell of a weird system... I mean, what kind of war has almost half the participants utterly clueless...there are only seven of these Masters, right? What are the odds of three-sevenths of them showing up to the same bar; the booze isn't that good! the Servantless Master laughed, the question wasn’t directed at anyone, but hey, if you don’t want it answered, don’t ask. ’now, how to say it, what accent fits the scenario…’

Luckily for the sanity of everyone at the table, the man kept talking, before concluding with ’As terrified as I am to take any of them on at cards, why not let the ladies in on the game’

Ladies? So he had managed to determine who their Servants were already? Either he was really good, or he had an invisible friend helping him…

Or… OR! Maybe the entire bar was under his payroll, or under freaky mind control, so it just came down to picking out who didn’t belong.

Damn, that would be creepy awesome; Adam could imagine all of those men pausing, staring at him with glassy eyes, and then… attack!

It was kind of disappointing that didn’t happen. Adam sighed out loud to the thought in his head. No, more likely the man here had an Assassin or a Caster watching this merry shindig. Assassin seemed more likely, since they would be able to do something rather than just watching the happenings like a good sitcom.

‘I’m happy to do that, and while we’re being BFFs, let me lay some fresh info on ya. I’ve heard, from a reliable source.’ The reliable source being himself, seeing another Rider Servant. ‘That there may be more partygoers in this merry battle. We’re talking double ups from all the classes! Maybe more!’ Possibly an exaggeration, but hey, if there were two Riders, why not two of the rest? ‘That’s right! We could have two sneaky buggers watching us right now, and the best part is neither of them would know the other is there!’ Adam laughed, his head back on the chair as if it were the most outrageously funny joke ever.

’looks like we could both use some lessons on being inconspicuous. Well, may as well come on down and sit with us, Rider. May as well cheerfully meet some of the competition. Considering this other Servant is in a bar, I imagine she’ll be a little less prude then that other guy. You can exchange drinking songs!’

'Seriously though, would you believe that my Servant, for all their powerful gambling skills, wouldn't take a bet on what was happening here? I would have owed her big time too, certainly my thought on what was going to happen was wrong...'

So far anyway, neither of the Masters seemed like they were bending on one knee and handing him a ring, at any rate. A poisoned ring, poisoned with love and cyanide... or whatever deadly poison was nice this season.

[Anne Bonny]

Will-do, Master. Although,, ah, one little thing I need to take care of first.

“Now if you’d excuse me, gentlemen,” she smiled grandly, “I think it’s high time I get my hands on the loot now, ain’t it?”

It didn’t take long for what amounted to pretty much a suitcase of banknotes to find their way into Anne’s possessions, and though somewhat sceptical of this new currency that seemed far less intuitive than gold and silver denominations, wealth was wealth. It was a pity that her Master’d called her away – there was little doubt remaining in her mind that she’d have been able to clear the entire joint without breaking a sweat.

Although…

“Well, ‘hoy there boy-os,” she sidled up right next to – not her master – but the dashing looking gentlemen with the curious facial hair, flashing a toothy grin,“ flattered you’d invite me – really.”

A brief glance to the side, regarding the boisterous redhead with a perchance for drink and merriment to see if she’d be coming along too, and then back to grinning at that fine specimen of man she had chosen to seat herself in close proximity to. Just because they were enemies didn’t mean she couldn’t have a bit of fun, right?

She was sure her master wouldn’t mind.

Too much.

A slight pause, drumming fingers on wood, a show of looking nonchalant, and then a slow, creeping grin that was quick to assert itself over her features.

Oh, they probably had some dreary old spiel to go on about the grail war and code and who-goes-where-when-how. She wasn’t expecting Mr Tall Dark and Kitten-beard to be anywhere near as forthcoming as she was, if at all, but what was life without mixing things up a bit?

“Well, don’t you look like a fellow who knows his way around below-decks,” she leaned her face on her cheek, “ mmm? I was thinkin’ since you were so nice to invite here, don’t suppose you could give me a little tour? Or maybe I you?”

A wink, and then, not to forget the poor boy looking hilariously lost.

“And, of course, that invitation ain’t open to just any old hand, but I s’pose it can be extended to you too, kiddo,” oh, and of course she had forgotten somebody, “that is to say, if my ‘ol Master approves, of course.”

[Shiki Hiiragi]

Shiki only tilted to his head to the side, and quietly regarded the woman who had sat next to the older brunette man. The look he gave her sized her up, and a couple of thoughts ran through his head. The woman was the rapping dark brunette man’s Servant, based on her words and all, and the type of behavior she gave off pretty much implied that she wasn’t the type of person who grew up and lived her life in a castle, going off to war as the commander, bringing glory to her people on the battlefield. Rather, she appeared to be the type of Servant that lived a life with the benefit of having freedom in how she behaved…or perhaps it was not freedom, but desperation that drove her to develop some behavior?

Nonetheless, Shiki nodded to acknowledge her words, a quick nod with a respectful response tied with it. It wouldn’t do to disrespect someone else’s invitation for anything, and depending on the circumstances, Shiki Hiiragi wouldn’t mind taking her up on her offer. Of course, that is if her Master was fine with it as well, like the Servant said.

Hey, Berserker, come join us at the table. I doubt you’re actually drunk, you could probably hold more liquor that everyone in this bar combined. That said, come over here, and you’re going to sit here and play the role of the ever-vigilant Servant, like you usually do. I’m going to need your presence, and probably buff about how our partnership is handled to see different reactions. It’s rather important that I do so, I need to properly judge these guys. That’s the plan, at least…

Going back to what the other people said, yes, if it was three out of seven people meeting in a bar like this, it would be…random, too random to even be a coincidence. Also, the dark-brunette Master mentioned “two Riders”. That indicates two things: His Servant was most likely to be that of the Rider class, lest the Master would’ve mentioned that particular class, let alone say such information with conviction. Second, there might be other Servants Hiiragi and Berserker will have to deal with...no, it’s not might, it’s probably true.

Learning how people behave and picking up small things because of street fighting has never worked so well for social conventions.

[William Debaere]

Two riders? That statement had just thrown this table, and the war, for a loop. If there were two riders, then he was right in that chances are there were at least two of each class, which meant another assassin lurking in the shadows, and six other competitors to deal with had become at least thirteen. He had no way to confirm the odd guy's servant was a Rider, but he'd bet money on it. The other one was an enigma, and as far as he could tell, none of them knew his own was hiding in the rafters above. Bill started dealing cards to each of them. If he knew anything about servants, then he was likely going to start bleeding money, best to keep the bets low and the conversation going.

"Now that changes a lot doesn't it? Two Riders? I hope you're not just pulling my leg so we run off to chase phantoms." the guy was strange, sure, but Bill didn't take him for much of a liar. " Of course, if you are right, it means things just got mighty interesting for all of us. Might be best if we knew where all of us stood..."

The cards were dealt and he took his hand, but his eyes passed over each of them. "Simply put, a little pact of non-aggression and mutual gathering of information until we have a headcount. I don't see much of a point having the three of us chasing each others' tails only for some Servant no one saw coming to take us out like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
"Now I have no illusions that all of us are out to win, but that doesn't mean we can't play smart and play nice for a little bit. We might have eleven other people out there out for our blood, and I doubt all of them are as stable as the fine people at this table." He eyed each of them in turn.

"So what do you think?"

[Adam Wells]

“that is to say, if my ‘ol Master approves, of course.”

‘Oh, you know me dear Servant. So long as everyone else is happy.’ Adam chuckled. That’s his Servant alright, always there to help break the ice, or possibly melt it.

Unfortunately, the reactions she got weren’t particularly active. The younger boy was quite the gentleman in his response, and the gambling man seemed more interested in the information he had just given. Damn, maybe he should have saved that for later.

As Adam listened to the Servantless Master's response, he eyed the cards he was dealt, his expression unchanged from that perpetual grin. Two and a five of clubs. Not exactly stellar. Were the cards trying to tell him something? This was a bad idea? Or that considering the hand he was dealt, he should jump at this chance? Or maybe the cards weren’t telling him anything, he hadn’t passed symbolism with flying colours.

‘“Pact of non-aggression and mutual gathering of information”? Can’t we just call it a good old fashion temporary alliance? Rolls off the tongue a bit better.’ Putting his cards face-down on the table, he put his hands behind his head and stretched. ‘I must say, I do love the sound of us going all three… sorry, six amigos. War ain’t as fun if you don’t have friends to share it with. I think you’re speaking some good and proper sense, if a bit too… oh, what’s the word?’ Glancing up at the ceiling, Adam lifted a hand and began counting. ‘Posh, overly-elaborate, politically correct. Pick a word, any word.’

He looked back at Servantless Master, arms outstretched in a wide, empty embrace. ‘Be casual, we’re friends man.’ He turned to look at the rather quiet young man. ‘Say what you need to loud and proud!’ His large smile shrunk slightly. ‘Seriously, your silence brings me down.’