Meanwhile, in the ruins of On Patrol

[The Ripper]

The building still rumbled with the shock of the odd entourage's exodus. The massive hole that Bedwyr had torn on his way to his master's aid was a gaping tunnel at the end of which the dim light of the street could be seen. Drywall and plaster littered the floor and rubble was scattered about in the aftermath of the skirmish. A dark pool of Amaranta's blood gathered beneath the window.

The Doctor mused as he waited. Bedwyr he knew well, and his master. The arrival of the Saber had been unexpected but Bedwyr's deference left very little up to the twisted physician's ample powers of induction. Who, of every noble spirit, of every hero throughout the ages, would have the instant, blind, unwavering, slavish devotion of Bedwyr of Camelot? Or any of the Knights of the Round? Only one. How interesting. And as an added bonus the Saber's appearance seemed to have driven a wedge between Amaranta and her Servant. To whom did Bedwyr's loyalty lie? Not with the bleeding child that he had carried away on his altered vehicle. Ah, delicious confusion sown in the ranks of his enemies.

Soon confusion, twisted loyalties, and broken promises would reign. Emma would be miserable. Bedwyr would despair. Miliardo was in pain. Matthew was without purpose or self. And what better balm was there for the bitter cup that was Existence than misery and despair? The Doctor simply wallowed in the ill portents that seemed to gather about the broken room. And speaking of misery...

The Doctor circled once more, his presence hidden by the shadows. The fourth member of the small skirmish was still in the room, his head bowed as if in thought. The lone Master. The idiot. He who ventured out without backup, without a Servant, without a hope of making a difference. But still he struggled. How foolish.

Oh well. As much as he would have liked to toy with the lad further he hadn't the time. The fight had been taxing and he needed to replenish his prana. And the defenseless Magus seemed as ready a source as any.

Like a creeping frost Jack let his fear aura permeate the room, slowly at first, but building up to a paroxysm of terror. Then from the shadows he launched his attack, unerring in it's accuracy, un blockable and utterly unavoidable.

Oh joyous was the night.

[Matthew Walker]

Matt watched Bedwyr's disappearing tail lights with a worried frown crinkling his brow. The attack of the invisible Servant, the appearance of the mysterious Saber, the impending collapse of the building, they all paled to insignificance next to his gut eating worry for Emma's well being. Any other time he would have complete confidence in Bedwyr's ability to care for her. But now...

Who was that servant? And what hold did she have over Bedwyr? Matt wondered. If Bedwyr somehow ignores Emma, if he lets her come to harm on account of that Saber, I'll find him and I'll...

But Matt realized he had no right to berate Bedwyr even in his own mind. He had failed. Not the servant. If he had been faster. If he had located Miliardo in time. If he knew enough about his powers or mage craft or magic he could have saved her from her injury. Bedwyr didn't fail her. I failed her. I should really stop doing that to women that rely on me. He thought, hating himself for his weakness. Maybe I should have gone with them. To make sure she is alright.

But no. Matt remembered why he had chosen to stay. He had told the others that he would hunt Miliardo. But that wasn't strictly true. Jack was still lurking around. And Matt couldn't risk him trying to finish off his Master's kill while Bedwyr was on the move. Matt didn't know if he had a chance one on one against a Servant. But if he didn't stand his ground the murderous Assassin would be free to pursue his friends. And that wasn't something that Matt was going to stand for.

As if on cue the hair on the back of his neck began to rise. He's here.

The sudden wave of fear was clearly artificial. But that didn't make it feel any less real. Any less powerful. Matt gritted his teeth to keep them from chattering. Jack was invisible, somehow, and Matt closed his eyes and Sharpened. He reached out with senses hundreds of times more acute than any human. He could feel the vibrations that his beating heart sent through the floorboards. He could hear the currents of air as they wafted through the ruined building. He could sense the load bearing support beams beginning to splinter and crack. But no sign of the servant. How?! Even if he's invisible I should be able to smell him, hear his heartbeat, sense the motion of the air as he exhales. There's no way that he could-

Matt's thoughts were interrupted as Jack burst from the shadows with a cackle, his gleaming butchers knife angled directly for Matt's heart. There was nothing he could do to dodge but he threw himself backwards anyways, desperate to escape and equally sure that he could not. In the split second between his emergence and his strike Matt Hardened. The blade struck unerringly. But Matt's skin had taken on the harness of concrete by the time it did. Still, the blade sunk into Matt's chest. Not far enough to kill him. But only just.

Matt landed on his back and felt the air whoosh out of his lungs, stabbing pain tearing at his chest. He scrambled backwards as Jack coiled for another spring, the knife running red as it streaked towards his chest. My chest. My chest! The summoning circle!

A sudden blinding flash of realization hit Matt like a mac truck. The summoning circle was still there, just underneath his clothing, it's form not comprised of ink any longer but rather burned into the flesh of his skin. With panic driven speed Matt wrenched his shirt open, baring his bleeding chest to the onslaught of the maniac. Desperately he fumbled for the magics from his father's notebook. Desperately he drew on them. The raised scar tissue began to glow. He fought for the words of the ritual. But all he could manage was a strangled "Help!"

And then, instead of sinking his blade deep into Matt's heart, Jack got a facefull of fury as a tiny figure hurtled from the magus's chest.

[]Hassan, you are goooooooo![]

[Hassan-i-Sabbah the 19th]

If one has been using a certain technique all their life, depended on one thing to cover their tracks, to conceal their deeds, then what would they do when that same factor is turned against them?

The small shadowy figure halts the progress of the attack on the larger shadowy figure by a sharp interception, swatting away the limb that was aimed towards the knife wound of the young man. While one can see both of the shadowy figures’ shapes if they look hard enough despite the dim lighting, the only thing that onlookers will currently notice about the small figure is the only visible mask fixed on the head part of the shadow. The eerie white skull mask strike a contrasting picture with the rest of the body, or perhaps more accurately stated as the current lack of a visible body because of the shadow. The mask betrays nothing about the current feature of the figure behind the mask. All of the openings on the mask, including the eyes, nose and mouth are perfectly black, adding to the impression that one may have been staring on a living shadow all this time.

Succeeding on the first task of fending the attacker momentarily, the small shadowy figure turned its attention momentarily into the injured young man. Trying to discern information about the current condition of its apparent summoner, the skull mask briefly, almost too fast to notice, glanced towards the sitting Matt. It was just a split second glance, but the information gained within that split second was processed within the shadow’s thought. Immediately after the information’s gained, the mind starts its thought process, though no one will notice it from the outside because the skull mask’s staring towards the front unmoving, perfectly still. Unbeknownst to the other figures on the room, the figure behind the skull mask continue to analyze the surrounding on its peripheral vision, all the while without moving a single muscle beneath the neck.

All of a sudden, within a single precise movement, the small figure darts to pick up the sitting young man in a swift motion. Careful not to re-injure the wound on his chest, the small figure carried the young man on its shoulder with one hand while darting out of the vicinity with blinding speed. After a split second change of scenery, the two of them arrived in another room in the same building. This room, in comparison to the previous one, is much better illuminated and shadows are largely contained within a section of the room, except the two figures’ own shadows.

Carefully putting down Matt in a sitting position leaning on a nearby wall, the small shadowy figure quickly examines the knife and the wound made from it on the young man’s chest. The wound itself is not a deep one, but if the knife’s pulled without a proper caution, the wound might worsen. After examining it briefly, the shadowy figure decided that it’s best to pull the stuck knife as to not giving the opposing shadow an opportunity to worsen the wound.

“Don’t move.” After the brief command was uttered, a black-clad hand extends from the shadow-like cloak of the figure. With a precise and quick motion, the knife had been pulled off from the wound, with no visible damage except the initial wound that the knife made. “…Try to stop the bleeding; you should be fine after the wound’s closed.” The voices betray no emotion, no gender, just a single monotone sound vaguely resembling an instruction. Once the instruction’s complete, the small shadow quickly returns to a ready position, examining the room for signs of the other shadow figure.

Because of the superior illumination of this room, the features of the small figure are better revealed. A black cloak covers the petite frame of the figure, perhaps no bigger than a middle-school student. The only thing that the cloak doesn’t cover is the skull mask, which is still transfixed on the head part of the figure, unmoving.

“I am Assassin…” The figure spoke with the same monotone voice that it showed earlier. “…Orders, Master?”

[The Ripper]

Jack paused and retreated back into the shadows as the tiny figure blocked his attack. He hadn't been in hiding when he had struck which meant that blocking the blow was well within the realm of possibility, especially with the element of surprise on her side. This was interesting data indeed. A clever trick, that, cutting the magic circle into the flesh of one's chest. Something that a regular magus wouldn't even consider. After all, trying to summon a servant on the fly was hardly the tactic of choice for a sane man. Especially when your life hung in the balance. And with no chant, no auto hypnosis, no stored prana. Perhaps the wounded master wasn't as big of a fool as Jack had thought. What hidden resources did he have at his disposal to risk such a move? And was the risk a tactical decision or simple, stupid bravado?

Whichever it was The Doctor was not one to repeat his enemy's mistakes. He wasn't one to act without knowing all the facts. The advent of the Assassin, and the servant was most certainly an Assassin, changed the game. A new piece on the board. Perhaps a single, decisive stroke while they were wounded and disoriented from the summoning would rid him of them both. But The Doctor played the long game. He might prevail now through decisive action. Might. But the twisted physician rarely acted on anything less than a certainty. Still, it would be a pity not to test them a bit, to launch one last probe.

While the new Assassin was spiriting her master into the next chamber the Doctor retreated in the opposite direction. He was no carpenter or architect but he was an educated man and he knew the workings and stresses of physical structures. The building was about to collapse, massive holes punched in it by Servants coming to and fro and knocking down inconvenient walls in the process. Wasteful. Lacking subtlety. Still, it was useful at the moment and the Ripper was not one to eschew a useful course of action just because it was crass. He warped to where Bedwyr had crashed into the building and quickly selected four load bearing studs. With several quick chops from a cleaver that he produced from his massive cloak he hacked them to splinters. There was a groan and a rumbling like an avalanche of timber and masonry as the ceiling began to collapse. The Doctor warped to safety as a massive pile of rubble landed where he had been standing, the destruction radiating outwards as the building began to collapse.

Knives were all well and good but every once in a while it was good for the constitution to drop buildings on one's enemies.

[Matthew Walker]

Matt didn't know what he had expected to happen. "I'll make it up as I go along" was practically his motto. He certainly knew he hadn't expected to summon whoever it was that had just saved his life. He didn't even know how summoning a Servant actually worked. He knew he was glad of her though. He was discovering he didn't much like being stabbed. It wasn't very nice at all. Sort of like being at the back of the barnacle market on egg day. She is the walrus. I can taste key lime pie.

Where am I?

Get a hold of yourself! Matt thought. He tried to Sharpen to give himself a blast of clarity but couldn't. He had been at his limit. Past it, even, when he had done the summoning. Now his head was fuzzy and he couldn't think straight. Something bad had happened to him when he had pushed past his limits. Walker magic wasn't exactly kittens and daises on the central nervous system. Matt didn't think he had been hit in the face but he could feel warm blood dripping from his nose. He got a sudden sickening flashback of his father's last days. Dying of an overdose of Walker magic, wallowing in the symptoms of alzheimers and epilepsy and multiple sclerosis all at the same time, his brain and nervous system fried and his life drained away.

NO!

This is no time to panic. The fight!

"Watch out, he can OOPH!" Matt tried to call out a warning but the slim figure darted backwards to flip him over her shoulder sack-of-potatoes style. She ran with him into the next room before setting him down surprisingly gently. His chest hurt and he was bleeding pretty badly from both the stab wound and the gash from the day before. His senses felt wrapped in cotton. Well, cotton over the pain, because unfortunately nothing was helping that one bit.

"Who are...where are..."

Probing fingers explored the flesh around the knife, pulling back the ragged remains of his clothing. Again they were gentle but sure. Either an expert in pulling knives out of people or at putting them in.

"Don't get blood...on my shirt." Matt managed almost nonsensically. The garment in question was a bloodstained and tattered to rags.

"Don't move." The voice was firm but in a higher register than Matt was expecting. Was she a girl or not? Matt hadn't been sure under the cloak. Don't move... The words brought an unkind moment of clarity to Matt's pain addled brain.

"No no no don't! AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaoooooooooogh." Matt yelled as she yanked the blade out of him.

"That hurt." He added flatly, fighting to keep the agony out of his voice.

“…Try to stop the bleeding; you should be fine after the wound’s closed.” She said in the same businesslike monotone. But it sounded to Matt a lot more like 'Quit being such a baby.'

"Easy for you to say. You didn't just get a massive, ooouurgh, freakin cleaver shoved through ya." Matt groaned back. Still, he clapped a hand to his chest, pressing what was left of his shirt to the wound and trying to stop the leaking blood that dripped down his elbow and onto the floor. She ignored his griping and answered, as always, in her impersonal monotone.

“I am Assassin. Orders, Master?”

"Well first of all you gotta cut that Master stuff out right now. My name's Matt. Second of all..." Matt paused and squinted down the corridor. There was something coming towards them. Something big. No. It was the corridor itself! The rubble looked like a wave as the building collapsed outwards.

"...look out!" Matt hollered hurriedly. With the last of his strength he heaved himself to his feet, the makeshift bandage forgotten, and threw himself into Assassin. He barreled into her roughly, knocking her from her feet and carrying her with him as he crashed through the window just in time. A cloud of dust billowed out behind them as the room they had just been occupying came crashing into a crushing heap.

On the lawn outside Matt had just enough strength to roll off of her. He had bumped his elbow when he landed. That was all he could think about.

"We should...we should go to the hospital." He said lamely. Then he blacked out.

[Hassan-i-Sabbah the 19th]

Behind the skull mask, Assassin blinked once. This man, this master, refused outright the traditional term of Master and insists on being called by his first name. That fact sets off a few words in Assassin’s mind, but mainly the term ‘unorthodox’ or even ‘incompetent’ and ‘underprepared’ were shuffling around in the mind of the shadow. Does this man even want to compete in the war? Does he know how serious this war is? Even an excerpt of a name will be enough of a lead for other masters to find out about his identity, and it would be a problem for everyone around him if that would happen.

Perhaps you should just relax~

Shut up, this is not your turn.

Fiiiine.

However, the next thing Assassin knows was her master rushing towards her, injured body and all. Assassin didn’t move, it would be foolish for her to move out of the way and send her master’s body even more injured, so she decided to act like a cushion for her master’s fall. It’s not like she will be hurt by the fall either, so it would work out fine…except that her master’s currently trying his best to protect her from harm.

Looking on the periphery of her vision, she notices the glass window that they’re heading to and subconsciously let out a sigh. Assassin notices that Matt’s grip is becoming weaker, perhaps a sign that he’s weakening under the influence of his wounds. With a quick movement of her right hand, Assassin escaped Matt’s grip upon her and shields his wounds from the shrapnel from the windows as the two of them are send tumbling down and out of the building. Spreading her body as wide as possible, Assassin tries to minimize the area of impact upon her master’s body, protecting the wound from further harm. Once the impact’s subsided and the cloud of dust above them settles down, she watches as her master’s limp body rolls over to her side and uttered a sigh inside her head. She heard her master’s last words before everything went quiet, but judging from the breathing the man named Matt is still a resident of this world.

…How foolish.

He thinks fast and quick on his feet, I like him~

…I’m not surprised.

Springing up with one quick motion, Assassin is once again on her two feet, watching the surroundings. The room that she and her master were in is now in shambles. In fact, the whole building is now in ruins, as if someone had removed one of the supporting pillars and is currently watching the building topples over with glee.

Perhaps someone like that other shadow…

Who was he anyway? I thought the cut of the class is that they’re only one of us each?

An irregular…the Grail didn’t tell us anything…

Want me to take control? I’m better at handling people than you, you know.

I think I’ll manage for now…I’ll call you when that time comes.

Assassin took another glance at her master; he’s badly injured, with wounds opening from all over his body. The most severe one is perhaps the wound on his upper chest, but upon further inspection it seems that he had re-injured the wounds that had been there before the recent injury. The bandages on his chest that had been there and concealing the wounds made before the recent scuffle tells the entire necessary story. With a quiet shrug, Assassin once again heaved the body of Matt onto her right shoulder. She receives the information about the building called hospital from the Grail, though she’s still skeptical about letting her master end up on a public building like a hospital, it’s still the best course of action right now.

With a huge leap, Assassin and Matt disappear to the night’s shadow, away from sight.

[Matthew Walker]

When Matt woke up his first thought was that he was in heaven, and that heaven was comprised of styrofoam-white plastics and the chemical smell of disinfectants. Also, heaven must have a TV and that TV must currently be playing an old episode of ER since he could hear the iconic Beep, Beep, Beep of the heart monitor thingy that was so ubiquitous in medical shows.

Oh, crap. Matt thought through the haze of painkillers that were currently flooding his body. If I can hear the beeping it means I'm about to die and the beeps will turn into that awful flatline sound just to make it seem more dramatic. Bummer.

Matt waited. But the steady rhythm of the EKG machine continued to mete out the unbroken tempo of his heart. It didn't speed up, it didn't suddenly stop, no chiseled but tortured doctor declared "I'm calling time of death." with all the agonized soap opera drama he could muster. After a time Matt tried to sit up.

It turns out that was a bad idea. A stabbing pain shot through his chest and it felt like something was on the verge of tearing. He let himself fall back with a groan.

"Uuuurrrrgh. Oooph. Ow."

Since sitting up wasn't an option Matt searched around with his eyes to try and garner some clue about his whereabouts. Turns out his initial assumption wasn't that far off. He wasn't in heaven, not by a long shot, but he was in a hospital. He could see the top half of the curtain that ran the perimeter of his narrow, uncomfortable bed as well as bleach white walls and a dizzying array of knobs, dials, and meters all certifying that he was still alive. Alerted by his groans a nurse in blue scrubs that had been doing something with his IV tsked and leaned over him. She was wearing too much perfume and said something in rapid fire Italian that Matt didn't understand at all. He told her so as best as he could, his words broken and his grammar far from correct. She continued to babble, probably to herself, as she turned and bustled out.

She returned perhaps a minute later with a harried looking doctor in a lab coat and thick spectacles. Matt didn't know if it was because he was Matt's attending or if she had gotten him because he spoke English. At any rate when he spoke it was in english with a thick italian accent, altho Matt didn't have any trouble understanding him.

"You are very lucky you made it here. You had many injuries, yes? Very serious. If you had not come when you did you could have died. Very serious." He said hurriedly. "Lie still. We will talk when you are better. We must know who to contact, yes? Friends or family? But rest now. Yes, rest. Do not move or you will hurt yourself further. Ask Flora if you have any questions. You rest now, yes?" His words were clipped, obviously he had more on his mind than a single stupid foreigner who had been in an automobile accident. When he swept out Matt waved the nurse, nurse Flora, away with him and lay back on the cushions. So she had gotten him to a hospital. She...

Matt sat bolt upright with a start. Or rather he got as far as tensing his abdominal and then falling back with another heaved groan. The girl! The servant, he supposed. She must have brought him here. But where was she now?

"Hello? Is anyone there?" He called to the dimly lit room.

[Hassan-i-Sabbah the 19th]

“Yes, yes, nuffin to shoutf about-*gulp*” The sound of munching are heard for the first time in the room, never mind that there was nothing there at that side of the room from Matt’s point of view just a bit earlier. Indeed, there was only an empty chair intended for visitors just a moment ago, but now on the chair sat a girl who looks no older than the students of the nearby school. “Been watching your recovery from yesterday’s incident, must say you recover fast. *munch* *munch*” The girl continues to talk aloud while chewing on something.

“Oh and by the way, I took the liberty to purchase some supplies to alleviate my own hunger, so to speak.” As she spoke, she shows what her right hand had been holding all this time, a plastic-wrapped bread purchased from the cafeteria of this certain hospital’s. “We servants need to refuel our tanks as well, you know. *munch* *munch*” She gobbled and swallowed the piece of bread in her mouth before continuing, “-’Sides, you’re my master, you’re supposed to provide me with all the necessary supplies, think of this as your duty.” As she uttered the last sentence, she waved her right hand nonchalantly.

“Ah, forgot to say, you’re in the ‘intensive care’ unit or somesuch,” she made the two hand gesture when the words intensive care was uttered, “-you’re not supposed to have any visitor at this hour.” She gulped the last of her bread piece and leans on the support part of the chair. “So don’t talk too loud, you don’t want to be moved into the psy…psych-umm, the section for the mentally retarded, do you? Yeah, won’t serve our purpose to see you get stuck that way.” She nods on cue with the last bit of her last statement.

She pause a bit to look at her master’s current condition…or rather, her master’s expression. “…What? Don’t you think that I can’t stay quiet for just one second? I’ll have to tell you that no one noticed me when I was eating in this room earlier.” She puffed her chest a bit after that last statement. “Unless I want to be seen, no one here can notice me,” she makes a circling motion with her right index finger, “they’ll just ignore me and go about with their business. To them, I’m no more significant than a pebble, the difference is yeah; I can talk and greet them if I want to.”

Assassin notices the slightly bewildered face of her master, and decided to continue the explanation, “I am an Assassin, and it’s sort of what we do you know, be sneaky and stuff. You don’t have to worry about me; I can hide faster than you can say ‘fast’.” A finger is now pointed to the direction of the bed, “Now you, on the other hand, won’t be so lucky. Look at what you did at the building, you made your wound worse and now have to be content with lying down and doing nothing until your wound’s healed. You’re not a servant and your wound won’t heal that fast.” She briefly procures a small candy from the pocket of her clothes and tosses it into her mouth. “The clothes are part of your duty as a master, by the way. Don’t sweat it though; it’s not expensive at all.” She said the last part while getting up and displaying her new get up, a t-shirt and medium-length pants.

“Hmmm, what else…oh, the way you’ve been brought to this hospital, yeah, that’s kinda important. Thanks to the service pledge or whatnot, they can’t just leave a bleeding man in the front step of the hospital now, can’t they? Throw some identity recognition from your identification stuff and we’re here.” She stops a bit to munch on the candy before continuing, “Of course, that would leave you open for identification to the other masters, but that’s the risk of staying in a public hospital.”

“Anyway, just relax for now. We don’t want your wounds to worsen again.” She added the last word there with an emphasis on the tone. “For now, just eat a lot and recover your strength or something. Here, catch.” Just as she finishes the last bit, she throws one of the bread to Matt’s side, careful not to hit the injured area.