Medium Rare (Fate/Zero)

[Mattias]

And I wonder what the hitch to this mission is. There's no way that Weisse is defenseless; maybe he's like Jekyll and Hyde?

I'm betting on Island of Doctor Moreau, in a city, with all the deadly, deadly Australian fauna.

[mAc Chaos]

You always come up with a colorful cast of characters.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Snappy dialogue and fun applications of mechanics are some of the reasons I like your work so much, Bloble.

[Bloble]

Four

"Everyone has their own rule for this sort of business. Helps us sleep at night."

"What's yours?"

"Never avert your eyes."

Emiya Kiritsugu wasn’t used to seeing dead bodies.

Certainly, he didn’t cringe or feel sick or display any of the usual signs that a normal person would, upon glimpsing a deceased human being. He didn’t get the urge to vomit or run away. His body didn’t start producing adrenaline or sweating profusely.

Emiya Kiritsugu had only seen death once: the day his old life went to hell. Natalia had never taken him out on a mission, so he hadn’t had the chance to see more. However, every night, when he closed his eyes, he saw the same people dying and rising from the dead and dying again.

So, he wasn’t used to it. Kiritsugu was – completely unbeknownst to himself - merely so traumatized by the experience that he could no longer produce the proper reaction. This wasn’t a problem. To Kiritsugu, only the conclusion mattered.

Said conclusion had him nudging through a murmuring crowd of people to get closer to a police line. Beyond it would be a crime scene, illuminated by coloured emergency lights and forensic specialists. If he made it on time, he could get a few pictures before they covered things up. He bumped past an elderly lady and resisted the urge to stop and apologize. It would ruin everything.

No one noticed Kiritsugu. No one could. It wasn’t a particularly complex spell; any decent magus could pull off a glamour. Kiritsugu wasn’t even close to that. He could reinforce and project and theorize on altering, but most everything else was beyond him. No, Natalia had applied the glamour herself. As long as he didn’t stray from his role as an unimportant child, the crowd wouldn’t notice his ethnicity or the fact that he obviously wasn’t a local. The spell was weak and fragile, but it had to be; anything larger would be too easy to trace by a skilled magus.

The idea that there could be a foreign magus watching him unnerved Kiritsugu, but he wasn’t the type to hesitate because of it. He’d already killed one Sealing Designate; another wouldn’t be so bad.

However, only one person had died this night. As he reached the edge of the crowd, Kiritsugu saw the scene. It was in the middle of a sandy park near the edge of the city. They hadn’t had to time to cover up the body yet. Police marched across the line, warning people to back away with little success. No one could not see it, plain as day.

She lay half-draped over a bench, as if she’d just been sitting on it before she was murdered. She’d slid, now with her bottom half splayed out on the dirt and her top half twisted, staring forward with empty eyes, a grey sheen on her tanned skin. One could be excused for not instantly noticing that something was wrong; there wasn’t much blood and she looked surprisingly intact, lacking bullet or knife wounds. Kiritsugu idly snapped a picture without realizing.

And then, abruptly, he noticed, and his hardened eyes widened at the realization.

There was a hollow, a depression in the victim’s lower body, just above her legs and well below her stomach. The rest of her was cheery, chubby even, but this one location looked as if it’d been scooped out with a spoon. A thin trickle of blood where her legs met confirmed his suspicion, as did the murmurs Kiritsugu picked up without thinking.

The victim had been pregnant. Now she wasn’t.

Kiritsugu wanted to do something. It wasn’t anything concrete; he couldn’t focus that wish into a concrete goal. Nonetheless, he wanted, needed to do something. He couldn’t sit back and let bad things happen to good people. He couldn’t watch and accept the cruelty of the world.

So he raised the camera, zoomed in, and took another picture, as paramedics swarmed over the body and began to drag a blanket over it.

When he lowered the camera, the paramedics had stopped, as had the crowd. It was suddenly silent, with only the sound of a lone bird chirping in the distance to tell him that this wasn’t some kind of hallucination. The motion of the crowd against Kiritsugu’s back had ceased completely.

Out of self-preservation, or some kind of survival instinct, Kiritsugu stopped moving as well. He held himself perfectly still, not turning his head to try and look for an explanation to the events, or slinking back into the frozen crowd.

That decision saved his life.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps. Hard soles on sidewalk, approaching from behind. The hairs on the back of Kiritsugu’s neck crawled, and he became very aware of the Beretta’s weight and warmth, just under his shoulder. Still, he did not move.

The footsteps approached, passed by Kiritsugu’s left, coming within ten feet of his position, and continued on. Were Kiritsugu trained in recognizing such things, he’d have guessed the owner of the footsteps to be an adult female, just shy of six feet tall, with a limp resulting from a past injury of her left foot. Since Kiritsugu was but a child, he had to wait until the woman came into view.

Kiritsugu had applied a glamour to not stand out. That glamour wouldn’t have helped this woman. She was clothed in something out of an old Western: a chewed-on straw hat on a head of white hair, and a woolen overcoat covering all of her upper body, leaving only a pair of dark, wrinkled hands to peek out of the sleeves. It was intricately decorated with stitches, covering the whole coat with what must’ve been thousands of pale white dots that formed ever-changing patterns. Kiritsugu almost expected to see spurs, but her tall boots lacked such frivolities.

The woman moved without hurry. She ducked under the police line, picked her way through the grass, and reached the half-covered murder victim. Gently she pried the blanket away, revealing the grisly scene. Kiritsugu glimpsed a pair of bright brown eyes staring down at the scene, and a frown that showed unexpectedly white teeth.

“Magus,” the woman said. The word reverberated through the ground, the silent crowd, and the air itself. Kiritsugu was in the middle of a giant microphone – no, he was a part of it. “You have brought us pain, magus.” It was physically painful. His bones would shatter to dust unless he moved and dislodged himself from the machine. But Kiritsugu knew that to do so would be suicide, and so endured.

The woman placed one hand on the place where the victim – where Gina’s uterus would have been. She gently raised Gina’s shirt, revealing bare, flabby skin.

“Again you sever the threads of life,” the newcomer murmured, her voice transmitting through the world until it was as loud as Shirley’s screams had been that night, only deeper and huskier. “Again you pillage what isn’t yours to take.”

Something landed on the woman’s shoulder: a tiny black bird, decorated with white dashes like her clothing, with a splash of red on its back. It hopped in place and seemed to chirp something into her ear. She nodded.

“I know you’re watching, magus,” she said, looking up. Her face was as wrinkled and dark as her hands. Her eyes were twin pinpricks that stared into the distance, just past Kiritsugu. “I know you hear me. You don’t belong here. Your learning, your sin, your despair, it doesn’t belong here. Leave. Leave and trouble us no more. This will be the only warning I give.”

One hand reached into the coat and emerged clutching a handful of something. It was some distance away, but Kiritsugu glimpsed as she sprinkled what could have been sand over Gina’s sunken skin. Before his eyes it swelled up, until she looked almost whole.

The dark woman turned back to the dead. “Sleep,” she whispered, sending the sounds through Kiritsugu’s entire body. “Sleep. And Dream. Forget, all of you. Time will lead you to forget the pain. Let it dull. Let it pass. Let the thorn be plucked. Let it scar over. Let it remind you, and not injure you. Let this be as a tragedy of twenty seasons past, to be remembered faintly and accepted without harm.”

It was like a lullaby. The words seemed to sink into Kiritsugu’s mind, slurring together and dulling his senses. He clenched his free hand into a fist, thrusting his nails into his palms and banishing the warmth with fresh pain. The wave of words washed over him, but he was a rock in the storm, enduring it all.

And then it was over and he was himself again.

The woman replaced the blanket, wedging it into the grip of the paramedics as it had been before her arrival. As a last gesture, she dipped one finger into a hidden coat pocket, and then pressed it into Gina’s forehead, leaving behind a white dot.

Her departure was as slow and methodical as her arrival. She strode past Kiritsugu without sparing him a glance. He listened as her footsteps faded into the distance without relaxing for an instant, until his ears strained to make out the sound.

All at once the spell broke, and the crowd’s noise returned, almost shocking Kiritsugu into dropping the camera that his aching fingers had gripped tightly. He glanced at his watch. A good five minutes had passed. At the knowledge that this wasn’t any sort of time alteration, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Then a hand descended on his shoulder, and he almost dropped the camera again.

“What are you doing?” the young, female voice asked. For a minute he was sure it was Shirley, about to ask him some silly question about magecraft. Then the dream passed, he turned, and saw a pale, fair-haired girl that could’ve been mistaken for Natalia, minus a few years and a lifetime of hard decisions. “This is no place for a child.”

“I, uh…” Was the glamour gone? Had it been shattered by the dark lady?

The girl pursed her lips. “Give me your hand,” she said. “We’re getting out of here and then I’m taking you to your parents, where you belong.”

“But I-!” His protests went unheard. Her grip wasn’t exactly strong, but before he could do anything the girl had wormed her hand onto his and gently but firmly pushed through the crowd, taking him further from the scene of the crime.

In moments they were at the corner of the street, some distance from the milling crowd. No one paid them any mind. The girl panted in the heat, sweating lightly even through her sundress. Kiritsugu almost felt responsible. “Are you, uh, okay?” he asked.

“Perfect!” she straightened, with a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. “But you, little guy, are in big trouble!”

“Um.”

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to poke your nose into crime scenes? I know you like exploring, but you should’ve learned common sense by now. If you were walking through the woods and ran into a strange lady that asked you to dance with her, you wouldn’t say yes, would you?”

Kiritsugu could only nod.

“Exactly! You’d run in the other direction, maybe scream a little, and come back home with a crazy story to tell. Now there’s something big going on, I know, and you really, really want to know, but you can’t get in the nice police officers’ way. Okay?”

Kiritsugu nodded again.

The girl grinned, and let go of his hand. “Now, where are your parents?”

“Uh…”

He ran.

The girl called out something that Kiritsugu couldn’t hear, and he ran faster. He rounded a corner, ducked into an alley, and was soon lost in a maze of roads. Every time someone tried to stop him he ran. They weren’t people anymore; they were ghouls, and if anyone caught him they’d feast on his flesh and blood. He was back in Alimango, beset on all sides by danger and death.

The sun had set completely by the time he reached the hotel.




“Nothing we can do,” was Natalia’s conclusion to the information. She paced to and fro in their room as Kiritsugu lay curled up in a ball on the bed, trying not to shudder. “Our grandma’s a problem, but we have to ignore it. She didn’t notice you, so her detection abilities can’t be impressive. It’s a necessary risk.”

“Maybe she did see your boy,” Klaus said as he studied the negatives of the camera in a dark corner of the room. He’d develop them into pictures later. “He just wasn’t worth the effort to catch. There are reasons most Enforcers work alone. The moment you set foot out there, she’ll swoop down and have you locked up, or worse.”

Natalia scoffed. “And I’ll be ready for her if it happens. Look, we can keep this up for another hour, or you can stop pretending to care and tell me what I need to know so I can nab this guy while the night’s young. I’ll find him, this local magus won’t have reason to interfere, and we’ll be out of here before you can say ‘Crest in a Jar’.”

Klaus winced.

“That is what’s happening, isn’t it? Standard procedure.”

He began, “yes, but…” And then stopped. And sighed. “Yes. If I’m lucky, they’ll only remove the parts that earned the Designation, and give us back the rest.”

“Not that it matters to an Enforcer.”

“Of course.” Klaus retrieved the briefcase he’d carried into the room by his side, cleared the table, and placed it on top. He undid the clasps and flipped it open, revealing a multitude of jars and containers and compartments within. From these he withdrew a small, glass bottle.

He threw it to Natalia, who caught it without even a hint of a fumble. Within was a frozen insect the size of a child’s heart.

“This is one of my familiars,” said Klaus. “It’s specialized for tracking traces of prana in the atmosphere. It should help, though it may take some days to acclimatize itself to the surroundings.”

Natalia pocketed it. “Got any other tricks up your sleeve?”

“Plenty.” He closed the case and redid the latches. “But those are for when you fail. Tonight I’ll develop these pictures. Take the night to get used to the city, and try not to die. I never knew my brother to be a murderer. He must have changed for the worse since I last saw him.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she shot back. “Kiddo, you know how to get a hold of me. If this guy tries anything, feel free to lock the door and ignore him.”

Kiritsugu mumbled something that might have been a “Yes Ma’am.”

“Don’t trust me?” Klaus was amused by the exchange. He was packed up and ready to go.

“Not at all,” Natalia said with a twisted smile. “You’re just a terrible role model. Wouldn’t want any of it rubbing off on the kid.”

With that she was off, leaving the room door swinging open.

Klaus rose, took one look at Kiritsugu, who stared back at him with suspicious eyes. “Honestly…” he sighed. “It would be easier if he’d done something bigger, broken the masquerade so we could interfere overtly. Like this, we’ve been forced into a game of cat and mouse. Child, you should not have been brought into this world. Not by her.”

Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

[Alternative Ice]

It looks good. We got a SD stealing unborn children, a local magus who will probably attack Natalia on sight, and a partner who's not giving the full story, all the ingredients for a rank A clusterfuck.

My only criticism is that Kiritsugu seemed to just know the dead person's name about halfway through the chapter.

[Kirby]

It looks good. We got a SD stealing unborn children, a local magus who will probably attack Natalia on sight, and a partner who's not giving the full story, all the ingredients for a rank A clusterfuck.

My only criticism is that Kiritsugu seemed to just know the dead person's name about halfway through the chapter.

Eh, well...

Natalia followed his example, tracing out a sound-enhancing circle with one finger on the soft wood.

Voices drifted into the room from below, which happened to be the busy pub.

[snip]


“...it’s Gina. Oh, what’ll they say…”

So he probably just overheard the name through the locals. I mean, he already did, here.

[Alternative Ice]

So he probably just overheard the name through the locals. I mean, he already did, here.

Shit, forgot all about that. My bad.

[Rafflesiac]

And the tot plickens.

What's Weisse need children for? And how long until he goes for Kiritsugu?

[ItsaRandomUsername]

I see that the local magus is a practitioner of Dreamtime. My interest has been further piqued.

[Mattias]

Random helpful girl seems suspicious. The way she just appears reminds me of all the stories where the big villain/hero is pretending to be someone else to go incognito.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

As opposed to F/SN, where Kotomine's villanousness was refreshingly evident from the start! (unless you were blind in both eyes)

[Alternative Ice]

As opposed to F/SN, where Kotomine's villanousness was refreshingly evident from the start! (unless you were blind in both eyes)

He seemed like an okay guy at first.

[forumghost]

Did you also think Zouken was a good guy to begin with?

[Arashi_Leonhart]

As opposed to F/SN, where Kotomine's villanousness was refreshingly evident from the start! (unless you were blind in both eyes)

Well, I mean, I overthought it initially, saying to myself "There's no way he's a major villain, they were way too obvious with that upfront, but maybe that's what they want me to think..."

[Alternative Ice]

Did you also think Zouken was a good guy to begin with?

No, by then I had figured out that everyone in F/sn was going to try to kill me at some point or another.

[Bloble]

Five



"Don't get carried away."

"With what?"

"Anything. Perspective ain't hindsight, but it's close enough."

Triumph was like alcohol. After one, fear was muted and bravery came to the fore. After two, a precedent was established, and more appeared around every corner. After several, the drinker was afflicted with a bad case of foolhardiness and overconfidence. Natalia wasn't either. She was a realist and tended not to trouble herself with nonsense. She also rarely allowed herself to enjoy triumph, but today, she decided, she'd earned it.

"You're good," she repeated to herself. "But I'm better."

The blood sample was burning a hole in her pocket. She needed to get it back to Klaus for analysis, before their first real lead evaporated. Another week of fruitless searching wouldn't be good for anyone.

She put triumph on the back burner and focused.

The world returned as Natalia snapped out of her tension-induced tunnel vision. Details discarded as irrelevant intruded on her senses. The smell of gasoline and urine. The heat of the sun pouring down on her. The rough feel of brick under her hand as she found herself leaning against the wall, breathing hard as she came off the runner's high that had brought her this far.

Most importantly, the tone of the parading crowd. Earlier she'd assumed it was a generic celebration, but now she knew it to be more. These people weren't happy; they were horrified.

The decision of whether to retreat or press forward was made in an instant. She pushed her way out of the alley, slipping through pressed-together bodies. Their words melded together in her ears, clearing as the blood stopped pounding through her head.

She caught snippets: Again. Terrible. Why? Who?

As she came to the front of the crowd, Natalia recognized the familiar location. Her mental map must've been off; she hadn't even realized that Spielmann had taken her in a circle until Sunny's Diner was staring her in the face.

Sunny, on the other hand, wasn't looking at anything but the sky.

"Get back," one older man whispered to his daughter or younger wife. "Police‘ll be here soon."

"And do what?" his companion hissed, half-hysterical. "Cover things up and pretend they've done nothing to stop it? It's the fifth one this week!"

"Carry..."

"We're going, Bill. I can't live in the same town as a serial killer."

That, and a dozen other exchanges spun around Natalia's head as she stared at the body. It lay in a crumpled heap, half-through its own door. Sunny had been a large woman that filled the diner with her warm presence; she was smaller now, her arms and legs and spine compacted. Natalia could imagine the sounds Sunny had made as her body was twisted apart, but she didn't want to.

All the freelancer could think was: How?

How had he done it? She'd been right on Spielmann's tail the whole time. She'd only been running for five minutes at most, and when he left Natalia's sight the crowd had already gathered. Somehow, in those five minutes, the murderer had struck again. It couldn't have been poison or a delayed spell that caused it, not after Natalia herself had seen the place. The murderer had physically arrived there and done the deed in person.

Yes, Natalia realized, as a familiar sinking feeling established its place in her gut. The murderer. Not Spielmann. They couldn't possibly be the same person. The whole basis of her investigation had just been rendered invalid.

Klaus had either been lying to her, or was an idiot. Assuming the latter wasn't possible, her so called 'partner' was a bastard that hadn't revealed critical information. The existence of an accomplice to Weisse's crimes meant they'd have to handle the hunt in a completely different manner, with more care and less reckless investigation.

Natalia took one step back to return to the alley, and froze. Something pressed against her back.

"Don't move."

A warmth settled behind her. A human body. An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her coat shut so she couldn't get at her gun. Survival instincts clashed with human knowledge, and lost. She kept still, fighting off the urge to spin in place and kick someone's head off.

They were pressed flush together now. Only the barrel of the gun grinding against Natalia's spine reminded her that this wasn't a lover's embrace. Someone breathed into her ear.

"Leave town," he said. The accent was heavier than Klaus', but the voice lighter. More weary. "You won't catch me. You can't kill me. Go back to London. Tell the Association I'm not worth it. Or I'll tell the same to the next fool they send here."

For an instant, all was silent. The noise of the crowd had faded.

"So you're staying," Natalia replied. "Good to know. Next time they'll send a demolitions expert instead of a rat catcher."

He stilled. She'd scored an easy hit.

"Here's what's happening, Weisse Spielmann," she continued. The gun to Natalia's back might as well have not existed. "You're trapped in a cage because you were dumb enough to make an extended pitstop in the middle of nowhere. There's a boundary field around this place that'll stop you from running off, and with every person you kill, the noose around your neck gets tighter."

"What about the noose around your neck?" he hissed, and jammed the gun into her spine to shut her up. Natalia ignored the pain and kept talking, staring at Sunny's corpse as she spoke.

"You're fucked. You've been fucked since you got Designated. Probably fucked even before that, when you decided to poke your nose where it didn't belong. Everything you do only fucks you harder. Running here, staying here, and then deciding to ape Jack the Ripper; all of it is giving you the biggest, hardest fucking you've ever gotten. I'm betting it hurts, but no matter what, you can't un-fuck yourself, and it's only gonna get worse."

"And if I shot you right here, right now?" he hissed. "If I put a bullet through your skull? I could be gone before the crowd has time to remember my face, and you'd be just another death."

"You could," Natalia said. "But it wouldn't help. See: I'm a gentle fucker. Oh, I'll fuck you just like the rest, but I'll make it nice. Wine and dine you. Treat you right and proper beforehand. No mutilation, no torture, just business. I'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear as I hand you to the Association. Maybe put in a nice word if they bother to listen. 'Cus to me you're a paycheck, and I wanna do a good job."

She had a Derringer in a shoulder holster. The Colt in her jacket. A combat knife in her left boot. All unreachable. Even so, Natalia wasn't particularly worried. The short exchange had been enough to come to a conclusion: Weisse was a complete amateur.

"So if you want it hard and rough, go ahead and shoot. Your brother won't be as nice."

The barrel of the gun shuddered. Natalia chuckled. It was almost too easy.

"That's what I thought. Now let's talk shop. You give yourself up. Hand over the gun, and realize it's impossible to run forever. The Association's too powerful to evade. You do that and I bring you back in one piece. No more bullets where you don't want them." He was wavering, and she could feel it. Just a bit more, and he'd break right there.

He was on the edge, so Natalia threw Spielmann one more bone to tip it her way.

"Like that buddy of yours," she said. "They're after you, but no one gives a damn that you've got a helper. Surrender now and they won't have to-."

Something exploded in her back.

A terrifying numbness blossomed out from where the gun had been, followed shortly by pain that radiated down, towards the tips of her toes. In an instant his presence retreated, and Natalia fell like a puppet with its strings severed. Weisse's parting words were muffled by the ringing in her ears, and then he was gone. It that was the last indication of his presence before she was alone in the middle of a crowd, with all eyes on her.

With her ears ringing, there was a moment of the silence that turned into a cacophony.

She tuned out the words, asking if she was okay, inquiring as to what had happened, or threatening to call the cops. Natalia caught her fall with both hands as her lower body's strength disappeared. She was on her stomach, her back up and face in the metaphorical dirt. She grit her teeth, held back a scream, and lifted her right hand, bringing it to the wound.

The pain doubled as she forced a finger inside, feeling around carelessly. There was blood aplenty. The bullet had made it through her reinforced jacket and gotten caught between the base of her two lowest ribs, tangling in the muscle. The paralysis would hopefully only be temporary. Her finger brushed against the twisted bullet, pushing it against a nerve and sending a spasm through her legs.

As she withdrew, a thick hand closed around her forearm. Natalia almost panicked then and there, before realizing it could only be a concerned citizen. She jerked her wrist away, breaking the unseen man's grip and bringing her hands forward. She clapped them together inches from her face.

The crowd surged as one. She was a bleeding pig in the ocean, about to be devoured. She struggled, forming a pair of dirty magical circles on the palms of her hands, using her own blood.

Then Natalia held out her hands and screamed an unintelligible word.

The crowd stopped, transfixed, and stayed that way.

It felt like an eternity, but must've been seconds. Ringed on all sides by locals and plagued by a wound that could've been fatal an inch to the left, Natalia pushed herself up, slowly and painfully. Moving her legs sent lightning bolts of pain between her head and the bullet hole, but she stood at last, buoyed by determination and anger.

The crowd was hypnotized. At least, the ones that could see her. There were confused voices outside the ring of observers, but they could be ignored.

"There was a man here," Natalia began, and then her throat seized as the pain caught up to her. Breathing shifted her diaphragm and ribs, which jostled the tangled bullet and battered her body. "He was short," she said after a pause. "Dark. Couldn't speak English. He was lost and asked for directions. That's it."

The people nodded with blank eyes.

Natalia passed a trembling hand over the hole in her jacket, repairing it with what little magecraft she could muster, hiding traces of a wound. She shoved her left hand into her coat, clutching her ribs for support, and so she could draw and fire in case Weisse returned.

With that finished, Natalia hunched her head and pushed through the stunned throng. Her breaths were quick and shallow and no one got in her way. She stumbled into the alley she'd emerged from, turned the corner, made sure no one was following, and then collapsed against the wall. With one bloodied hand she traced out a hasty warding circle on the wall, to keep the remaining civilians away. The other fumbled for the radio with and set it to the proper frequency.

"Kid," she said. "You better not be slacking."

The moment she let go, the radio crackled to life. "Here," the boy said. "What's wrong? You said this line was for emergencies."

Natalia pressed the button. "Yes. Now shut up and listen." She let go and stopped, taking a second to gather up her strength. Kiritsugu was silent on the other end. "...go and tell Klaus I'm in trouble. This frequency doesn't exist; I gave you a tracking stone that tells you my condition, and it just cracked in half. Say nothing else and stay where you are. He'll find me."

"Okay."

"Atta boy."

Natalia lowered the radio. Before she turned it off, one last message came through: "Don't die. It'd be a waste."

She got half of a laugh out before her back seized up from the motion. She pocketed the radio and scanned her surroundings again before slipping her heavy jacket off, to get at the wound proper.

It was in an awkward position. Just moving her arm too far pulled on the wrong muscles, and it was a stretch just to reach the injury. There wasn't too much bleeding, thankfully, but it would be a literal pain in her back until she could get the bullet out, which wasn't a good idea in a public location. She'd have to grin and bear it all the way back to the hotel, if she could even get that far on her own.

It was a hot day, and the shade of the alley didn't make it any cooler. Black Spot was a small enough place that no buildings boasted more than two floors, and Natalia could clearly see the blue sky above her. She didn't hate the town, but in the week she'd spent there, she wasn't able to grow used to it. It was idyllic in many ways, but in others, it was just off. People had gotten over the murders too quickly. She'd been in similar situations before, enough to know that villages like this one didn't handle such things easily. The local magus... what was she doing now? Watching over her plight and snacking on some popcorn?

"Natalia!"

She blinked. Her eyes had been shut. She was slumped against the wall, her whole back a throbbing mess. Looking up, she spotted a small form running towards her.

It was Kiritsugu. The boy was panting and sweating and a complete mess. The shirt she'd given him was soaked and torn, his hair pale and glistening. He looked almost as bad as her.

"Are you alright?" he was by her side in a second, putting a hand on her shoulder. "This is terrible..."

"'m fine," she slurred, head aching in the heat. "Kid, why are you...?"

"I couldn't leave you alone!" he said, more passionate than she'd heard him in months. "Hold on, I've got a first aid kit somewhere..."

"Don't worry," she cut him off, wincing as she straightened. "I've got one. In the jacket." She reached into her coat. Kiritsugu waited silently for her instructions.

Natalia pulled out the Derringer and shoved it under Kiritsugu's chin. He went still, eyes wide.

"How did you know?" he breathed.

"The kid always listens to me. Now who the hell are you?"

Kiritsugu relaxed. The colour drained from his hair until it was as pale as Natalia's. "I should be your closest ally," he murmured. "But now..."

He smiled, and it wasn't Kiritsugu's smile. It was the same one Natalia saw in the mirror on a good morning.

"I'm nobody at all."

[ItsaRandomUsername]

I can tell that a good bit of tender loving care went into making Natalia's 'fucked' speech. That and the introductory paragraph.

[Frostyvale]

I can tell that a good bit of tender loving care went into making Natalia's 'fucked' speech. That and the introductory paragraph.

Quite agreed. It was a delight to read.

I especially liked the subtle changes in Weisse's behavior leading up the moment when Natalia said a bit too much. I think you've hit your stride in this story, Bloble.

[Mattias]

We now have shape-shifter. Commence incessant second guessing for the rest of the fic. Question everything.

[Bloble]

Six



"The best of the best are the ones that take that overcooked steak and make something worthwhile out of it."

Though Natalia was in every position of power over the false Kiritsugu, she couldn't relax. Her instincts told her otherwise: This person was humouring her.

"You're not saying anything," the impostor noted, tilting his head, watching as the gun stuck to the soft part of his jaw followed. "What's wrong? I'm the one in trouble, right?"

Wrong. Natalia glanced down. She hadn't missed that the boy's hand was on her bared stomach. Five fingers pressed against her skin. From there, she knew dozens of ways to kill someone. Hundreds if she included magecraft. How many did he?

When her gaze came back up, 'he' had stopped being a valid descriptor.

It really was like staring into a mirror. Her younger self looked right back, sporting that same cocky grin and mischievous eyes, before they'd been worn down by years of dirty work.

"Do you ever wonder," began the murderer. "Where it all went wrong?" She took a step forward and promptly sat on Natalia's legs, ignoring the gun being jammed into her neck. The distance between them was almost nothing. "Where you got soft? Where you started losing your touch?"

Fire. Shoot. Blow her brains out. Natalia knew what to do, but couldn't bring herself to shoot, because if it didn't work...

"It's because you're old," the doppelganger said. "Dying. Been doing this for too long. We have that in common. But babysitting Master, well, it's enough to keep me sharp."

"He's fucked," Natalia said, for lack of anything better. "If you've got any brains, you'll get out of here."

"If only it were so simple," said the doppelganger, with that same smile. "Are you going to shoot me? I wouldn't recommend it. That gun you're fingering has two shots, and neither one is powerful enough to do significant damage, even from that angle."

Natalia's hand didn't waver. "You sure about that?"

"No," said the impostor, easily, lightly. "Actually, I was false. You may very well end me. But I'm resilient. Dying will take some time. Enough to settle the score, as you would say. Would you like to perform such a trade? Master would happily accept."

Another pause.

"That's a lie, by the way."

It was completely different. They boy had been terrified, even while in a position of power. Now, stuck in a face-off, this new beast completely lacked fear. Natalia considered herself a decent judge of character, but she could only be certain of one thing: This thing wasn't human.

"Oh, I'm not a vampire," Natalia's twin said. It pressed up against her, breathing into Natalia's ear and wrapping her arms around the larger woman's shoulders. It was an impossible embrace no person would ever try. Not with a gun to their head. "Do I seem undead to you?"

She was warm. It was warm. Breathing. Living. And yet, immeasurably light.

"Get... off..." was all Natalia could say. There was no power in her hands. She wasn't sure if she even had the strength to pull the trigger.

"Eventually," said the impostor. "But first... that's a painful wound, isn't it? I apologize. Master was frightened. He panicked, and sent me here after failing. So soon after his last order, too..."

"Gonna try and off me like you did that diner lady?" Natalia grunted. "That was some piece of work."

"Oh, it was terrible," they agreed. The two separated, the smaller girl climbing off and dancing back. Natalia allowed it, keeping her gun trained on the shapeshifter's forehead. At this distance she wouldn't miss, if she could only bring herself to fire somehow. "But that's Master for you. Please don't judge too harshly. He's trapped and surrounded by enemies on all sides. Not an environment ideal for rational thinking, wouldn't you agree? I've already forgiven him."

It was infuriating. Not only the face and body, but the voice, too. Hearing herself so cheerful was worse than any guttural growling or twisted monstrosity.

The false Natalia giggled. Giggled! The obvious fakeness of her actions somehow looped back into sincerity. She was honestly taking pleasure in such a pathetic performance.

"Oops," she said. "I lied again."

Natalia's shaking arm stilled. It was something she hadn't expected. In all her years, she'd never seen a familiar and its master with such a disconnect. Was it some kind of ploy? Or was this terrifying thing actually offering something?

"You killed those women," she said. "Not just this one."

The murderer tilted her head, staring at Natalia with something approaching curiosity. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "That's not who I am. I'm a helper. A guide to those in need." And this Natalia knew to be truth, or at least a single perspective on it. In any case, she'd be trusting the words of a murderer.

"Speak," Natalia said. "It's only your Master I want."

"Oh, I know!" the girl was younger, now, her white hair longer and down to her neck. Natalia had worn it in a ponytail so it didn't get in the way, but now it danced freely as hers never had. "And so does he. He's very scared of you. And Klaus. He's scared of everyone. Except me."

"Should he be?"

The girl shrugged. "Paranoia is indiscriminate. Perhaps some mistrust would be more appropriate. Only a child is ever truly beyond suspicion."

"What you look like doesn't mean jack."

The young girl paused, her face rounder, softer now. "But it does. Isn't this how you perceive me?"

Kill her, Natalia's mind told her. Shoot. Forget about talking. Each word here is damning you further. Fire. Blow that bitch's brains out before she melts you with those half-assed lines. End it.

Don't, her other mind said. She's had you at her mercy this entire time. Keep stalling. Klaus will be here soon. He'll bail you out.

"Now," began the girl, not even in her tenth year of life. "Before this perception vanishes altogether, and you are guided to your beginning... in the time I have left, let us speak and understand each other. Let us dispense with hostilities and come to a conclusion without such menial violence."

"Fuck that," said Natalia, and squeezed the trigger.

Klaus Spielmann collapsed backwards, gurgling as he clutched at the hole in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, and out bubbled his lifeblood. He braced against the wall with one hand and tried frantically to stem the bleeding with the other. It was useless. The gun had punctured an artery; blood gushed out in time with his hastening heartbeat.

"Traitor," he gasped, fumbling with something in his pocket even as he glared knives into Natalia.

For a moment she paused. Her stomach sank. She knew without a doubt that she'd fucked up somehow.

Then she re-cocked the Derringer and shot him in the face.

Kiritsugu didn't even pretend to be winded. He dove towards Natalia, blood streaming from holes in his chest and face, his one good eye wide open and accusing her with absolute hatred.

Natalia stood up and felt something tear in her back. She ignored it, ducked and raised her right leg, and roundhouse kicked her ward into the brick wall she'd been bleeding on.

There was a sickening crack as flesh met brick and the latter didn't even budge. But Natalia was the one to collapse, feeling the bones in her foot fracture from the foolish strike. Kiritsugu was gone and she was on her knees again.

Her head snapped up and she saw something at the end of the alley. A silhouette, shadowed slightly by the strong sun. Not someone she recognized. Not something born from any of her memories. It moved. She glimpsed a flash of something inhuman extending from the small of its back: a flattened, furry tail. And then it was gone and she was alone again.

In an instant, triumph became despair became grim determination. This wasn't a failure; just a setback. The weathered Freelancer moved on autopilot, standing tall and gathering strength to leap up the roof after the new target. But her legs were weak and there was no strength to be found. She collapsed against the side of the building again, feeling bones grind against each other in her back. It'd been too much, too soon, and her wound had worsened.

To make matters worse, a bright light shined into her eyes from both ends of the alley, accompanied by a gaggle of voices. Her ward was gone.

She'd been in worse situations and lived, Natalia told herself, but she knew it was a lie.

"Surrender," came the voice that rose above the rest. "You made a mistake, Freelancer."

"I can still move," she called out, on reflex.

"And still err, yes." Blocking the lights was a woman Natalia had never seen, but had heard a description of: the native Magus of Black Spot. "Best to quit while still in the black."

Amidst the buzz of people talking and the unbearable lights on her face, Natalia's mind was drowned out by the sound of her own blood, rushing through her body. It was overpowering.

She stood, her body creaking and face twisted up. For a moment it seemed as if she would succeed; then her legs folded. Their strength wasn't enough to carry her anymore.

"Ma'am," came a muffled voice, from behind the native Magus. "You might wanna step back. She's gonna go off like a frog in a sock."

But the Magus did not move, merely staring at Natalia, as if challenging her to stand.

So Natalia did. She focused prana into her arm and thrust it through the brick as if it was wet sand. Then, with a hideous crunching, she pulled herself up.

"This isn't one of your war zones," said the Magus. "Black Spot is a peaceful town, far from the your evil society. Even if you escaped, nothing would come of it. You had your chance, and you wasted it. Don't throw away another."

Natalia said nothing.

The Magus took another step forward, and then another, against the warnings of those behind. She stopped facing Natalia, who could barely keep herself up, let alone spit out a word of defiance.

"I understand," said the Magus softly. "Then, if you shall not yield, rest."

She reached out, and with a single thin, wrinkled finger, touched the Freelancer's forehead.

Natalia slept.

Natalia dreamed.

--------------------------------

"I've got a question for you."

The bed wasn't anywhere near comfortable, but it wasn't the cold, plastic chair Natalia had expected. The room itself could've been a ground floor rest area in a hospital or clinic, with gently-patterned, peeling wallpaper adorning the walls and a window with heavy curtains drawn over it. No two-way mirrors leering at her, and no cameras nestled in the corners. Just a thin bed, a table with a plate of undercooked eggs and burnt bacon, and an old black and white television in the corner, so inert it was impossible to tell if it even worked.

And the Magus, of course. The old woman had shed her poncho and the majority of her get-up, and sat in a rumpled white dress shirt and pants, hands on her knees as she leaned forward over Natalia, who couldn't move without her back threatening to explode. In fact, her entire body seemed to have stiffened, like the rigidity that comes with deep sleep, but more persistent.

"A few questions," continued the woman, crumbling some bread and tossing it in among the scrambled eggs. Her voice seemed to penetrate Natalia’s mind, as if she wasn’t quite hearing at as it was meant to be heard. "How many, I’m not sure. Depends on the person. But I will ask."

Natalia's silence was enough of an answer. The Freelancer may have been awake and helpless and an invalid, but she still had the pride of a magus.

"Before that, an introduction. I won’t tell you my real name; you can call me Bird, if you want."

Natalia said nothing.

"First: Why are you here?"

Silence.

"The second: Who exactly do you seek?"

More silence.

"Third: Where are you?"

It was the most lax interrogation Natalia had been part of. Bird gave enough time between questions for an answer, even staring expectantly at her prisoner, but with each quiet denial she continued, unperturbed, as if going down the list. Her voice was quiet but strong, as if saying it didn't need to be loud or intimidating to get a point across.

"There is a purpose," Bird said. "You think you deny me answers. That’s not the case."

Natalia blanked out her mind. She activated any and all mental shields she could faintly remember, coming just short of cycling her already stressed circuits.

Bird laughed, a short, harsh thing. "No. I can't read your mind. Nor your eyes and face. You have answers, but they are for you alone. Sharing is optional, but I’ll give you mine."

"First: you are here to capture or kill on behalf of your Association. Not a person, but knowledge they say he cannot have. You are here for money. A contractor. No personal ties and no stake. It shows," Bird explained. "You care nothing for Black Spot. Only a week, and your movements are sloppy. Impatience. You are green, girl."

A pit formed in Natalia's stomach. A hole filled with rage, threatening to burst. She said nothing, but met Bird's eyes, not challenging or submitting, but merely watching as she always did.

"Secondly: you seek a man. Nothing more. This is your answer. A dead, starving answer. You sought not to learn, only wanting results." Bird shook her head. "A lapse in judgement, without cause. But on that note..."

Bird paused. She picked up the plate of food and a plastic spork, and threw some scrambled eggs into her mouth without a single shred of manners or self awareness. She continued, chewing on her bite for a full minute before swallowing. She replaced the plate, gulped down some liquid from a metal hip flask, fished into a pocket to check the time on a rusted brass watch, and then turned to Natalia again.

"Now... third, yes. Where are you, girl? Speak, if you wish. Words won’t kill you. Maybe even help. You will not have to listen to me. One-sided conversations are difficult-."

“Window.”

Bird tilted her head, eyes sparkling with humour. “Hm?”

“Open it. This air is stale.”

Bird complied, pulling back the curtains and sliding a window pane up to reveal the outside. The sun wasn’t facing the building, and the new air was indeed fairer, but a glimpse of clear skies and rusty green outside told enough of a story. A bird perched on the window sill, cocking its head and staring at the plate of food.

"Black Spot," said Natalia. "Some hedge witch's workshop. Middle of fucking nowhere."

"Small town," said Bird, completely ignoring Natalia's words. "That’s right. The middle of fucking nowhere." The way she swore was different. Most put emphasis on those words; Bird simply said them as if they were nothing special. "But you think it’s some lawless playground where the strongest rule and people are distractions."

"Is it?"

"No." Bird stood. "See," she said. "This place is built on Law. Law that keeps this town alive, keeps the people happy, keeps it quiet and peaceful, for a greater purpose. Law that wasn’t made to be broken by outsiders like you.”

Bird stared down at Natalia with fire in her eyes. The collar of her dress shirt was crooked, and there were traces of dust and sand on her face. But she was proud, and fearsome.

"And this Law... the Second Owner of Black Spot shall enforce it."