Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)
Fifteen minutes before facing down a pack of ethereal bloodhounds, Michael Blackmore had been mildly embarrassed.
Standing before a cozy house carrying a case and wearing a bow tie doomed to fail at its task of making him approachable, he could've been mistaken for an enthusiastic door to door salesman. As he bumbled through introductions, waiting too long to ring the bell, mistaking Erika's unmentioned roommate for a Servant (“Jeez, that wasn’t what I expected at all!” she'd said, laughing mischievously as Caster materialized beside her), and committing fashion faux pas of the utmost degree, a blush had slowly built up, coloring his cheeks a bright pink.
Michael left Erika's home seemingly off-balance, a fact not helped by her blasé attitude towards their mission. The party of four was an odd one. Caster was bubbly and cheerful, examining everything as if she were a tourist in a foreign land, but her Master was all business, despite wearing a sweater frumpy enough to get her thrown out of any job interview. Archer was Archer, of course. The further they distanced themselves from that cheerful home, surrounded by fuzzy spirits, the more Michael's embarrassment faded. There was a time for humanity, and this wasn't it. That luxury was reserved only for...
“Right. Mr. Blackmore, you do know that anyone could find your base of operations with little effort?”
The question, thrown out of left field as Erika explained the plan, should have been a jab to the side of the Enforcer. Here he was, being lectured by a near-civilian over his unprofessional preparation. Yet, the hit that should've landed was met with a smile instead.
There was no need, he said, and she raised an eyebrow. Michael had never attended a single lecture in the Clock Tower, but he was sure that Erika was good at her job. “Is that really what an Enforcer should say?” she asked.
He nodded. Of this, he was sure.
“Miss Kanzaki," Michael said. "From what would an Enforcer need to hide? I make my living chasing those who have been Sealed. Were I to have any enemies, they would seek to flee from me, not get closer. ...well, that’s what I’d like to say, but the truth is I’m just a poor excuse for a magus. My housemate put up a field to keep the solicitors away, but it was keyed to his signature. Since I sent him away, it must’ve gone down in his absence.”
It must've disappointed her in some way. Michael knew of how magi thought, yet he couldn't truly understand them. But even he could see the gears turning in Erika's mind, trying to reclassify his behaviour. Safety, security, secrecy. Those were prized by magi, but he had little use for them. An Enforcer's job was to discard such things. Was he a fool, or did he have something to back up his actions?
She could wonder, he decided. After all, he asked himself that question every day.
The question he was asking himself now, though, was a bit different.
Is she insane?
He hadn't imagined it. He was sure he hadn't imagined the look in her eyes in that lecture hall. The resignation. The fear, barely concealed. The grim realization that she'd been drafted into an unjust war. Kanzaki Erika was a victim of circumstance, so...
Why was she so willing to risk her life?
“...Miss Kanzaki," he said, in response to her insane plan. "It’s December.”
She shrugged. “I’ll be fine? Most likely, I think.”
“You…” No, he wasn’t imagining it. That gung-ho attitude was either genuine, or a front. Either way, it was no good. “That’s far too dangerous!" Let him be the one to fight. It was his job, the whole reason he'd agreed to her plan.
But, Michael found himself outnumbered. Caster, even Archer, both accepted the girl's proposal without batting an eye.
Did they not see? Did they not understand what they were letting her do?
“Archer, she’s a noncombatant. She - you…”
“That’s what we’re for, no?” Caster blinked, smiling at Michael. At some point, he'd drawn the strange Servant's attention. Her eyes, one mechanical and one bright with cheer, stared through him. She puffed her chest, holding one gloved hand to her heart. “I may not be much for combat, Mister Michael, but I don’t intend to leave my companion in danger all the same.”
Michael sighed. It wasn’t the sound of deflating ego, but rather, a grim admittance of the truth. The night, interrupted only by the odd streetlight, felt colder than ever.
“Miss Kanzaki, you shouldn’t even be out here in the first place. You understand that, don’t you?”
He'd hope to avoid a direct confrontation. It was the height of rudeness, and were he the Michael of before, he'd be too bashful to speak. But he'd left his mild-mannered self in the car. This was war, and in war, one needed more than a weapon to fight.
“...I shouldn’t," was her measured reply. "But I am. My fate was sealed when I summoned Caster, you know. It’s not like there are any options, are there? Do you want me to sit around and let everyone else put their lives at risk?”
“I wouldn’t hold it against you if you did just that. But you won’t, will you?” Perhaps what had frustrated Michael the most over the past several minutes wasn’t Erika’s unfair involvement in the war: it had been her wholehearted acceptance of that injustice. She could have shed crocodile tears, hid behind him, and distanced herself as from the danger as much as possible, and he would have been glad for it.
Instead, she had been brave.
“We’re all victims, aren’t we? And in the end, I made the decision to summon a Servant of my own. Doing that but refusing to put even a finger of effort to help her achieve her wish… I’m not that cruel.”
Michael shook his head. Green. Still green. Both him and her, in different ways. “Nobody who chooses to fight is a victim. Whether that choice was made years ago, or just now. Miss Kanzaki, if you want to fight, you’ll have to be cruel. Cruel enough to step over someone else’s dream. Can you do so?”
“...You’d be surprised.” Her voice taking a much softer tone than normal, Erika glanced at the cloud-ridden sky, where both smog and nature obscured the stars that lay beyond. “I haven’t stopped climbing the Clock Tower ladder out of lack of ambition. If I could… I’d trample over everything until I was content.”
“But that’s a dream, and this is reality.” A faint smile appeared on the corner of her lips, but her steps are as precise as they’ve been the entire time. “There might be things I’ll hesitate to step on and things I’ll gladly crush beneath my feet. But in the end, if it’s them or I, there’s really only one choice.”
“I really hate losing, you see.”
“...I understand.” It was a bitter feeling, but preferable to the self-righteous urge from earlier. Michael picked up his pace to match Erika’s. They had a job to do, and wishes to devour.
In a way, he envied her selfishness, even if he couldn't respect it. He had been wrong. She was a true Magus after all. That cold resolve in her eyes... he still couldn't understand it. Nor did he want to.
Bitterly, Michael admitted defeat.
“Tonight, you too are a dog of the Association.”