Lighting Up [/fin]

[Percival Heath]

[]Day One, 1:23 AM or some equally retarded timeframe like that

also this is Con. fear him []

Con Fitzroy sighed as he pushed his unkempt, greasy hair out of his eyes. He briefly glanced around the warehouse. In the dark of the night broken only by the stars and the moon shining through the windows, the innocuous and haphazardly stacked crates strewn across the massive, empty building cast long, threatening shadows. But he wasn't afraid. Not one bit. Not of his apparent solitude, nor of the darkness.

His life had only known solitude, as the family heir was coddled from birth, patiently raised in the ways of magi.

When no one would teach him magecraft, he spent many starless nights studying ancient tomes. By his own will and effort, he had learned the ways of magi. It was all silent and secret. In any other society, in any other culture, Con would have been lauded for his own drive and ambition. But in the realm of magi? His own family would probably have him killed in order to prevent any succession crises.

Con clenched a fist. This was why he had escaped at the first opportunity... to prove himself. He knew from whispers behind locked doors that there was going to be a storm coming to Lucca. No mere storm... a war. A war for the Holy Grail. He did not know the specifics, but he knew, or at least, assumed this much.

A war would be waged, the victor deified.

But honestly? Now that he had set up a base, Con realized something simple, something glaringly obvious. He was free. He no longer had to keep up appearances. In a word or three, he was unfettered.

Con started humming a little tune. He had no idea why he just thought of that at that particular moment, but he had to admit... it was liberating. Very liberating. Already, he was discarding his previous thoughts. He did not have to prove himself to anyone. He was already a Master in all but name. He had the will. He had the catalyst. He didn't need to win this for his family.

He would win this war for himself.

A shifting shadow snapped him out of his reverie. He blinked, glancing over his shoulder. A lean form paused midstride as its eyes met Con's. The hunched over figure slowly turned towards the magus, unblinking, yellow eyes still focused on Con. The magus folded his arms disapprovingly.

"Banzai, enough patrolling. Actually... get Ed and Shenzi here, too."

The one called Banzai blinked once, before nodding slowly. it beckoned at thin air. Immediately, two more forms appeared out of the darkness. Green and red joined the yellow, as three lean and lanky familiars leaped out of their resting places, softly landing before their master. Each being stood a full head above the human, despite hunching over him. Now that Con could properly see them up close, he had to admire his handiwork, shoddy as it was. Each of his familiars was made from straw and branches. Their faces were little more than burlap sacks with three slits slashed across them. Certainly not the best materials to work with in terms of crafting familiars... but he was short on time and money. It was hard enough to find any sort of dead. As a result, his familiars weren't... exactly all there.

"Yes, Master?" Banzai spoke in a low, gravelly voice, mouthslit flapping.

"You know why we're here, right?"

If a scarecrow could look confused, then Banzai certainly expressed such an emotion on its otherwise-blank face. "...To win this war. To prove yourself."

Con waved a condescending hand. "No. No, not anymore. Things've changed now."

Banzai cocked its head to the side. "...How."

Con Fitzroy only smirked. Holding up his hands, he strode forward, the smirk still adorning his face.

"I know that your powers of retention
are as wet as a mortal's backside..."

This time, Banzai did blink. Its bemusement was somehow etched in the fabric of its face.

Con cast an irritated glance at the scarecrow familiar, but, without breaking stride, continued.

"...But thick as you are, PAY ATTENTION!"

He suddenly snarled, steps growing shorter, abrupt.

"My words are a matter of PRIDE.
It's clear from your vacant expressions
The lights are not all on upstairs
But we're talking lords and successions
Even you can't be caught unawares
So prepare for a chance of a lifetime
Be prepared for sensational news
A shining new era
Is tiptoeing nearer!"

This time, even Ed and Shenzi were staring at their master, mouthslits slightly agape. Had he gone mad? However, the latter mustered the courage to step forward, venturing, "And where do we feature?"

Con shook his head as he patted Shenzi with a consoling hand.

"Just listen to teacher
I know it sounds sordid
But you'll be rewarded
When at last I am given my dues
And injustice deliciously squared
Be prepared!"

Banzai blinked. Again. His master needed to explain himself. "Be prepared?"

Con coughed. "For the death of the family's lord."

"What for?"

"So that I will be the lord, the king, the leader! Stand by me, and I'll see you rewarded."

There was no question about that. For all of his master's... eccentricities (Ninety percent of them being acquired five minutes ago), Banzai knew only a ferocious devotion to the man who gave him life, who guided him. He was about to nod curtly, when both Shenzi and Ed apparently gained Con's newfound mirth. They began whooping and cheering.

"It'sgreat that we'll soon be connected
With a king who'll be all-time adored!"

Con nodded approvingly as he began meandering around the warehouse again, followed by his familiars. Spreading his arms widely, he chucked lowly, continuing his monologue.

"Of course, quid pro quo, you're expected
To take certain duties on board."

He began to smile serenely, turning back to his servants, who continued bridging the distance between them and their master.

"The future is littered with prizes
And though I'm the main addressee
The point that I must emphasize is..."

Suddenly, his eyes flashed open, as he lunged forward. The scarecrow familiars instinctively flinched back, not out of the fear of physical harm to themselves, but to preserve Con's dignity.

"YOU WON'T GET A SNIFF WITHOUT ME!" The magus snarled furiously, breathing heavily, shoulders heaving. He stood there, possessed by the mood, even as his familiars stood back, cowering in the man's presence.

Taking two calming sighs, Con adjusted his suit, shaking his head. He smiled faintly. "Sorry about that. But the thing is..."

Idly running a hand through his hair, he resumed.

"So prepare for the coup of the century
Be prepared for the murkiest scam
Meticulous planning
Tenacity spanning
Decades of denial
Is simply why I'll
Be king undisputed
Respected, saluted
And seen for the wonder I am!"

He turned back to his familiars, briefly motioning with a hand.

"Yes, my teeth and ambitions are bared,
Be prepared!"

And his familiars joined in, singing in unison, too caught up in the moment to question it.

"Yes, our teeth and ambitions are bared
Be prepaaaaaaaared!"



As Con finished, he stopped in place, arms thrown up, face down, still sweating.

For a brief moment, the warehouse stood in silence. Then Con Fitzroy coughed, adjusting his suit.

"So. Ed. Go prepare a mortal. I will begin the summoning."

As the scarecrow nodded in assent and suddenly began skittering across the floor, disappearing from sight."

The would-be Master opened a box, revealing an ancient leather clothing. Con Fitzroy was not entirely sure what it was supposed to be, but he knew what he wanted. The culture of the new world was largely ignored by the old magi, but not to him. Having exhausted his family's library, he knew the most obscure legends, of Quetzalcoatl and Wendigos...

But he was more interested in the tales of a skinwalker. Something that could almost be called a demon, it was a twisted mockery of a man, befouled by the dark arts that it practiced... but still a man. Still a dark being.

And the perfect Caster.

This clothing, if that American was to be believed, would facilitate that summoning. Carefully setting the folded jacket in the middle of a summoning circle, Con stepped back, closing his eyes. This... this would require absolute focus. This would require every single drop of prana that he had to spare.

But it would be well worth it.

Blanking his mind of all extraneous thoughts, he prepared the summoning.

He began chanting, the lyrical tones of his previous monologue replaced with a cacophonous, snarling voice. This was the bestial fury of a man who wanted nothing more than victory.

"Ye first, O silver, O iron
O stone of the foundation, O Archduke of the Contract
Hear me in the name of our great teacher, the Archmagus Schweinorg
Let the descending winds be as a WALL
Let the gates in all directions be SHUT, rising above the CROWN, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve!
Shut... Shut... Shut... Shut... Shut... "

His voice rising to a low roar, Con continued.

"Five PERFECTIONS for each repetition!
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!"

Then he suddenly grew subdued.
"Set.
Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade.
If thou submittest to the call of the Holy Grail and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond.
I make my oath here.
I am that person who is to become the virtue of all Heavens.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades."

His voice rose once more, taking on both desperation and hope. "Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words, come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance...!"

He opened his eyes as the summoning resolved itself...

[Calamity Jane]

A pulling feeling. Perhaps that was the best way to describe it, a startling yank on the soul, as a miracle drew her soul back to where she had lived once. Gave it a new body. Formed flesh, bone, blood, and metal.

But most importantly, gave life to a dream. Her dream.

And it was beautiful. The world was there, all its wonders waiting for her to return. Finally, finally she would. She would see it all, there were just a few inconsequential details to take care of first. And with that small realization, that there was a war she was in, her body took its concrete form between one moment and the next, displacing air with a gentle breeze.

She took form smiling. The place itself was new, somewhere she had never seen, although it was similar to many. Buildings were like that; give her the open air any day. They had barely even changed since she was alive. Still, a little interesting.

The man in front of her had a look of horror on his face. His jaw looked about to drop, had he expected something else? She took a step forward and… almost slipped on something on the ground.

A… jacket? My jacket!?

Something that had accompanied her, gathered dust and dirt from across America. And this man had seen fit to provide it. Within two seconds she already had it over her dress, although it looked a little out of place. It was ragged, dirty, and had her footprint on it. In comparison, her own clothes looked as if they had been stitched yesterday. Not that she minded in the slightest, this was an old friend, any woman could afford a moment of embarrassment in greeting someone she had not seen in so long… how long? Over a hundred years.

And besides, it felt kind of good to have the worn in jacket back on her shoulders, and would have preferred it over a hundred of the things she was currently clothed in.

“Ahaha! That’s amazing this survived so long! I thought some rogue had stolen it in my sleep, you know. Never in my dreams did I think to see it again, especially…” Well she had never really imagined a life after death, especially something like this. The Throne of Heroes and all that. “…especially in a situation like this. Although I never really expected a situation like this anyways.”

“Either way, thanks!” He was still in shock. Really, breaking the ice did not seem to be working here. I guess I should introduce myself or something, right?

She pulled out both her guns to reinforce the next point she was going to make. They weren’t pointed at her Master, if he really was, but instead straight out right and left, with her finger’s balancing them from behind her trigger. Not that they needed to be pointed at her target, but it wasn’t like he knew that. “I’m Archer, and I guess I gotta ask; are you my Master?” He didn’t look that bad; at least maybe he wouldn’t once he closed that mouth. It was kind of rude, and if she was a little tipsier, she might have pointed the guns at him.

That probably would have snapped him out of his shock at the very least.

Oh that reminds me. She tapped at a pouch on the left side of her somewhat angled leather belt, while still holding her gun. Empty, of course.

“And, any chance you guys still have cigarettes in this day and age?” The information she had received had not been helpful at all on that point. If they weren’t… well she wasn’t sure what she would do. That would be like getting rid of alcohol. No one would do that.

[Percival Heath]

Con blinked. Something must have went wrong. This... this was not what he had imagined. At all. This woman... this Servant was too... upbeat. Too... perky. Too... light. She was not fearsome. She was too obvious. She was Archer.

She was not the Skinwalker that he had desired. She seemed like any normal human. She did not bear herself with the regal air of a practiced and true warrior, or a venerable magician, but with the horribly offensive stance of a mere mortal. Something must have gone wrong.

She did not even seem that powerful. His familiars were not hanging back with some practiced wariness and respect out of her supposed massive prana capacity, but slowly edged towards Archer, more curious than afraid.

And fecking guns. Fecking guns, people. Useless, mortal weapons. How recent was this woman?

How could he possibly win the Grail War with a Servant like this?

The worst part was that this... Archer did not seem to care. While Con's dreams and hopes were crashing and shattering around him, this spirit was nattering on about her jacket and cigarettes. It was as if she did not care about the Grail War.

But enough of this. Con loosed a theatrical, lingering sigh. He would have to work with what he got, he supposed. He quickly flicked his wrist and was rewarded by the reassuring presence of his newly earned command seals. He was the Master. Archer would have to see that.

“No, I don't have any cigarettes!” He snarled, a hint of his own anger and resentment seeping into his voice. No, too strong. Con shook his head, trying to clear his disappointment. "So, Archer... hm. Guess you'll have to do. Any Noble Phantasms?"

The Servant clearly caught onto his tone. She creased her brow indignantly, placing her hands on her waist. "There weren't many of those just floating around, you know? But I don't need one, anyways. My skill is more than enough."

No... Noble Phantasms? The fledgeling master would have introduced his face to his hand and given up at the spot, were it not for her vaguely mentioned skill. “What skill is that?” He asked.

“I don't miss,” Archer boasted, spinning her revolvers around a finger. A simple, concise answer. Pity it wasn't enough. This time, Con Fitzroy did massage his temples heavily.

“I would hope that you didn't, Archer.” Con sneered icily. Ignoring Archer's inevitable complaints, he closed his eyes briefly. In that split-second, he learned everything relevant about her – her strengths, her weaknesses...

The darkskinned man sighed for the third time in as many minutes. This woman was hardly the strongest. Nor the fastest. Of the Servant pool, of the Heracleses and Arthurs and Rolands, Con seemed to have drawn the shortest straw. And without a Phantasm of any sort, she definitely did not have any trump cards, either.

But Con had to try. He had to work every advantage he had. His familiars could easily do the recon work, as well as other... illicit activities. They could, in a pinch, provide extra fuel for Archer to do battle.

“It looks like we'll have to improvise, Archer,” Con said curtly. Pitiful as her stats were, he wasn't going to send her out to fight without any preparations. As if on cue, one of his familiars returned, its usual loping gait slightly hampered, as it carelessly dragged a normal human behind it.

Con smiled. In his readings, he had come across an interesting little passage, one about the properties of a mortal's soul. It could be used for many things, from giving consciousness to familiars... or empowering spirits of Archer's caliber.

The familiar hurled the mortal at Archer's feet, where it merely curled up, sobbing, quivering, frightened out of its wits, clearly at the Servant's mercy. “You know what to do, Servant.” Con folded his arms resolutely.

The spirit seemed confused at first, or at least unwilling to act. Almost immediately, Con lost his patience. Perhaps he was having a bad day. Perhaps this was how he normally was. Regardless of his origins and intentions, it did not change what happened next. Vaguely feeling a command seal burn away, the Master snapped, “Consume him!”

[Calamity Jane]

“You know what to do, Servant.”

Her bubbly friendship faded instantly. “Huh, what are you…?” There was a young man on the ground in front of her, brought by one of her Master’s familiars. Surely he didn’t…

No, it had to be a test or something, although he didn’t seem like the kind of person to do that, and were he not her Master, she would have taught him a lesson for being so rude earlier. But still… a teenager perhaps lay broken at her feet. Bruised, battered, bloody. She could tell that he wasn’t even a magus, any enemy at all. Just an innocent caught up in a war that he shouldn’t even know of.

It had to be a test; she was just in the process of leaning over to help the young man up, when a voice broke everything she had hoped this was not.

“Consume him!” Surely he wouldn’t make her- mental pressure seared through her brain. A command seal!? For this!?

Her hand was no longer her own as she forcibly lifted the tearing boy to his feet, and the off them. ”No! Stop… stop this! Don’t, don’t make me do this!” Teeth gritted in fury as she struggled against the compulsion. The boy in front of her had life left to live; he had offended no one. There was no reason for this! She did not even need the meagre amount of prana his forcibly ripped soul would provide.

He would be feeling the same tugging she had felt upon being summoned. Except his soul would not be reproduced for a war, in fact she wasn’t sure if his soul would ever be reproduced. Tears welled in her eyes as she began to separate his soul from him. Tendrils of prana wrapped and tore it free in a single second, consuming it uselessly.

His body broke, shuddering as what propelled it died. The world will remain unseen to his eyes, his feet never gathering dust from a thousand other places! This is his fault!
The corpse needed at least some respect first, however, then… fury swelled within her as she blinked out tears and laid the boy’s body down carefully.

In a flash she tore a gun out of midair and fired directly between the eyes of her vile Master. And it struck him exactly where she had aimed. But she could not kill her Master, the contract prevented it, so he was not her target.

Instead, the familiar that had lead the child to his horrible fate was what she aimed at. The bullet defied what was reality and deflected off her Master’s face and right into the same spot on the familiars, completely destroying its head.

A rush of air gathered behind her as she followed that same bullet to her Master, and the instant it deflect she grabbed his suit jacket and lifted him the same way she had the boy.

”You…you!” That was all she could manage to coherently utter. Fury built as she slammed the gun into the side of his head. And still could not pull the trigger. She could not aim at the disgusting man she held up. The contract prevented her from killing him.

But it did not keep her from harming him. With a contemptuous movement of her hand she hurled him at the corpse of his now ruined work of art familiar. Once again, she pointed one of her guns straight at him.

”If you do anything like that again!” Her voice could have set stones shaking in fear at this point. “Not even the contract will save you!” Even if it was an empty threat, at that point she would try endlessly.

If he does it again? I would kill him now if I could! She had torn life from an innocent. Worse, she had removed his soul from existance. No rebirth. For no reason other than a command. A command coming from those blood red seals.

The jacket felt like lead weight on her back. Never while she wore it had she done such a thing, and even it seemed to be disgusted with the deed, reviling her.

She could do nothing now though, so her primary goal was to keep him from having her kill herself, or rush to suicide. There had been times in her life where she had taken orders from men she hated, and this time she would take any opportunity to be rid of the command. But for now… she could at least pretend to not be endlessly trying to kill him, even if she was.

“So, do you understand?” The voice that issued from her mouth was cold, emotionless, but her knuckles were white on her clenched fists.

This was a man who did not deserve to live.

[Percival Heath]

The familiar scarcely had the time to register the ringing gunshot when its head exploded in a feathery haze of straw and ragged cloth. Without a focus, as the prana flow became irreversibly disrupted, the straw man collapsed in a dusty heap, now nothing more than an ornament.

At the same moment, Con exhaled in surprise as 'his' Servant forcibly lifted him off his feet, holding him in the air with one hand. He thrashed and flailed uselessly, attempting to extricate himself from her grasp. She couldn't kill me... not unless she wanted to die too... right?

The magus scarcely had the time to choke out that single thought when Archer slammed the butt of one of her revolvers against his head. His consciousness exploded in a hail of stars, and he faintly felt the world spin around him, and a rush of wind hurtled past him as he was hurled into the familiar's remains.

As his furious Servant advanced upon him, weapon aimed squarely between his eyes, Con scrabbled away from her. The Servant was saying something, but the Master was not listening, overcome by a mix of rage and fear. Effortlessly, despite her small stature, she had destroyed one of his familiars with a single shot, and hurled him as if he was little more than a rag doll.

“Stop that!” He exclaimed, a mixture of fear and shame flushing his face. He was the Master here, not her! She had to understand that! With these two words, another seal burned itself away, imposing his will upon Archer.

----

Percival groaned. The first thing he noticed was that it was dark. It was also cold. And he had a pounding headache. What did I do... Rubbing his forehead, he lay back on the cold, concrete floor, content to recover from his headache at a proper pace.

Wait, damp concrete...? Percy bolted upright, dispelling the light pounding with a series of heavy thwacks to the cranium. How did he get there?

Right... he was investigating or something. Since that incident with that – bone lion thing that was made of BONE, he felt like he had to go see what was going down in Lucca. For his troubles, some shadow man sneaked up on him, gassed his face, and... he woke up, he supposed.

But enough exposition. Percy stumbled to his feet, casually patting down his overly-elaborate longcoat. Feeling for the familiar, metallic gun in his shoulder holster. Still there. His abductors didn't do a very good job at searching him, then. Phone?

Yeah. Still there. For a brief moment, Percy was tempted to place a call. But then a few things ran through his mind. He didn't know where they were. Furthermore, he wasn't sure that this was normal... certainly not if they were connected to that lion from earlier on.

Percy looked to the right. Bars. Metal bars. He smirked, took two steps, chanting a mantra. He felt that familiar surge of confidence rushing through him, divine providence empowering his movements. Resting his hands on the bars, he gripped them, steadying his breathing. He slowly pulled on the bars, hearing the slow, grinding sound of the container resisting the change.

Then, with a single yell and exertion, Percy tore the bars cleanly off of the container. Slowly letting the thing drop to the concrete ground, the man glanced around. There were more people. Two other containers with at least a dozen people, each. What was going on here?

As much as he didn't like it, he'd have to ignore them. He'd have to get to the bottom of this first... Unholstering his gun, he chanted another mantra. As he finished it, the world around him slowed, and suddenly seemed

a

bit

sharper

Breaking into a short and stealthy, he meandered through the boxes, casting wild glances in the shadows.

----

One of the familiars suddenly glanced at the ceiling, tilting its head to the side quizzically. “Be right back,” it said curtly, suddenly bounding onto a large container, a shifting shadow melding into the dim light.

Con blinked. Turning to Banzai, he gestured at the fleeting figure. The other familiar seemed tense as well. “Intruder.”

The Master instinctively backed away, casting his gaze wildly. He heard two, ringing booms echoing across the warehouse, then a brief round of silence, followed by one final thundering bark.

What kind of magus would have managed to track him down....

Then a single man, eyes wild with delirium, emerged from the columns of metal boxes, breath ragged. He was clearly not in the most stable of conditions. He trembled, apparently unable to control his fear. Con choked back a snort. Not a magus. Just a man, then. Seemed that he was affected by the scarecrow's stimulants, a noxious gas capable of instilling fear in the bravest of men...

Banzai snarled gutturally, moving to intercept the man. However, the familiar seemed to underestimate the foe. He moved faster than any normal human. As the scarecrow made to swipe the other's head off with a single, raking gesture, the foe ducked with near superhuman speed, dashing forward, bringing a boot down on a knee, causing the brittle material to split. As Banzai toppled, the mortal, without breaking stride, brought his weapon to bear, firing twice, causing the familiar's head to explode in straw and fabric.

And with that, the vengeful mortal continued dashing towards the magus, already raising his weapon, aiming, all in the span of half of a second. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe it was just the fear gas. But he certainly didn't seem merciful.

Con backed away, casting a fearful glance at Archer, who merely stood there, a smug smirk adorning her features. “S-stop him!” He barked.

Archer's only response was a small, cold smile.

S-she wouldn't... No, she can't. I have one more seal! A surge of confidence breaking through, Con barked again, this time, feeling a seal burn itself out. “Shoot him!”

[Calamity Jane]

A command seal burnt into her again. Even more uselessly than the last, but she much prefered the use of this one. She had already been done harming him when he forced her to stop against her will. It did wash out her pure fury though. It was replaced by her wondering just how much of an idiot her Master was.

“Intruder.”

She made no motion to move, not that it mattered since he sent one of his odd familiars to do the job. Not that she would need to move.

Her eyes blinked, and then opened again, seeing the world entirely differently. Where there once were walls, there were only bent spaces. She saw around any obstruction. All obstructions. It was if her mind were seeing multiple images overlaid from hundreds of angles, and carefully composited together to reveal no obstructions. Yet, the obstruction was still… evident. She could not see it, but yet she still could.

It would be incredibly hard for her to ever explain to someone who could not ‘see’ like she could. It was like explaining colour to a blind man. Well one that had been blind from birth, at least.

A young man was stumbling around. Affected by some gassing agent from one of the straw familiars. And yet still…

He moved with smooth, precise motions, crushing one of the familiars easily. She was about to ready her guns, this man was her Master no matter how despicable after all. Huh, he has a gun. Might be useful to pick up after he is stopped. She was not like others summoned, she could not bring bullets into this world freely, she had to obtain her own.

Then, she saw his arm move, exposing a bruise patterned like a ring. No… a command seal!?

A Master. With no Servant. Here?

[/i]

Opportunity only knocked once, and she could just wait and see what happened. He even had a gun, which would be enormously helpful. She actually would have helped the disoriented man, had she been able to even think of attacking her Master. The thought of it though… the command seal still pressed solidly in her mind, and brought pain with just picturing it.

“S-stop him!” Her Master yelled frantically. Huh, she was pretty sure he had told her to stop~ She would just listen to his first order for now. All she did was give a slight smile and a tilt of her head at the man who had given such conflicting orders.

The next order that came was one she did not expect. Not did not expect, she guessed, but the force behind it was what was unexpected.

“Shoot him!” This one had the full force of a command seal behind it, and her body was powerless to resist. Some other being was operating her hands by remote control, at least it seemed.

Her guns were drawn from the holster, but she managed to convince herself that she only needed one, and the other fell lightly to the floor. He had only asked for one shot.

The other gun raised in a flash however, and beaded directly on the confused boy’s head. Not that it was required. Not that he even asked for me to shoot him in the head!

It was a bare instant that she managed to pull her hand, to change her will of where the bullet should end. The seal pressed the trigger, but the path was still fixed in her mind. The bullet burrowed into the boy’s upper arm, there was no doubt, there had been no doubt before the trigger was pulled.

Logic and the normal rules of reality did not control where the bullet went. Her will did. She wanted the bullet to slam into his shoulder with the smallest amount of force she could manage under the compulsion from the seal. It was still near deadly, any bullet was, and she could barely move it from a fatal strike, but it was enough for now.

And it did. With that, the burden on her lifted, but so did the contract with her old Master. “Well. That solves that.” Her face was smiling as she pointed a gun back at her no-longer Master.

“A life for a life perhaps, Master?” She was smiling once again, and ignoring the fallen magus. It was unlikely he would get back up. And she was still unsure what to do with him. Death was a fitting punishment however. But… it seemed too weak. She wanted him to know what he had forced her to do, how dark a deed he had commanded.

Still her finger tightened against the trigger. Just a hair more and I… Rage burnt in her once again. She wanted to fire. Needed to fire. She would fire.
[/justify]

[Percival Heath]

Suddenly, a chill shuddered its way up Con's spine. He quickly went through his math again. One, then two... but... His suspicions were horribly confirmed as Archer slowly turned on him, raising her weapon against him. "A life for a life perhaps, Master?" She had said coldly.

Con slowly backed away. He was alone with his Servant, who had apparently turned on him. He slowly raised his hands in a submissive gesture. "N-now then..." he whispered. "You can't shoot me... No masters or magi around... you'd die."

----

Suddenly, pain. As Percy was dashing towards the two apparent perpetrators of... whatever, the woman casually raised her gun - seriously, that thing seemed positively ancient - and barely looking at him, fired. He tried to roll out of the way, to dodge, but the bullet struck true, smashing into his shoulder, causing him to crash to the ground.

It hurt. But he wasn't down. As the two ringleaders turned on each other for whatever reason, Percy slowly forced himself to his feet. Still, their attention was reserved only for each other, never mind the slowly recovering man with a gun. He pushed the pain out of his mind for the time being, ignoring the bleeding, and slowly raised his one good arm. The divine feeling still flowed through it, strengthening and stabilizing the otherwise very-shaky arm.

He sighted down the weapon. Perhaps he was just having a bad night, what with getting bashed around by a BONE LION, gassed and kidnapped, gassed some more, and shot. Perhaps he was just frightened out of his wits.

Regardless, he was not in the mood for mercy.

Two shots.

The man clasped at his chest, dumbfolded. His eyes were wild, unknowing, denying this horrible turn of events. As much as he willed it, though, he could not escape the undeniable reality of his death. He fell limply against a stack of crates, his pitiful dream ended as it began.

As the woman turned to Percy, he already had the gun trained on her. "D-don't get any closer! Stay back!" He shouted, for all the good his threat could have been. Despite everything, he could not bring himself to shoot. "I'll... I'll have to call the police, let them deal with you!" With his numbed arm, he fumbled around in his pocket, feeling for his phone, slowly bringing it out.

[Calamity Jane]

Her finger tightened on the trigger. Just a hair more!

Two shots rang out, and she almost looked at her own weapon, even though she could see the man clearly, his trigger finger clicking clearly. Twice.

The Master, she had never learned his name, took two clear bullets to the chest. Surprise. Shock. Fear. Disbelief. All those rolled across his face in the few seconds he retained consciousness before permanently losing it.

She turned towards the man who had fired, not even watching the dead man fall to the ground. The sound was almost muffled, but it echoed a few times.

Did he deserve it? She wasn’t really sure anymore. It was a war, however, and you killed those who were your enemies in war. It was just that simple. But he wasn’t really an enemy.

Her train of thought was broken by the man who had fired at her old Master. “D-don't get any closer! Stay back!" He was shouting, fumbling around with his damaged arm. She took a careful step towards him. "I'll... I'll have to call the police, let them deal with you!"

The police. He would call a sheriff on her? Well, he seemed to be misunderstanding who had killed who. His gun was kept level at her with a shaky arm, and his other bleeding one reached into his coat.

“Sorry~” He looked kind of surprised at that, as well as her genuine smile. She was apologizing in advance for what she was about to do.

Walking towards him she continued smiling. If he pulled the trigger she would actually move faster, but right now there was no need to do too much. However the boy was hysterical, and there was only one cure for that.

He was pressing buttons frantically on the thing he had pulled out of his pocket and she simply swatted that out of his hand and sent it spinning across the floor. What was that anyways?

“That’s not something you should be doing now, you are supposed to keep this stuff a secret.” He looked confused, and she took that opportunity to disarm him as well.

Well here was coming the part she was going to be a little bit sorry for. He was still hysterical, and she had always known a good cure for hysteria. The sound of a well-placed slap echoed through the warehouse, and her bare hand left behind a red mark on his face. “Hopefully that will calm you down.” That was more addressed at herself, muttered rather than spoken. “I see you have seals. Want to be my Master?” There was a smile on her face, but not much of a choice in her tone.

-----

Percy staggered from the force of the slap. To his credit, though, he quickly refocused on her, surprise and fear flushing his face. Was she honestly asking to... work with him? After SHOOTING him? "G-get back," he snarled, apparently glossing over the bit with Masters and Seals. "I-I'm warning you..." He muttered, almost half-heartedly.

-----

Jane sighed. Of course he wasn’t going to accept the first time. Well, she had planned for that. And apologized for it. With no hesitation she slammed the butt of her pistol into the side of his head. Not with all the strength she could muster, not even a true fraction of it, she still wanted him conscious after all.

He could be quiet later. Right now she needed him to talk.

“Next time just agree with the girl, and you won’t have to be hit again~” She lifted his chin so he could meet her eyes, keeping this potential Master’s head in her grip. Thankfully now, since he was on the ground, she didn’t have to look up at him. It set a bad precedent, doing that. “ Now let’s try this again; Are you willing to be my Master?” The last bit was punctuated by Jane raising her gun again. She was not above threats, especially when they got tedious things like this out of the way.

-----

Again, he fell. Another time, he might have been willing to humour the lady, but now? Frightened, lost, and getting beaten down by some stranger? Being difficult was practically a must. "Get off of me..." he mumbled.

-----

Really, really, really getting annoying! She could blame it on his altered mental state right now, but this wasn’t good for their partnership. He was supposed to listen to her!
Oh well~

The gun slammed into his head again. And for good measure she shook his rolling eyed head back towards her own eyes. This hit was a little bit harder. They would progressively get harder, but she really hoped this would be the last one.

Not that Calamity minded hitting him in the head.

She would ask him again. And again, and again until he accepted or he was unconscious. Then she would wake him up and start all over again. “Ok. Just agree with me this time and the pain will stop here.” Huh, a lie. Oh well, he could take it, and she just really needed to get this out of the way. It was possible for her to act without a Master for a while, but it was disadvantageous. “So, before I start pounding you into the ground again just say yes. Will you just be my Master?”

-----

Master...? This time, Percy heard the word through a bleary haze of fear, exhaustion, and pain. Rather than to confirm or to deny, however, he only mumbled out a "Wait, what?"

-----

…

“Well I tried to be nice! This is going nowhere!” She was frustrated, that much was evident.

Still, she could give him another chance, but first…

The butt of the gun slammed into his head. Again.

However this time it was much harder than intended. His eyes rolled and his weight went slack. “Whoops” The eyes in his head were rolled back as she inspected them, and then let his body drop.

While she waited she might as well learn more about him. From his stuff. She picked up his gun first, Well maintained,

[/i] and then the thing she had swatted from his hand. It was confusingly black now, where before it had been lit up. That was slipped into her leather vest’s pocket.

His gun also went into her belt.

Then she began rummaging through his pockets. A lighter, a wallet with some money she assumed, and most importantly: Cigarettes. He had a pack.

Almost immediately she flipped one out. It had been a while… but she had no time to actually enjoy it. Still more things to check out, more things she could do while waiting. She stuck the pack, and his wallet in her small rosy pouch.

Kicking him in the ribs first to make sure he wasn’t pretending to still be out, she resumed searching through his clothes and pockets.

Considering she could see right through them, as well as seeing what was inside, it was a quickly finished thing. A couple coins, and one bullet were all that had been left from her previous looting.

“Still sleeping? Good” Well then she could at least retrieve the bullet from his arm. She had done that a few times, albeit on corpses mostly. There was no guarantee they made the same ammunition anymore, she was glad to see guns still around at least, though. “Huh, if you were awake I’d be telling you about the time I retrieved the same bullet from men thirty times. Thirty times!

Carefully digging her slender fingers into the surprisingly large wound, her fingernails managed to grasp onto the bullet and slowly lead it out.

“Huh. Should you be bleeding that much?” Her hands were already completely soaked in blood, and her question was rewarded with a sudden gout of angry blood.

“That is definitely bleeding more than before!” Instantly she was to her feet, and frantically ripped the damaged, bloody shirt off her old Master and rushed back to her new one. It would serve as a bandage, if it was wound tightly enough at least.

It was also useful to wipe the blood off her hands.

Great, now she had to take him to a doctor. Hopefully there would be one nearby. And just to make sure he wouldn’t get up while she was… transporting him, she hit hammered his head with the stock of her pistol. Again.

Then his head started to bleed. Excellent. Just excellent. Even her thoughts seemed in a dry wit as she considered possibly losing two Masters in the space of an hour.

Hoisting him onto her shoulders and running out the nearby door, she began to talk to his unresponsive, bleeding body. “By the way? All this is your fault.”

The door burst open before her shoulder… no wait she had just rammed it with her Master… There wasn’t even time for her to sigh as she took to the streets.

He was bleeding out right now; hitting him was nowhere near as fun!

“Also if we don’t find a doctor, it’s your fault!” The constant bumping was probably not helping his condition either.
[/justify]