Part One:
Shepard had been sceptical about this from the start. She'd rather expected that 'the power to stop the Reapers' would be fulfilled via some kind of mass-accelerator cannon finally capable of destroying the Machine Gods with impunity. Perhaps some way to reverse indoctrination, letting the galaxy put up a proper fight, world-to-world. Nowhere had her contract specified time travel. (And smartarses pointing out that she performed time travel on a regular basis via the medium of an FTL starship could please walk directly out one of said starship's airlocks). Apparently she'd been summoned back to Earth in the early 21st Century to fight for the Holy Grail. Just slightly unbelievable.
Actually, that all did qualify as 'slightly' unbelievable compared to what she'd seen over the last hour or so, since she'd been summoned. The 'Servants' involved in the 'Holy Grail War' had been quite able to sense the absurd amounts of prana radiating off each other and, as everyone chose a target and closed in, a gigantic battle royale had developed. A park, close to the city's centre, had ended up being their paths' convergence point. Shepard had flicked on her tactical cloak just before she approached. With that, her prana presence was severed from the outside world. Just because all the other Servants seemed happy to stand out like beacons didn't mean Shepard felt the need to. Always better to gauge your opponents' abilities than to reveal yours.
The first casualty had been a man clothed in little more than rags, a belt of bone, and an incredible amount of scar tissue. Shepard would have been very surprised if she'd looked any worse whilst Cerberus was putting her back together. A strangely-garbed man a monk? - had reacted with the speed of a swallow and shot the Servant twice between the eyes. Good marksmanship Shepard approved, even if she was sceptical of his odd laser-pistols. Shepard did not approve of the scarred man's head healing from its wound, or of the fact that he had got back up with a small smile. Bitter, weary and amused, all at once, it made Shepard wonder how many times he'd done such a thing already. (Cerberus, she was sure, would have hated the man for doing something, which they'd achieved only after the investment of two years and billions of credits, with such ease. Or maybe they'd have loved him as their latest experimental subject).
His erstwhile attacker had been only slightly less shocked, but had apparently decided to go all out. Through her rifle's scope, she could see dark veins creeping over his face, his eyes yellowing and his skin greying. He stretched out his hand and seemed to call on some sort of biotics (couldn't be, though no blue glow, no subtle, tell-tale shift in the local gravity). The scarred man was lifted into the air. His limbs stretched, cracked, broke. His back bent, before a sudden snap sounded through the park, and the man folded in two. Shepard blinked and winced a little inside. She'd not often seen Wrex achieve that level of brutality. Even Jack hadn't felt the need, save on Perugia.
Still, it didn't keep the seemingly undying man man? Humans could not do this sort of thing down. More cracks sounded as bones shifted back into place, until the immortal was standing again. Just in time to get hit by the robed man's next attack, one that grated on Shepard's mind? No, something deeper than that, even if she couldn't put a name to it.
Servant Saber's Noble Phantasm: Death Field ・A Wound In Life Itself!
The dark-robed man intoned those words, and a crackling, purple stream of light reached out from him. She noticed the immortal actually wincing when it touched him, and the smile drop off his face.
Enough. This is unacceptable. His voice sounded just as rough as his skin, and it creaked like an old iron gate. But his next words were filled with power, too much to dismiss. Missile of Patience ・ Accumulated Wisdom of Uncounted Lives.
Then it was Saber's turn to be worried some sudden flash of intuition, Shepard thought, warning him that his victory was much farther away than he'd believed. His guns dropped from his hands, and somehow floated into the holsters at his side, just as a metal tube jumped from his belt to his palm. It would have been an impressive display of biotic manipulation, if Shepard weren't quite sure that no biotic could make her hair stand on end as his strange lightning attack had done earlier. A hiss, and the tube ignited, sprouting a crimson-red blade. A laser sword. Of course, why not? He was trying to kill someone who was apparently immortal, so why shouldn't he casually defy physics?
The blade was brought up just in time, as a torrent of energy poured out of the ballista that had somehow materialised by the immortal's side. Another mad impossibility but no time to think about that. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of blue-glowing bolts leapt forward at Saber. He deflected perhaps the first thirty, once again demonstrating absurd speed and reflexes that Shepard couldn't have matched, even after all of Mordin and Cerberus' surgery. Even more seemed just to fizzle out as they reached him, cancelled by the magic resistance granted to Servant Saber. But that defence too could be overwhelmed. Finally, one bolt burst through, causing him to flinch, to shudder in pain. With his guard down, there was no chance: the strikes hammered into him over and over, causing that same spastic pain reflex. Not only that, but they seemed to burn everywhere they touched, turning his exposed skin red and black. As the storm of energy tailed off, Saber was left lying on the ground, groaning. The other Servant Caster, no doubt about that stepped forward, presumably ready for the finishing blow.
Tch. Bit sad to see another of us lot with so little strength. Spirit-eater what can't stop a first-bloody-circle spell? C'mon, man!
Ah, the (overly-sarcastic) next arrival. Shepard hadn't been concentrating on the prana signatures which could have been a costly mistake but it seemed the rest were catching up. Four Servants in the park, all told, and two more closing in quickly. ETA ... about a minute, she guessed. One giant cluster coming right up, and whatever force had kept the town's occupants asleep surely wouldn't hold up to all the Servants having it out at once.
The owner of the scornful voice actually rather like Zaeed's, now Shepard thought about it stepped forward out of the shadows. He was tall and brawny, with a huge scythe in his hands and a mocking smile on his face.
Saber's down, so why don't you face me instead, Caster? See 'ow yer power faces up to Berserker!
Rather sane for a Berserker, Shepard thought, though she supposed that challenging Caster head-on after what they'd both just seen probably counted as a form of madness. Caster, however, took his opponent seriously, instantly raising his hands and chanting out a spell (Shepard was already getting far too used to that kind of insanity at this stage). Roaring fire leapt out to attack the grinning man, but he moved out of the way with casual speed.
C'mon, matey, step it up a bit! I'm not like this little prick, he said, pointing at Saber as he lay on the ground of the park, I 'ave actually fought a mage before.
Fuck you, gasped out Saber. I will consume you. I will take your life and I make it mine. This void ate planets . threatened a galaxy. Death Field!
Now the stream of light was thicker, reaching out and surrounding Berserker entirely with its purple haze. Unlike even the apparently immortal Caster, though, he seemed absolutely unconcerned. The reason soon became clear to Shepard, as Saber curled up where he was and screamed, his attack winking out in an instant.
Told you, didn't I? Knew what you were, I felt it. Not so far off, us two. Empty spaces, hungerin' for life to fill us, for anything to keep from turnin' on ourselves. But you put emptiness in emptiness, and yer not gonna get anythin' but more emptiness.
Shepard wasn't sure she'd understood half of that, but it apparently made sense to Saber, given his groaned curse.
Ah, shut it, you shite. You could eat planets and whatever-bloody-else, but I ate soddin' gods, once upon a time. Lost as soon as you tried it, you prat. Let us get on with the proper work, yeah? Having said his piece, Berserker pulled back his black scythe and swung it, decapitating the helpless Saber without apparent effort. The container dissolved, and the sparks drifted away, a tiny, transient memorial for the first casualty of this Holy Grail War.
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Originally Posted by asterism42
