View Full Version : Fairy Tale

June 12th, 2011, 08:13 PM
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Type-Moon characters or properties expressed in the work of fiction below. They belong to Type-Moon and their creator, Kinko Nasu.

Author’s Notes: This fic is Dead. It is an Ex-fic. It is pushing up daisies and just taking up space on my harddrive. Chances are unlikely that it will continue. This fic is DOA. D-E-A-D. Just there were others who wanted me to repost it.

Also, this fic takes place sort of after Archer’s end in Fate/Unlimited Codes, or a rather similar time line.

Fairy Tale
By: Elf

Archer warned me there would be days like these.

The ground was rushing to meet him at an exponential rate as he was being pulled down faster and faster. At the rate he was falling Emiya Shirou was certain that he would break a good majority of the bones in his body or worse if he did not act quickly. Eyes closing, the redhead fired up his Circuits, the prana flowing through his body as his head pounded intensely for a split heart beat. It felt as if fire was racing through his veins as he forced the energy through his limbs, making flesh, muscle and bone akin to steel. It was easier to push it farther, focusing on his steel reinforced boots to Strengthen them as well.

He twisted sharply, his body moving in a graceful, almost dance like arch to place his legs underneath himself. Legs now braced for impact, the heavy heels of his boots pounded down on slick pavement below. The impact reverberated up his calves and rocked his knees to where he almost stumbled, but soon Shirou was standing to his full height. Hawk like eyes narrowed and looked up at the rooftop he’d just been thrown from as he saw five pairs of eyes widen in shock before going to their semi-automatic rifles.

Knock off AK-47’s. Apparently their boss can’t even afford buying them the real thing, or these are just the expendable guys. From their previous reaction time it will take them five seconds to pull the safeties off and aim at me. Another one second to pull the trigger, giving me six seconds to disarm them.

Shirou’s mind was firing at a rapid fire rate as the image of twin swords, one shimmering white and the other deep ebon etched with a reddish honeycomb pattern, entered his mind. Kansho and Bakuya, the swords that had become the extensions of his left and right arm over the past few years. Swords that he was personally obsessed with to the point where he had dreamed about them as a teenager and the one bit of Tracing that he could do twice as fast as any other sword in his armory and hold the image for consecutive sessions. “Trace. On!” he whispered the familiar chant.

With a snap of prana the exquisite blades were in his hands. He cocked his left arm back and with a cry he slung it up with his still Reinforced arm up to the roof. The gorgeous black blade seemed to cut through the very air as it reached its intended target. There were surprised shouts and curses as Shirou pulled white Bakuya back to change Kansho’s flight path. Kansho cut through heavy gun barrels like a hot knife through butter before spinning back down towards its twin.

Shirou lifted his left hand and felt the heavy, leather wrapped handle hit the palm of his hand before he closed his fingers around it. He then turned his attention to the fire escape leading up to the roof before he was in motion. Heavy boots hit steel rungs as he rushed back to the place he’d just fallen from. Within moments he leapt over the stone sill around the roof and charged at his assailants.

Without their guns it was over in mere heartbeats, the magus moving to incapacitate each one with heavy blows to the face. Taking special care of how his fist hit vulnerable flesh and bone so it wouldn’t shatter soft tissue, Shirou was certain that each thug was still alive just stunned. He stood in the circle of unconscious bodies as his own limbs started to cry out in protest. Fire shot through his nerves sending blazing pain then crippling numbness as his vision blurred. His left arm throbbed and he felt Kansho and Bakuya snap into thousands of golden particles before fading completely. He bent forward, grasping his arm as he shut off his Circuit. His chest rose and fell sharply with each breath as his heart started to slow its rapid beating and the pain started to relax in his limbs.

Sighing, Shirou pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911, prepared to wait a good twenty minutes for the emergency operator to pick up.


Each movement sent a stab of vicious pain through Shirou’s left leg as he gripped the bloody hole with one hand and tried to drag it up with the other. He cursed each step to up to the second floor where his shamefully cheap hotel room was situated and slumped against wall as he crested the top step. Liquid heat soaked his hand with each step forward, but he didn’t want to look down knowing he’d ruined just another pair of jeans and would sport another scar. His main concern was getting back to the hotel room and treating the wound.

After avoid machine gun fire all night, it’s a frightened mother stabbing a pen in my leg that draws blood, he thought with a sigh as he dug his key card from his jacket pocket. Gripping the plastic in his teeth, he managed to turn down the hallway and get to his room. Shirou propped one broad shoulder against the door frame while he fumbled for countless seconds to jam the key in and get it to read. The lights flashed red the first three attempts before glowing a bright, neon green. A loud click signified the door unlocking and Shirou pivoted to push his other shoulder against the door and stagger into the room.

“Damnit,” he cursed aloud through gritted teeth as he fumbled with the light switch and bathing the room in sickly fluorescent light. One glance down at the throbbing leg confirmed Shirou’s fear as did the dark stain spreading from his thigh downward. He drew in a sharp breath as he sank down into the chair in front of the room’s one table and yanked the First Aid kit from on top of it closer.

The heavy boots that were a cross between combat boots and biker boots with steel plated heels and toes were kicked off. Arching back, Shirou unbuttoned and unzipped his thigh to pull his ruined jeans down his legs. All the while he calculated on how to wash the blood stains away from the heavy blue fabric and stitch up the hole, something he’d gotten insanely good at over the years. Sitting in his boxers he pulled off his heavy armored jacket and the half gloves he’d taken to wearing lately to protect his hands but still keep optional functionality. Finally he removed the black T-shirt he was wearing and draped it on the same chair he’d draped the jacket.

Shirou stared at the ragged puncture wound marring the thick cords of muscle that made up his thigh. He braced himself as he pressed his thumb and forefinger between the wound and lightly pressed. Fire and the stabs of thousands of needles shot up from the wound and down his leg and up his spine while the hole drooled more thick crimson. Gritting his teeth he bent forward to inspect the wound more and trying to debate if he needed stitches or not.

He unzipped the rather large bag containing medical supplies not found in most First Aid kits and grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol. The cap was twisted off and the cool liquid was poured over bloodied hands. He grabbed a napkin from the kit and wiped his hands dry and then pulled out a tiny little pick from the bag. Muscles tense he began to poke the wound to see if any remnants of the pen had been embedded into the heavy muscle. He bit down on his lip to keep from cursing again as he dug ever so lightly into the wound, causing more blood to well out and spill down his leg.

Satisfied that there wasn’t any stray bits of writing utensil in his leg, Shirou grabbed a syringe wrapped in sterile wrapping and ripped it open. The plunger was lifted up and he tilted the bottle of alcohol to put the end of the syringe into it. He filled it up full of the solvent, drew it out of the bottle and then proceeded to spray it directly into the wound. The equivalent of acid being jettisoned into the wound caused Shirou to growl in pain and stomp his good foot into the floor to keep from crying out.

He grabbed some sterile gauze and held it under the wound as he repeated the process with the alcohol and the syringe for the next few moments. He deftly dried the hole and applied pressure until the bleeding completely stopped. Once the pressure had done its work the gauze stopping the bleeding was removed and wiped a layer of Neosporin over the wound. He applied another layer of clean gauze over it and tapped it to his skin. He nodded in satisfaction at his handiwork only to see the droplets of crimson staining the carpet and the chair he was currently sitting in.

Shirou glared at the mess and flexed his leg. The medication in the Neosporin was already taking effect as the sharp stabbing pain of the wound was starting to numb. Satisfied, the redhead stood up and headed over to the bit of cleaning supplies he always carried with him when he traveled. Armed with carpet cleaner and a sponge, Shirou began to set to work cleaning his mess.

Halfway through the job a cheerful chime echoed through the room from the heavy depths of his coat. Cursing, Shirou dropped the sponge and carpet cleaner to jump at the phone, knowing that it was mid-morning in Japan and either Ilya or Fuji-nee might be calling him. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket, flipped it open and breathed, “Hello . . .”

“You sound out of breath, Emiya-kun. I only hear that sort of voice after certain activities,” an all too familiar female voice said with a laugh over the other line.

Shirou’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed at the implication as he replied, “Tohsaka?”

“Yes, it’s me Emiya-kun. We found out from Ilya that you’re in . . .” Tohsaka paused and he could hear the expectancy in her tone.

He sighed and answered, “Los Angeles, California.”

“That’s a long way from Fuyuki City, Emiya-kun. What drug you over to the States?” Tohsaka asked.

A voice that was almost a near mirror of his except rougher answered for him, “A magus trying to take over a Triad gang.”

“Archer,” was all Shirou said quietly in greeting, his hand gripping the phone as he gritted his teeth. Even with an ocean and a continent separating them Shirou felt the spark of hatred within him.

Tohsaka asked, “History repeating itself or is this one of those things that you found out about but aren’t telling me?”

There was the soft smack of lips against skin over the line, close enough that meant that Archer either kissed her throat or her ear. The breathy gasp that followed the kiss meant that he probably kissed her on the ear, considering her reaction to it. Then there was a satisfied male chuckle before Tohsaka’s voice went sharp and she said, “Don’t think you could distract me from not finding out. I’m not an invalid you know.”

Shirou said, “I heard about him from Sensei.”

“Then he told Ilya,” Archer said, his voice holding an edge of amusement.

Shirou scowled and he said, “I told her not to tell you.”

“You’re not her only Onii-chan, you know,” Archer said with a dark chuckle that made Shirou stiffen. Not that I need any reminder who you are, Shirou thought at him before taking a deep, calming breath.

Tohsaka said, “Boys, let’s not make this a pissing contest over the phone.”

“Of course not Rin,” Archer said in that voice of his that made Shirou want to punch him.

Shirou gritted his teeth and said, “He started it.”

“He always starts it and you always fall for it. If you didn’t fall for it, he wouldn’t goad you,” Tohsaka said with a sigh.

Another laugh before Archer said, “As always you have a point Rin.”

“Don’t think you can get out of this by sweet talking me,” Tohsaka said.

Shirou’s hand gripped the phone as he felt that tiny pang in his chest as Archer replied, “I’ll get out of this by making you tea.” He closed his eyes as he didn’t want to hear Tohsaka’s response, yet another reminder that he was alone and his partner gone. Even though knew Saber had to leave him and he accepted that, a small, selfish part of him wished for someone at his side. Archer and Tohsaka fit so well together that it was maddening, as if every aspect of one seemed to complement and enhance the other.

They had their spats, but apparently their relationship as lovers thrived on a low level of antagonism. Shirou had found out that Archer kept Tohsaka grounded and she was his savior. And apparently Archer has some sort of masochistic streak where he enjoys being ordered around and scolded by Tohsaka, Shirou thought as Rin replied, “Well, that would be a good start. But, back to Emiya-kun and the magi gangster.”

“Technically I’m a magus gangster, Rin,” Archer said with a chuckle.

Shirou rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Technically me too, Tohsaka, even though I don’t work with Fujimura-dono like I use to.”

“If it had been any other supervisor of my lands they would have killed him for knowing about magic and magecraft,” Tohsaka said with a sigh.

Archer replied, “And we thank your merciful generosity. So, what did Sensei tell you?”

“She just gave me a dossier on this guy Fung Shi-fang that he’s the second born in a Chinese magi family who studied magecraft and martial arts, but wasn’t given the crest. So to gain power he headed off to America,” Shirou answered.

Tohsaka sighed and grumbled, “I can’t believe that both of you call Aozaki Aoko ‘sensei’ . . . The inheritor of the Fifth Magic and she teaches Emiya-kun . . .”

“Why do you think I knew where to buy the Puppet Body at, Rin?” Archer asked sardonically.

Tohsaka retorted, “That Puppet Body you’re going to be working the rest of your second life to pay off.”

Shirou cleared his throat and said, “I’m still here guys.”

“So, did you find Fung?” Tohsaka asked.

He sighed and said, “Not yet, but I think I’m on the right trail. I had five guys dressed in Chinatown colors come after me with guns tonight.”

“Did you get hurt?” Archer asked.

Shirou shook his head and answered, “Not by them. I did get a pen through the leg by a scared mother trying to protect her baby from a mugger.”

Archer sighed and said, “Maybe you should come back to Fuyuki City, see how Sakura’s doing. Or you could go back to London and check on Luvia.”

He could practically hear Tohsaka’s teeth gritting over the phone at Archer’s not so subtle attempts at matchmaking. Even though Shirou knew fully well what happened to that version of Emiya Shirou didn’t mean he wasn’t going to stop believing. The two of them had even dueled over it during the War, Shirou’s conventions being strengthened as Archer regained his lost faith in his self.

However Shirou had fallen in love with his Servant. There was to be no happily ever after there, especially considering what Saber needed for herself. Saber had gotten her peace and Shirou promised her he would keep at his impossible dream, that it wasn’t hopeless. And he had kept his word, and also made sure not to make the same mistakes that Archer had as well.

Still, his bachelor status was apparently enough to cause Archer to worry about Shirou’s future and was at the point to where he had lost all subtlety. Considering that subtlety was one of Archer’s strong points, Shirou wondered how much it was vexing him. After all, he was in his mid-twenties and his hair was still red, his skin still pale and his eyes still golden brown.

Shirou bit the inside of his cheek and said, “Ah, I haven’t heard from Sakura in a while actually . . . And Luvia has better things to do than to be bothered with me.”

And despite how wonderful they were, those two were not Saber, nor would they ever be. Of course, he didn’t voice the thought as Tohsaka asked, “What do you mean you haven’t heard from Sakura?”

“That I haven’t heard from Sakura,” he said with a frown.

Archer said, “You still should get back to Fuyuki, just for Ilya’s sake. She worries about you.”

Shirou gripped the phone and silently gnashed his own teeth. The problem with knowing a future version of yourself is that he knows you all too well and knows what can stop you dead in your tracks. The words “for Ilya’s sake” were more effective at binding Shirou than if Tohsaka had placed a geas on him. He winched as Archer continued to pour more salt into that open wound, “And not to mention Fuji-nee. Ilya’s existence is so fragile, you shouldn’t squander your relationship with her.”

“I’m not squandering my relationship with Ilya, and she’s assured me time and time again that she’ll stay with me,” Shirou replied, “Just so I don’t end up like you.”

Archer replied, “Then be a proper brother to her then, damn it.”

“I am a proper brother to her. You’re not any better, running around with Tohsaka for the Association,” Shirou retorted.

Tohsaka’s voice cut in as she said, “Shi- Archer is my husband, Emiya-kun. Just because you can’t move on because of Saber doesn’t mean you should abandon the rest of your family or friends.”

Shirou didn’t miss the slip up. To Tohsaka he was Emiya or Emiya-kun. Archer was Shirou to her and had been for years, except he had taken her family name as if he had abandoned all of the Old Man’s ideals in the end for her. Archer protected her above all else, Shirou strove to save those who couldn’t save themselves. In doing so he realized he needed to take out those who would restrict others’ happiness.

I’m afraid if I did have someone like Tohsaka at my side I’d abandon my ideal for her, Shirou thought with a shake of his head. It wasn’t the first time he had wondered in the years since the Grail War if he’d fallen in love with Saber because she was so much like him. If he loved her because he knew it was doomed and could keep saving others with her memory and words pushing him forward. Most of the time he could shove the thought away, but it was still there, still lurking and gnawing at him like a hungry parasite.

“I don’t cling to Saber’s memory,” he said in a low voice.

Tohsaka replied, “Then why can’t you let yourself try to be happy with someone else?”

“I haven’t found anyone else that I’ve wanted to be with,” Shirou answered truthfully.

There was another sigh, this one from Archer, as Tohsaka replied, “Isn’t that not letting yourself be happy because she’s gone?”

“If something happened to you, do you think Archer’s going to go chasing after the next girl he meets?” Shirou retorted, gritting his teeth over the phone.

The resounding silence over the other line was answer enough to him. He replied, “I’m exhausted, my hotel room is a mess and I have a lot to do tomorrow. Thank you for the call Tohsaka, and Archer tell Ilya I said hello, send my love, and that I’ll be home soon.”

“Wait, Emiya . . .” Tohsaka said in a protesting tone.

Shirou said, “Good bye Tohsaka.” Then he snapped the phone shut so hard that the sound echoed around the hotel room. The device was glared at for a moment before Shirou collected his cleaning supplies and began to work again to clean his own blood up.

June 12th, 2011, 08:14 PM
Zombie story~

June 12th, 2011, 08:18 PM

Soldat der Trauer
June 12th, 2011, 08:28 PM

June 12th, 2011, 08:41 PM
One of this days you have to finish this fic, Elf.

June 12th, 2011, 08:43 PM
And because people keep asking for that, I can't speak of the ending, since if I do everyone will clamber all over her non-stop. /mope

Soldat der Trauer
June 12th, 2011, 08:43 PM
There's still a bit more left to reach the cut-off point.

June 12th, 2011, 11:17 PM
And I'll get to it, after I have time to format and code all of it for the board.

June 13th, 2011, 05:49 AM
not a bad frist capter!!!! i like it!

June 13th, 2011, 07:11 AM
I have drowned in my hopes and died...

June 13th, 2011, 12:35 PM
I too would like to see this continued.

June 13th, 2011, 12:37 PM

June 13th, 2011, 01:21 PM

You're not beating a dead horse, are you?

June 13th, 2011, 01:28 PM
You're not beating a dead horse, are you?
Why would I hurt a horse? Even a dead one D:

June 13th, 2011, 01:37 PM
Because everyone keeps trying to cast Resurrection on this fic, but they continue to phail. :)

June 13th, 2011, 01:38 PM
We simply disturbed its grave.

June 13th, 2011, 01:39 PM
You're all walking on sacred Indian burial grounds...

*Conjures up Poltergeist*

June 13th, 2011, 02:23 PM
Quick, someone (not me) need to gather diamonds worth of 20000 Gold pieces so we can cast True Resurrection!

June 13th, 2011, 02:32 PM
Yeah, and then... Counterspell. :3

June 13th, 2011, 03:18 PM
...is still my reaction to Rin in this.

June 13th, 2011, 03:20 PM
Sounds fun~

June 13th, 2011, 03:20 PM
...is still my reaction to Rin in this.

...You want an absent Saber to cut her up?

June 13th, 2011, 03:26 PM
No, Koto is so displeased with Rin in this fic.

June 13th, 2011, 03:27 PM
As am I.

June 13th, 2011, 03:46 PM
Heheh, Rin's not important since she' bloated like a beluga whale now. Hurrah for Moon Princess and her new Knight!

June 13th, 2011, 05:07 PM
@Kotonoha I won't go that far, but I would still slap her in the face. Though I would do what doll!Saber did in that picture to Archer XDD

BTW, that thing in doll!Saber's hand... are doll!Rin's panties?

Yeah, and then... Counterspell. :3

Do you really need to counterspell a spell with a cast of over 10 minutes? (30 minutes IIRC) I can think of a few ways to disrupt said spell without using a 9th level spell to counter it.

June 13th, 2011, 05:10 PM
I got a clever way to do it.

Kiss the spellcaster.

June 13th, 2011, 05:35 PM
I got a clever way to do it.

Kiss the spellcaster.
You tease. X3

Altima of the Gates
June 13th, 2011, 06:11 PM
Quick, someone (not me) need to gather diamonds worth of 20000 Gold pieces so we can cast True Resurrection!

Heh. That deserves a brofist, my man.
But even the mightiest cleric cannot defeat this.

June 13th, 2011, 06:24 PM
*brofist altima*

Then should we cast Wish or Miracle?

June 13th, 2011, 06:41 PM
You tease. X3

Who, me? <3

June 13th, 2011, 07:22 PM
Huh. I thought I'd read all of your old stuff, Elf, but I've no memory of this fic. I look forward to seeing where you were going with it, even if it's dead.

June 13th, 2011, 10:15 PM
The Suzuki Katana that looked like it belonged in an 80’s post-apocalyptic movie darted nimbly through traffic, keeping a tail on the sleek black BMW gliding through traffic like a shark through deep water. Shirou leaned forward, gunning the engine and dropping the hammer to keep up without getting too close. Rain pelted him like thousands of icy needles even through his heavy jacket and jeans. The cold snap was unexpected for Los Angeles this time of year, but Shirou preferred it over the stifling heat that had been suffocating the city when he arrived.

However he knew that Fung Shi-fang was sitting in the luxury car being carted to somewhere where he had something planned. There had been prostitutes missing all up and down various parts of the city but no bodies found. It irked Shirou that the police didn’t care enough to find the misguided girls, as if they weren’t good enough for their attention or focus. It wasn’t that too far of a leap to conclude that they might have been taken by the wayward magus to do some sort of ritual.

Twisted bodies like sticks lay before him, blank eyes looking up. Withered lips drew in slow, whistling breaths as dead eyes looked up imploringly at him. Shirou’s breath caught as he stared at the mockery of what was human life before the voice behind him broke him from the horror’s spell.

Teeth gritted at the hellish memory as the bike darted through the traffic at the rider’s urgency. Shirou revved up the engine as the BMW turned onto another street, heading for one of the warehouse districts. He almost laughed at the irony as he followed the sleek car to a fairly large warehouse. It seemed that most “bad guys” adored warehouses to do illicit things. If he visited a city and had no idea what was going on there, it was good odds that he’d find someone at either a warehouse or an abandoned factory trying to do something to hurt others.

Just variations on a theme, he thought as the car finally parked. He spun the motorcycle into an alley, shut of the engine, dropped the kickstand and headed to the roof of the building he was currently at. One quick tug of the fire escape insured him access to the roof where he could survey the warehouse where the BMW just parked in front of. A wet hand pushed up the helmet’s visor so Shirou could reinforce his eyes with prana to see what was taking place below.

An Asian of average height sporting a suit that probably cost more than what his motor cycle was worth stepped out of the car. Shirou recognized the round faced man from the survey photos that Sensei had given him. He took a deep breath and almost gagged at the sickly sweet smell permeating the air, signaling of someone working a heavy spell close by. If he was smart, he’d have a boundary field over the place, Shirou thought before forcing more prana into his legs before taking off into a run. Long, muscular legs pushed up and over, sending Shirou air born until gravity took a hold of him to guide him onto the next rooftop. Within moments he was standing on top of the warehouse where the gangster magus had stepped into, looking down from a skylight on the roof.

Anger spiked up thick and hot within him as his cheeks burned with shame as he looked at the scene below him. His eyes widened at the sight of women and men in various stages of undress lying, straddling or bent over in various stages of abandon as they coupled. The faces from the missing posters of several of the prostitutes were visible on the women below. Writhing bodies in various positions were placed around in a circle where Fung was currently standing as he started to slide out of his suit.

Shirou’s eyes widened at the tattoos sprawling all over Fung’s arms, chest and back as he recognized runes and other magical symbols etched into the man’s skin. Fung was smiling as he drew a knife from the pocket of his slacks that looked like it was made of green jade. A quick gesture brought eight men dressed in black and carrying similar blades to the forefront, positioning themselves around the participants of the mystical orgy. Shirou knew all too well from personal experience how sex could enhance or even take the place of rituals, but he didn’t know what Fung was doing as the jade blades were lifted in unison.

That was the cue to spring into action. Glass shattered at the impact as Shirou fell through the skylight and landed nimbly in the circle in front of Fung. Slanted, ebon eyes widened as the Chinese man pointed the jade blade at him and shouted furiously in Chinese. The men in black sheathed the jade blades on their chests and pulled out combinations of semi-automatics and revolves from holsters at their sides. Shirou glared at the gangster before the image of Kansho and Bakuya entered his mind with crystal clarity. The swords were quickly broken down into their eight component parts and three pairs of the blades were held ready in his mind. “Trace. On.”

Once the yen and yang blades were formed in his hand Shirou was in motion, pouring more prana into his body to help fuel his charge. Gunshots filled the room and the redhead cursed as he used them to deflect the bullets before shattering in his hand. The puncture wound on his left thigh blazed in agonized protest at his movements but he ignored it. He was use to pain and working with and around it. Kansho and Bakuya shattered from the pressure of the gunfire in thousands of gold sparkles before another pair formed in Shirou’s hands to take their place.

His body pivoted in a dance like circle that put him behind one of the gunmen before dropping himself low and dragging Kansho with precision accuracy across the tendons in the man’s ankles. Crimson rivulets sprayed the ground as the man screamed and dropped to the ground, unable to stand. Shirou knew if he got medical treatment soon enough that he’d be able to walk again as he threw Bakuya at the gun currently pointed at him. The glimmering blade diced into the gun before snapping back into his hand. That gunman was screaming as he cradled his wrist, probably broken from the impact of the sword cutting the gun in half.

Shirou spun low to avoid the next volley of bullets from the five remaining gunmen. One of the ones with a rather large revolver fumbled with it as it ran out of its ammunition. He moved past that one to lock eyes with one holding a small submachine gun. Cursing, Shirou launched himself up right as he pivoted against the man’s shoulder to bring his reinforced elbow crashing to the back of the man’s head. As that thug dropped like the proverbial sack of bricks, Kansho went flying with an elegant flick of the wrist right into one of the men holding a revolver. Crying out as blood streamed from the gash in his arm the gun fell to the ground as it shattered in another mist of gold. Bakuya went flying as well, spinning to knock a gun from a man’s hand with enough force to knock its wielder to the side. Once it completed its journey it shattered as well, but the third pair was already in Shirou’s hands.

Hot, blazing agony welled up in Shirou’s left shoulder as he was shot. He cried out as he threw Bakuya at his attacker, Kansho dangling from his injured left arm. The wound was matched and the gunman went to his knees as he pulled the falchion from his arm in a spray of blood. Shirou spun around to the last gunman, passing Kansho to his good hand and threw it to hit the gun straight in the barrel.

All around the magus the orgy was continuing without pause as fluids thicker than sweat dripped down onto the concrete below in the frenzy of flesh. Shirou spun around to see Fung glaring at him as the marks etched in his skin blazed to life to match the jade blade in his hand. “I’ve heard of you,” he said in accented English, “The warrior magus who wanders around championing for the innocent and the downtrodden.”

Shirou flexed his left hand and could find that his arm could move without blazing pain. If the bullet had gone through the bone the limb would have been all but useless. Apparently, he was unusually lucky to have the bullet graze instead of going through his arm. There were still little sparks of pain at the site, but it wasn’t anything that would hinder him. He stared at Fung and projected Kansho and Bakuya into his hands again, gripping the leather bound hilts before readying his body again.

“I’m not going to let you stop me!” the black eyed man screamed, his voice rising above passionate cries.

Shirou narrowed his eyes as he stared at the magus. Logic demanded that he kill him. The Association might want him alive to experiment on him, which wasn’t something Shirou was going to stand behind either. Fung screamed and the tattoos lit up and started to glow even more as he threw his arms to the side as he started to glow more and more. Shirou rushed forward and drew up Kansho and brought it down as he brought Bakuya closer to him before swinging his arm in a swift arc.

The black blade hit the magus directly in the throat while Bakuya passed through the flesh, fat, muscle, organs and bone like butter in the man’s gut. Blood squirted forward in a deep crimson arc as a deep gurgling sound bubbled forth from the ruined wind pipe with the gorgeous sword currently lodged in it. Shirou was breathing hard as those ebon eyes widened as the magus fell to his knees. Bloodied hands gripped Shirou’s forearms right as the prana in the blades snapped in a spray of golden sparks as Fung’s eyes bore into his.

Shirou swallowed, his chest rose and fell with each labored breath and his heart was still pounding rapidly. He stared at Fung until those intense eyes rolled up and the man fell slack. With a hard swallow the gangster magus was lowered to the ground as the orgy still raged on. The crimson pool spread out along the floor until it touched the bare skin of some of the people forming the circle. Shirou’s eyes widened as the darkened marks on Fung’s flesh flared to life once again.

The deep wounds knitted themselves closed and the five injured guards cried out. A sickly, sweet yet burning smell began to fill the room above the musk of sex and the coppery tang of blood. Shirou spun around to see the henchmen started to swell and smolder before crumpling to the ground as their bodies twisted and wretched. Steaming blood and thicker fluids spilled from their open mouths as they convulsed and vomited between screams. On closer inspection their eyes, noses, and ears were bleeding as well.

“No,” Shirou shouted as the impassioned cries became louder and louder, almost drowning out the screams. He ran towards the closest henchman, but eyes turned up and the body fell still in a pool of its own gore. A rancid, rotting stench wafted from the body, but Shirou ignored that and ran to the next guard to see him fall to the same fate as the first, and then the other three.

Behind him a loud, cackling laughter echoed behind him and Shirou spun around to see Fung get up. However the magus’ mouth was full of sharpened teeth and his eyes were blank as his bloodied body rushed towards Shirou. Shoving prana through his limbs, Shirou gracefully leapt away from the mad charge as Fung faced him, his body hunched and his fingers curved. Saliva dripped from Fung’s mouth to dribble on the floor as his aim was suddenly made clear to Shirou.

He was trying to become a Dead Apostle, but I interrupted the ritual and how he’s just a ghoul. Shirou grimaced as he Traced Kansho and Bakuya into his hands once again as he faced down the snarling undead. He tapped the swords together in a slow rhythm, causing the metal to clang melodically. The thing that was once Fung tilted his head curiously as Shirou continued to clash his swords together, keeping one eye on the corpse and the innocents still coupling around them.

If he notices them, it’ll be over, Shirou thought grimly, I really hate ghouls.

The ghoul spun around right as the doors of the warehouse flew open. Shirou spun around to see a man and a woman walk into the warehouse. The man was tall, dressed simply in black slacks and a white dress shirt while the woman was dressed in a three piece gray suit that cost as much as one of the jewels that Luvia or Tohsaka used. “It seems like Fung failed,” the man said with a light chuckle in an odd accent that Shirou had never heard before.

“I think he was stopped,” the woman replied in a light French accent, her crimson eyes focusing on him with a smile. Shirou had to admit she was lovely with short dark green hair cut into a bob that framed her round face, large eyes and sulky, full red lips. Slim hands rested on her rounded hips and her suit did nothing to disguise womanly curves, if anything they were enhanced by it.

The man with the odd accent looked at Shirou with solid black eyes that almost seemed to glow with tiny bits of crimson light. His nostrils flared as he said, “I think we backed the wrong horse, Melanie.” In contrast he had sharp features and long pale hair tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong.

Shirou swallowed right as Fung leapt at him again. The air was knocked right out of Shirou as the concrete met him hard when clawed hands started digging into his armored jacket as cold drool splattered on his face. The twin blades crossed with a sharp clang as they were pushed up to keep the snarling mass from trying to take a bite of its prey. Shirou gritted his teeth as he brought a leg up and kicked with all of his strength right at the creature’s midsection.

Between being pushed up with two strong blades and the fierce kick, the ghoul went tumbling backwards. With a jolt of his muscles Shirou flipped back up to his feet and charged the ghoul. Dull red eyes snapped over right as a new sickly smell filled the room and the orgasmic moans and cries drowned to low, pitiful moans. Shirou turned to see the woman, Melanie, standing with her hands outstretched towards the writhing people who created the circle. Her head was thrown back, the cropped strands brushing against the white collar of her shirt and revealing glittering earrings with stones that where the color of gunmetal but were fastened to reflect the light.

The participants of the orgy were now mostly still, their bodies and faces slack with the occasional twitches and weary moans escaping parted mouths. Once fever bright eyes were now dull and filmy as the sickly sweet smell grew more and more. Melanie’s half-lidded crimson eyes were radiating light as her pale skin seemed to glow like moonlight and her hair started to rise on its own accord. The man with the pitiless eyes watched her with a smile as one couple fell completely to the ground.

The world was bathed in hellish red. The sickly sweet smell almost like rotting honey was thick in his nostrils as a twitching hand reached for him. Shirou swallowed as he spun around to look at his former friend and the silent yet lovely shadow standing behind him.

Fung snarled as his empty, dull eyes fixated on the fallen couple who’s bodies were drawing shallow breaths. The ghoul’s eyes dilated before he sprang towards the easy prey. With a shout, Shirou was in motion with Kansho and Bakuya in his hands. The Reinforcement rippled through his body as he pushed it harder and harder to spin so he was between the ghoul and the couple. Kansho smoothly moved up and gracefully swung to hit its target; the dark blade cleaved through heavy muscle, skin and bone to exit the other side of the ghoul’s neck. A clean, dark line appeared on the thing’s throat that spilled dark ichor before the head tumbled off the former magus’ shoulders to wetly hit the ground. The body fell to its knees and started to shrivel moments later before Shirou started to move towards the two standing behind the human circle.

Everyone who had been a part of that circle were laying on the ground, their chests moving up and down in shallow motions but otherwise they were still. This is no sleeping spell, Shirou thought angrily before Kansho and Bakuya broke to reform once again in his hands. He lifted the blades to charge only to feel something drawing something from him. Energy was pulled from him more and more until the twin blades dissolved into nothingness in his hands. His limbs felt as if they had lead weights attached and he couldn’t move. Numbness was starting to wash over him in what felt like a hundred, tiny pinpricks to leave a sharp chill within him. Each breath was a battle and he felt himself sink to his knees to look up at the beatific smile from the Melanie as she smiled at him.

“How is he?” her male companion asked with a tilt of his head.

She answered, “For a modern magus, he’s actually impressive, Karel. Focused on one thing it seems, but there’s more under the surface.”

“I think he was here to save these people,” Karel said with a snort and a shake of his head.

Melanie tilted her head as she looked at Shirou and asked, “So are you that magus vigilante stopping evil in its tracks and all of that clichéd nonsense?”

“ . . . Trace . . . on . . .” Shirou rasped only to find nothing but aching cold, emptiness. He coughed and convulsed as his circuits tried to fire but weakly sparked.

Her face lit up as she asked, “Should I bite him, Karel? He’d be an amusing Apostle in a few decades.”

“That could be interesting,” he said with a shrug.

Shirou cried out as his knees gave out on him and he hit the ground. Sweat was pouring down his body, yet he felt as if his whole core was carved out of ice. A heartbeat like thunder pounded through his hears and his vision started to blur at the edges. He looked up to see the door of the warehouse suddenly explode and a blur of gold, purple and white rush towards Karel and Melanie.


She had thought the agenda was going to be simple, and plus it was something for her to do. However the sweet, near narcotic scent hit her in the face like a fist and nearly screeched her to a halt. Mentally she shook herself, gritted her teeth and drew more of her strength, wrapping up the need welling up in her with gleaming chains. The metaphor was not lost on her, but the chains in her mind resembled the chains that had once bound her.

The green haired female was drawing prana from everyone around her. The nude bodies with the weird, musky stench didn’t have much time left if she kept draining them. Not that they really mattered anyway, they didn’t resist the path that they’d been lead. Cattle. That was what he had called them as he whispered his honeyed words to her until he poisoned her to get what he needed. He had been so charming and she’d been so alone and didn’t even realize it.

Her charge and source of power called them parasites and drove to the creation of what had created her.

She had heard others call her the most perfect of beings.

She knew herself as the one sole remaining True Ancestor, the one born to hunt those who became Demon Lords.

Arcueid Brunestud hit the green haired female dead on. The woman let out a startled cry as the impact sent her flying across the room to hit some empty packing crates. An explosion of wooden shards resulted as the green haired Dead Apostle hit the ground hard. Arcueid’s eyes raked over her suit, short, unusual hair color and found nothing familiar about her. She turned towards the prana sucker’s companion and his odd, red flecked endless black eyes met hers.

Crimson eyes narrowed as she said, “I’ve heard of a Dead Apostle with weird eyes like yours.”

“Have you?” he asked as he flicked his pony tail back from his shoulder, “I think I should be flattered.”

Arcueid was silent as she charged the black eyed man, her fingers hooking into claws. He jumped back with surprising speed as he changed direction mid-leap, his lean body twisting towards the redheaded magus lying prone on the floor. There was a sound of rustling to the side and Arcueid shifted to see the green haired Apostle woman stand on her feet. Shards of wood were briskly brushed aside before she lightly traced fingers in the air in rapid motions.

She was a magus, Arcueid thought distantly as the shapes the woman traced in the air lit up briefly before the temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Curls of steam puffed up from her lips with each breath and the prone bodies on the floor started to shiver ever so slightly. Bits of ice crystallized in the air around the green haired woman until large shards of it floated in front of her. With a supple flick of her wrist, the shards of ice went flying toward Arcueid at rapid speed.

Eyes closed, Arcueid reached into the room, feeling the change of air pressure and the difference of the humidity in the room. The molecules of the air responded to her commands and started vibrated rapidly faster and faster as the ice vanished into hot steam. No puffs of steam rose from any pair of lips in the room, but the dry heat was nearly suffocating. The Dead Apostle scowled, barring her fangs and Arcueid felt something reach out to her internally.

Unperceivable to human eyes, thousands of hungry threads headed towards her, rippling in the power still remaining in the air. With a flick of her wrist sharp claws cut through the strands to send them scattering to the floor. “Neat trick, draining prana like that,” Arcueid said calmly before reaching into her mind to the chains that she could always so clearly see there.

The power within her shifted, turning her thought into a reality as the loud rippling of clanking metal echoed through the stillness. Thick, dark chains shot up through the ground at the moment of her command causing a loud scream to tear from the woman’s throat. Heavy lengths of metal started to intertwine around her body and tear through it, causing dark blood to splatter upon the ground. Dull crimson eyes looked at her and Arcueid charged towards her to finish the job before moving onto her partner.

Darkness sprang up all around them, causing her to stop in her tracks and spin around. A heavy, silken weight trailed down Arcueid’s back to lightly brush against the floor. Heavy, indigo silk rustled around her to spill onto the floor as well as she found herself sitting in a room made of pristine stone. A kindly pair of blue eyes looked at her from behind a pair of spectacles as something rich, warm and sweet slid down her throat . . .

With a scream, Arcueid shoved the familiar man in priest’s robes away from her. The chair toppled to the floor as she stood from it and jumped back. Her heart was racing in her chest as she breathed hard as hot, fiery need spiked up within her. Hot tears rolled down her face as she looked up at the bleeding wrist extended before her. Long, blond hair flew back and forth with each fierce shake of her head as she covered her mouth with one hand and warded her old friend away with the other.

“Drink for me, my princess,” Roa said with a smile as he extended his wrist, “Drink from me and fall.”

Arcueid screamed behind her hands as she warred with the need currently trying to overtake her.

June 13th, 2011, 10:20 PM

June 13th, 2011, 10:28 PM
Good lord, I forgot how creepy and awesome that last bit with Roa was...

June 13th, 2011, 10:30 PM
Good lord, I forgot how creepy and awesome that last bit with Roa was...

I think that's something a LOT of people forget about me. First and foremost I write a subgenre of horror. Just most of my fanfics are more romantic than anything.

June 14th, 2011, 07:35 AM
whoa!!! impressive!!!! excepional good writing!!!

June 14th, 2011, 06:21 PM
It was awesome reading this the first time. My opinion hasn't changed since.

June 14th, 2011, 11:18 PM
The muffled screaming caused Shirou to open his eyes to see only darkness all around him. He shook his head and he looked up to see an all too familiar white haired figure dressed in red. Grey eyes narrowed at him as a voice that nearly mirrored his own said, “Drown in your ideals and die.”

“We’re not wrong. I’m not wrong, and neither where you, and we know that,” Shirou said as he pushed himself to his feet.

Archer tilted his head and said, “And then why are you half dead lying on the floor of some warehouse?”

“Why am I talking to myself?” Shirou retorted in a clipped tone as he raised a hand to his head. The pounding behind his eyes and forehead was enough to make him stagger and rise bile to his throat. His limbs were sluggish to respond and each movement was a monumental effort. The heated palm pressed into his forehead as he groaned, gnashing his teeth at the vision before him.

Archer answered, “The thing you fear most is becoming me.”

“But if I become you and still withhold my ideal then it wasn’t worthless,” Shirou replied as he flexed his hands. The screaming became louder and louder. A young woman’s voice, high pitched and full of terror and begging for someone to stop. “And I’ve adjusted, I know my limits. You pushed them too far and sent yourself to Hell because of it. I’m not doing the same,” Shirou said between gritted teeth as Archer’s lip curled into a lazy smirk.

Anger spiked up hot and poured through his veins to cause his hand to curl into a fist. He gave into the sweet oblivion of heat and threw the punch with a loud, wordless yell. The punch connected with nothing save smoke and vapor, going right through the image of one possibility and leaving nothing behind. The force of the movement caused Shirou to tumble forward and each breath felt as if he was being stabbed with hundreds of needles.

He looked up to see a blond girl curled into a fetal position on the ground, white clad arms covering her head as she screamed and shook her head over and over. Keen eyes scoped the landscape around them, seeing only darkness that stretched everywhere. Shadows rippled in ominous ways and up was down and down was up. A cold, musky, dank smell filled his nostrils unlike anything he’d ever smelled before as coldness seemed to creep into his limbs. Perceptions were thrown to the wind leaving only vertigo and the unknown of the dark all around them.

Kansho and Bakuya’s images formed in Shirou’s mind with crystal clear clarity. He broke them down into their eight required parts and forced them into reality into his hands. Fire sparked through his nerves in a blazing rush that made him cry out as he forced his swords into existence when he had very little to force them with. Thousands of fiery needles seemed to pierce him from head to toe as he charged at the darkness.

The elegant blades cut through the reality torn asunder, shattering the darkness to reveal the warehouse again. Karel stood there, his odd eyes wide as Shirou stood there panting as the swords shattered from exertion. The Dead Apostle started to charge at him, and Shirou cursed as he spun back around to the young woman who was now quietly trembling on the ground. Her quivering form stood easily to her feet as he started to pull her out of the warehouse.

He cursed as he had to leave the rest of the people who made the circle there, but he hoped that at least the two Apostles were following him to his bike. Shirou didn’t look back as he lead the blond by the wrist away. “Let me go,” she whispered in a soft, melodic voice with an accent Shirou didn’t recognize.

He said, “We need to get out of here.”

“They’ll follow us if I don’t do something,” she said before shoving him away.

Shirou went tumbling towards his bike as she turned back to the warehouse and lifted up her hand. Clouds filled the sky and lightning struck the building as ran began to pelt down in torrents. She dropped her hand suddenly and a loud blast of thunder filled the air, rocking him to his bones as another crash of lightning hit the building. Wind was picking up in heavy gusts, each puff nearly sent Shirou falling to the now soaked ground as a loud, groaning sound filled the air.

A funnel cloud formed right over the warehouse and the tornado touched down on it. Shirou watched wide eyed as the building was torn to nothing but ruin and the tornado faded into nothing but a heavy breeze and the storm overhead scattered as if it hadn’t been there. Then the girl toppled backwards towards the ground.

Somehow, the blond girl had summoned a tornado and was now paying the price for such a thing.

Shirou cried out as he rushed towards her and extended his arms. The girl in white collapsed into them, her ample chest rising and falling with each slow breath. Her shoulder length blond hair was soaked and swept back from delicate features that seemed as if they were carved from fine alabaster. The white sweater was soaked to near translucency revealing gorgeous curves and sleek muscle tone and her purple skirt clung to long, sculpted legs.

The delicate figure seemed to be carved by moonlight, her silver armor catching the light and reflecting it back. Crystal clear green eyes met his as an even voice asked, “Are you my Master?”

Shirou swallowed at the memory as he stared at the girl currently lying in his arms. Saber’s summoning was forever burned into his mind and he would remember it even if he would go to Hell. He stared at the soaked form pillowed in his arms that trustingly slept there, rosy lips parted ever so slightly.

At that moment, another image of another girl was burned directly into Emiya Shirou’s mind.


“Tohsaka, somehow this girl managed to summon a tornado just to tear down the warehouse.”

Arcueid moaned at the sound of the low male voice speaking Japanese in hushed tones. She brought her hand up and found her hair soaking wet and her clothing in the same condition, however there was a large blanket wrapped around her. The smell of cleaning chemicals caused her nostrils to burn ever so slightly and there was an odd smell of steel, smoke, leather with a hint of blood in the blanket around her.

“No,” she said to herself as she shoved the blanket off as she felt her body clinch in need and her canines throb in response. Wet tendrils of hair bounced off her cheeks as she shook her head before sitting up. A pair of golden brown eyes with an odd dark ring inside the iris blinked back at her as she stared.

Standing before her wearing dark blue sweat pants and white socks with nothing else was a very tall man with broad shoulders. He had red hair that was haphazardly mussed and still damp from the storm she caused. A white bandage was tapped onto his left shoulder and there were other mostly healed wounds on his arms and chest as well as a rather deep scar etched right over his heart. Fair cheeks turned pink as he yelped and turned away from her.

Arcueid heard feminine laughter over the blue cellular phone as the man said, “It’s not funny, Tohsaka. She just woke up and I don’t have a shirt on . . .”

“And why don’t you have a shirt on Emiya-kun?” the female’s voice on the other line asked with a laugh.

Emiya-kun ran a hand through his thick, red hair and said, “Well, it got soaked due to the huge storm she caused. Plus I had a bullet graze my left shoulder and I had to bandage it. I hoped I’d get an answer from you before she woke up.”

“So you brought this girl who summoned a tornado from nowhere into your hotel room?” the girl asked with a long, exasperated sigh.

His flush was starting to creep to his back as he answered, “Well, she fainted. I couldn’t have let her stay there.”

“Well, I seriously doubt that simply brining the house down on those two Dead Apostles is going to kill them,” the woman on the other line replied.

“She’s right. They’ll be back and I need to kill them,” Arcueid said as she stood up.

“Tohsaka, I’ll talk to you later,” Emiya-kun said as he shut the phone. She watched as it was all but thrown on the table as he ran towards her. He moved between her and the door and she blinked up at him.

She asked, “What are you doing?”

“You can’t go back out there in your condition,” he said with a shake of his head.

She frowned, leaned forward and sniffed him. Even though his prana had all been drained from him, she could smell that he did indeed have magic circuits. “My condition is not your concern, Mr. Magus, or can I call you Emiya-kun too?” she asked as she tilted her head at him.

He flushed again and stammered, “W-well, ah, yes, but . . . You f-fainted.”

“I was over taxed, but with the rest I just had I should be fine enough to take them,” Arcueid said with a shrug.

He blinked at her and said, “You’re joking. You . . . you were curled up in a ball crying with what they did to you.”

“Drink for me, my princess,” Roa said with a smile as he extended his wrist, “Drink from me and fall.”

The door opened and all she saw was glowing, silvery blue eyes before the light caught the sliver of gleaming metal. She had no chance to move, no chance to react. Agony flared up within her as her body was rendered into seventeen pieces and carelessly left on the ground.

Her chest tightened as she found it hard to breathe and her arms wrapped around herself. The need weighed down upon her like lead and made every inch of her ache and shiver. Her breath caught at the sweet, coppery scent coming from the magus, from his thigh and his shoulder. He must have been wounded very recently, she thought as she moved towards him.

“I called about the people in the warehouse, but I had to get us away or it would ask too many questions, and I’m already in sort of hot water with the Association,” he said with a swallow that caused his Adam’s apple to bob slightly and brought out the lines of arteries pulsing under his skin in his neck.

Arcueid said, “They were dead when the storm hit.”

“ . . . No . . . I . . .” Emiya-kun pressed his hands into his eyes before cursing, “Damn it. I was too late.”

She tilted her head and asked, “Why did you care about them anyway?”

“Because I want to help the people who can’t help themselves,” he answered.

Arcueid blinked and then asked, “Are you stupid?”

“What?” he replied as he blinked and fixed her with his oddly pretty eyes.

She placed a hand on her hip and asked, “Are you mentally deficient?”

Those eyes narrowed and he retorted, “I maybe broken, but I will follow my ideal as best as I can within reason.”

“However if you can’t reason, then you can’t follow this ideal,” she said with a tilt of her head as she blinked at him.

He sighed and said, “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”

“Well, you should explain it to me properly then, and don’t get lazy,” she replied with a shrug, “After all you brought me here . . . At least make things interesting for me.”

He blinked and then asked, “Can I get a shirt first?”

“If you want, it doesn’t matter to me,” Arcueid answered.

He flushed again and said, “I can get you a change of clothing too. You’re soaked . . . I don’t want you to catch cold.”

She giggled and said, “A True Ancestor can’t catch a cold, Silly.”

“T-true Ancestor?” he gasped as he looked at her with eyes like saucers.

Arcueid nodded and said, “Yep, the one remaining True Ancestor, Arcueid Brunestud. Now that you have my name, could you give me yours.”

“Ah, I’m Emiya Shirou,” he said as he stared at her, “Wait . . . you’re the White Princess?”

Arcueid sighed, frowned and answered, “I’ve been called that, but I don’t like it. Please call me Arcueid and I will call you Shirou.”

“A-aren’t you being forward?” he stammered.

She frowned and answered, “Not really, I mean, I have seen you without your shirt.”

“Ah,” he said before running to get a simple black T-shirt on. She frowned as he was now keeping quite a bit of distance from her.

She folded her arms under her breasts and asked, “Why are you staying away from me now?”

“Y-you’re a vampire,” he said, swallowing again.

Arcueid turned her head away from the enticing flex of arteries pulsing in his throat. She gripped the wet cloth of her turtleneck and said in a soft voice, “And I hate the smell of blood. I hate the taste of it. I don’t drink blood.” Not since . . . She shook her head as she cursed that fallen priest yet again, knowing that it wouldn’t get her anywhere. She had been the one who fell, it was her own weakness that brought her down, and no matter how many times she killed him the need was still lurking under the surface.

She shook her head and said, “You were going to explain your ideal to me.”

“Ah, well, originally I was going to be a superhero and save everyone. However someone very thoroughly showed me the folly of that, but I wasn’t going to completely abandon it. So I try to save those who need saving and stop those who would hurt others,” Shirou explained as his cheeks flushed slightly and he ran a hand through his hair again.

Arcueid tilted her head and said, “Why do you want to save people?”

“Because a man saved me when I was all but dead,” he answered with a sad smile, “A man who was broken, even though I didn’t know it at the time, but he became my world and I wanted to be like him.”

She asked, “Why?”

“Because I was empty inside,” he said in a soft voice as he turned away from her, his golden gaze heading for the window.

She blinked at the sadness in his profile and bit her lip. She said, “I’m sorry for calling you stupid.”

“Ah, you didn’t know and I’m use to it by now,” he said with a laugh as he turned back to face her.

That made her frown more and she stood up from the bed. Within moments she was looking up at him and watched him. He blinked and took a step back, his breath catching as she heard his heart rate pick up even more. She remembered him breaking through the Reality created by the male Dead Apostle while she had all been crippled. He could be useful, she thought before smiling at him and holding out her hand.

“Since you already helped me once, maybe you can help me again,” she suggested with a bright smile.

June 14th, 2011, 11:19 PM
Shirou blinked as he looked at the White Princess' extended hand and smiling face. There was the barest hint of dimples in her cheeks as she smiled at him so broadly that it closed her eyes. The sheer innocence of the expression reminded him of Ilya, which put him more on guard because he knew exactly how dangerous his elder sister could be when provoked.

“It's been a long time since I've had a partner,” Shirou said, causing Arcueid's eyes to open and the smile to melt from her face. Her head tilted kittenishly as she stared at him with her odd ruby eyes with their slitted pupils.

She bit her lip, lowered her hand and asked, “So, you don't want to work with me?”

“No, no I didn't say that,” Shirou said, wincing ever so slightly at the nervous laugh that bubbled from his throat as he shook his head and lifted his hands, “I was just thinking aloud.”

Arcueid's head tilted to the other side as she studied him with unblinking eyes. She asked, “Did something bad happen to your last partner?”

“She . . . had to go away,” Shirou said with a tiny smile that was almost painful as an image of a petite blond in heavy armor with eyes like emeralds filled his mind.

Arcueid frowned at him and said, “I don't like it when people hide things for me. I may not understand things about this time, but I'm not an idiot. You can tell me if she died, unless you are unable to talk about it yourself.”

“She faded away,” Shirou said as he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh before looking at the blond standing before him. He swallowed and asked, “Can we not talk about it, please, your highness.”

“You can call me Arcueid, Shirou,” she said with a slight smile as she spun away from him, her purple skirt swishing around her. She walked to the window of his hotel room and placed her hand on the glass. He blinked as he saw her reflection looking back at her, the image's hand grazing the girl's who was standing before it. She said, “If you're afraid for my safety, trust me, there's very little that could hurt me.”

“Then what happened back there?” Shirou asked with a frown as she spun away from her reflection.

Crimson eyes narrowed at him as she faced him again. She flipped her hair from her face with an elegant hand and replied, “Something I was unprepared for. Something that you were immune to, which is why I want your help. The woman's ability means nothing to me, however her compatriot is something I don't want to deal with.”

Shirou frowned and said, “I don't know what was up with that guy.” Except that I had some hallucination with Archer talking to me, he thought as he folded his arms across his chest. He studied her as she stood there with her own arms crossed under her breasts, lifting them higher than before and alerting him to the fact that her white turtleneck was still wet and clinging to her skin. Warmth hit his cheeks like a bonfire and he had to turn his head to keep from staring.

“I don't either. I didn't recognize them, but there are few Apostles that I keep true records of,” Arcueid said with a shrug as she tapped one finger against her bottom lip while tilting her head.

Shirou asked, “So, do you hunt Dead Apostles often?”

“Of course! That's what I was made for actually. Well, I was made to keep in check other True Ancestors that drank blood,” she said in a soft voice as she stared back out to the window, “But now I'm the only one left I think . . .”

“What happened to them?” Shirou asked, almost afraid of her answer. He stared at her looking at her reflection and how her eyes got a far away cast to them. Again her hand went up to the glass, splaying across it as her mirrored image did the same. Her queer eyes looked down before looking back at her reflection.

Suddenly, she spun back around to face Shirou and answered, “I had to kill them.”

He swallowed as he took a step back from her and said, “I see.”

“So that's why I make sure I'll never become like them and drink blood,” she said with a shake of her head. Her eyes closed and her mouth pressed into a thin line as her hands gripped the white cloth of her shirt. Those eyes looked at him and she gave him a smile that was a little sad. “I made a mistake a long time ago, and I'm making sure that doesn't happen again.”

Shirou blinked at her and asked, “Why do you want my help anyway?” From what little I've heard from Tohsaka she'd be on an entirely different level than even a Servant.

“Maybe you interest me,” she replied, “And that Dead Apostle has a dangerous ability that didn't bother you.”

“But his partner did do a number on me,” Shirou said with a frown, remembering his prana drained from him as if it was nothing.

Arcueid smiled at him and said, “She can't hurt me, I'm always drawing power.”

“From where?” he asked curiously.

One black pump tapped delicately on the floor as Arcueid answered, “From Gaia herself.”

“Did you form a contract?” Shirou asked as he sat down.

She shook her head, chuckled and said, “Gaia doesn't generally offer contracts to humans. She actually hates them because they hurt her. It's Alyaya that offers contracts to protect her charges.”

“And that is?” Shirou asked.

Arcueid smiled and asked, “And why are you so curious about contracts?”

“I know someone who made one and he regretted it, and he's making sure I don't make the same mistakes that he did,” Shirou answered with a smile of his own.

Her smile brightened as she said, “Well, basically it is the spirit of humanity. Sometimes Gaia and Alyaya will work together, but Gaia ultimately wants humans destroyed.”

“Why is that?” Shirou asked with a scowl.

Arcueid tucked a lock of her golden hair behind her ear and answered, “Wouldn't you want to destroy something that is slowly and painfully killing you?”

He blinked at her straight forward reasoning and thought, Just like Ilya. One moment she'd be like an innocent child and the next she'll be doing stuff like this. He sighed, shook his head and said, “Well, people try their best . . .”

“No they don't. Was anyone else there trying to save those people?” Arcueid asked with another one of her feline head tilts.

Shirou swallowed and answered, “No, but I doubt anyone noticed . . .”

“Or rather cared that they were gone. People tend to put themselves first, unless they're broken like you are,” Arcueid said with a smile and a shake of her head.

Shirou gritted his teeth at her words, things that he'd heard all too often in the past. He retorted, “Well, I'm sorry for being broken and empty.”

“I didn't say it was a bad thing,” Arcueid said with a slow blink as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

He stared at her, blinked, looked away as his cheeks heated up and looked back at her. A hand ran through thick red hair as the vampire continued to smile at him, lighting up her eyes. Shirou looked down and said, “It's just . . . been implied in the past that . . .”

“No, I like that about you, Shirou,” she said with a chuckle that increased the furnace currently burning in his cheeks even more. “You're an interesting person, which is another reason I want to work with you.”

“Because you’re bored,” Shirou said with a shake of his head.

She chuckled and said, “Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a position where I could . . .” A slight frown marred the perfection of her features as she shook her head before smiling back at him. She bit her lip and continued, “Never mind. So, will you work with me? You can deal with the man while I deal with the prana draining witch. However since they have caught sight of you, they might put you in their sights.”

“What do you mean?” Shirou asked, trying to ignore that familiar tightening in his stomach.

She tilted her head and said, “You resisted. Even with almost all of your prana drained you resisted both of them and impressed them. You probably have enough magic potential to become a Dead Apostle through bite in a very short time.”

“Well, they can forget that,” Shirou said with a snort and a scowl.

Arcueid chuckled and said, “Well, I figured that out myself, however they maybe rather forceful with their point.” The pale, long fingered hand extended towards him again and she smiled at him.

He stared at it for a moment before taking it into his own and shaking it. He said, “Well, I guess we’re working together then.”

“I am looking forward to it then,” Arcueid said with a bright smile as her seemingly delicate feeling hand shook his vigorously.


“Do you know how much this suit cost?”

Karel raised an eyebrow as he looked at his partner and replied, “Practically nothing considering the source.”

“Well, Projecting clothing for such a long period of time does require a bit of prana,” Melanie said with a smile as she reached up to toy with the hematite earring on her left ear. The set of dark metallic looking stones were arranged lovingly to fall back into place before short, deep green hair was tasseled back into a suitable style. Karel remembered when those thick, oddly colored locks tumbled down her back to reach the perfect curves of those ears. The feeling of having those velvety locks surround him as her body did was an all too familiar one.

Even though their partnership had stopped being of a romantic nature years ago they had not stopped working together. In their own way the pair of Dead Apostles were more faithful than most married couples. They had their arrangements and stuck with it, nor did the thought of betraying the other ever crossed their minds. Then again finding someone else who worked with the same synchronicity as well as putting up with the other’s idiosyncrasies would be a near impossible task.

He smirked and retorted, “Prana that you have to drain from some unfortunate sod that you come across.”

“At least they end up useful,” Melanie said with a smile as she closed her eyes and lifted one index finger to the air. The long digit twisted and weaved gracefully, making patterns that glowed faintly in the air as she turned around. More and more of the glowing ruins appeared around her before she stopped and snapped her slender fingers. Glowing signets flew and attached lovingly to ample curves to form another suit, this one with sharper edges and a deep maroon that harmonized with her green hair. She smiled as she placed a hand on her hip and gestured to her newly created suit.

“Maybe you should try wearing physical clothing like a normal person,” he said with a chuckle.

She raised an eyebrow and retorted, “I’m not a normal person and neither are you. We never were normal Karel. We both had loftier goals.”

“True,” he said with a smile. They had both been magi who had, in Melanie’s case accidentally, found the way to transform to Dead Apostles by magic. He had been purposely seeking immortality while his partner had just been doing what every other magi seemed to strive for: seeking the Root.

“Shame our plan with the Chinaman seemed to fail so epically,” she said with a sigh as she fell back on the rather large bed in the room they shared. Karel looked around the large hotel room with a snort and reflected how their stay at the Hyperion was only temporary. However they had stayed there far too long for his tastes.

Karel sighed as he sat down on the bed beside her and said, “I loathe the United States.”

“It’s the only place were we can work without too much worry from interference more powerful Apostles, the Church, or that Barthomeloi bitch and her dogs,” Melanie said with a sigh as she sat up and rested her hands on his shoulders.

He leaned against her and said, “However we seemed to gather the attention of the White Princess.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be problematic,” Melanie said as her nose curled up and her tongue stuck out slightly.

Karel tilted his head and said, “However . . .”

“She seemed pretty quelled when you opened up your Reality Marble against her,” Melanie replied as she started to slowly rub his shoulders.

Tension slowly started to melt as nimble fingers worked out painful knots out of the tense muscles. He felt himself slowly melting and sighed. “Yet that punk managed to break through it,” he said with a grunt.

Soft lips brushed against his ear as Melanie’s voice said, “That magus interests me. Plus, it might be useful for us to have a knight at our beck and call like that brat.”

“We’re no where in the Black Princess’ league,” Karel said with a chuckle, “And here you are planning things like knights and the like.”

Her lower lip jutted out as she said, “But I like the idea of having a knight with a couple of swords at our beck and call to slay things for us.”

“Well, you were born in that time period,” Karel said with another chuckle.

Her tongue jutted out again as she retorted, “Well, I can’t help it if I like the idea of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.”

“Not wanting to burst your bubble, but King Arthur was actually a little girl,” Karel replied.

She sighed and he felt a sharp pinch at the base of his spine. He yelped at the sudden jolt of pain and spun around to look at her. She scowled and said, “Next you’re going to tell me Santa Clause isn’t real aren’t you?”

“Now you’re just teasing me,” he said as he grabbed her hands and started to push her towards the bed.

Large, crimson eyes looked up at him as she said, “But what are we going to do with the White Princess, Karel?”

“Killing her would be problematic. I wouldn’t want Merm Solomon and Gransburg Blackmore breathing down our necks,” he said as he let her wrist go and sat back up.

She ran a hand through her hair and mused aloud, “Well, perhaps we could bind her. Making fears real is your inner world, but you can’t keep that up forever. Perhaps we could form something that locks her in there until we choose to open it.”

“Times like these Mel remind me while we’re still together, even though you cut your hair,” he said with a smile at her.

She snorted and said, “You’re still sore about that, Karel?”

“Of course. So, we’ll come up with a plan to capture a princess and gain us a knight,” he said with a grin.

Her grin matched his as she said, “Sounds rather like something from a fairy tale. I rather fancy it.”

“I knew you would.”


“You travel on this?”

Shirou was currently memorizing his helmet as Arcueid was kneeling and running her hands over the pitted chrome of his motorcycle. He nodded and answered, “Yeah, I do. I found her in a junkyard and got her working again. She gets me where I need to go.”

“Is it common to give a machine personal qualities such as gender?” she asked as she tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear and looked up at him from where she was kneeling.

Flame raced along his cheeks as he swallowed, cleared his throat and managed to answer, “Sometimes, yeah. I’ve done a lot of work on this bike to get it working so I’m proud of it.”

“It looks like it’ll fall apart if I flick it,” Arcueid said with a tilt of her head as she stood up.

He glared and retorted, “Well, it runs fine.”

“Well, I think riding a motorcycle will be a fun experience. I just normally teleport or run anywhere I need to go, so this is all new to me. So do I sit in front of you or behind you?” she asked with a smile as she clasped her hands together. Crimson eyes were fixated on the bike as the vampire bounced up and down ever so slightly while wearing an excited grin.

Shirou smiled at her eagerness and said, “Well, first thing I need to do is give you a helmet.”

“But a crash wouldn’t be capable of killing me or even injuring me for more than a few minutes,” Arcueid said with a frown as she blinked at him.

“However a police man might pull us over if you’re breaking the Helmet Law,” Shirou said with a smile as he visualized the helmet’s parts. He broke them down and reassembled them in his head. Even though it wasn’t a sword, the process was similar if more prana consuming and tiring. However it was easier than buying her a helmet with money he didn’t have at the moment. “Trace. On.”

Circuits sparked to life in a heated rush as prana traveled through them, making visualization reality. Within moments, Shirou handed Arcueid a blue helmet that was the twin to the one he was going to wear. Her eyes lit up as she took it with a giggle and slid her head into it. “It’s not very comfortable,” she said as she pushed the visor down.

He grinned as he slid his on, strapped it into place and replied, “Well, they’re not supposed to be. They protect your head from crashes or in most cases just flying rocks and debris.”

“Well, that makes sense. You are rather fragile after all,” Arcueid said as she placed her hands on the seat of the bike. “So, when do I get on it?”

He laughed and said, “Let me get on it first and then you get on behind me.” He straddled the bike and leaned forward, his hands resting on the handle bars with ease. She hopped up behind him, but instead of straddling the bike she was sitting sideways, as if she was riding sidesaddle. He blinked at her and said, “Arcueid, you shouldn’t ride like that.”

“It will be fine. Get going, I want to see what this is like!” she said with a smile that he couldn’t quite see all the way due to the helmet.

Sighing, Shirou turned the motor over and the bike roared to life. A heavy boot kicked up the kickstand, the gear was shifted and the bike launched out of the alley. The thing about the Katana was that it constantly wanted to simply move. That was simply the soul of the machine and Shirou could read it as easily as day. If there was more road and less bystanders he would have dropped the gear and simply let the bike go. However he had a purpose, even though he and Arcueid had really no idea what to look for.

Arcueid simply suggested riding out into the night to see if they could find anything unusual. Normally Shirou liked to have a plan that was more than just looking, but she had been persistent about leaving the hotel room the entire day. Well, when she hadn’t been asleep. So they would travel up and down Los Angeles until either he saw something or she sensed something. She had assured him that she would be able to sense the Dead Apostles or any other non-human entities running around.

I hope she knows what she’s doing, he thought to himself as he had to slow down once they got into traffic. Slim arms wrapped around his waist as he felt pressure on his shoulder. Eyes widening at the reflection of Arcueid still sitting sidesaddle but with her arms wrapped around him and twisted so she could rest against his shoulder. Her sitting like that helped making balancing the bike easier so he couldn’t complain.

However he was all too aware of the soft warmth against him, warmth he hadn’t felt in nearly a decade. His heart picked up as his body was all too aware of the lovely woman currently holding onto him for balance. He gritted his teeth as she suddenly let go of him with one arm and pointed down an alley.

The bike leaned into the turn as it gracefully pivoted in the direction it was commanded to. Standing in the alley was a lank figure that slowly turned towards them. Light from the headlights bathed it in a white glow that caused the person’s eyes to seemingly glow as a mouth full of sharp, brittle teeth opened. The engine’s roar cut off so Shirou could hear the person’s rasping growl.

Arcueid hopped off the bike, pulled off the helmet and applied enough force on it to get it to disperse in shimmering shards of spent prana. She said, “A Dead.”

“Don’t these guys generally travel in packs?” Shirou whispered her as he prepared the mental image of Kansho and Bakuya for Tracing.

June 14th, 2011, 11:37 PM
And Shirou casts Summon More Dead. Silly Shirou, they are your enemies.

And this fic being dead makes me sad, Elf.

June 14th, 2011, 11:38 PM
Fic being dead makes Al cry...

September 27th, 2011, 12:43 AM

September 27th, 2011, 12:51 AM
......I don't know what's more odd to me. The fact that you necroed this brilliance, or that you needed to edit for spelling errors for "R.I.P."

Either way, bringing this back to the front may have been unnecessary, BUT YOU DID WELL.

September 27th, 2011, 01:01 AM

September 27th, 2011, 01:06 AM

Dude, what?

September 27th, 2011, 01:10 AM
Dude, what?It's a dead fic, so...mourning.

September 27th, 2011, 05:13 AM
......I don't know what's more odd to me. The fact that you necroed this brilliance, or that you needed to edit for spelling errors for "R.I.P."
Either way, bringing this back to the front may have been unnecessary, BUT YOU DID WELL.
You haven't been paying any real attention to my posts, have you?
The only posts without
"splling arrors"
are the first ten I made, or when I'm being completely serious.