A Stolen Heart

[Sherrinford]

So, basically, the only one who dies is Sakura, and everyone else (excluding the killers) is just fine?

Everyone: "... well, after all everything turned out fine, in the end. The evil ones are dead, the good are alive - kind of, but still -"
Archer: "what about Sakura?"
Everyone: "eh, sucks to be her"

Black humour...

Nah, Rin's alive and well.

One bullet shot, one bullet between Shirou's eyes.

=3= what a pity, for a moment I imagined an even more dark ending...

Also, I'm thinking of starting a 6th Grail War project. Lotsa research on this one. And building a mage-centric metropolis from the ground up to serve as background isn't easy either.

Sounds promising... I asked because, as Elf pointed out, in case you find yourself in some kind of writer's block, this AU you created can spawn very good spin-off...

... but whatever, onto the 6th Heaven's Feel!

[Aladar]

So, basically, the only one who dies is Sakura, and everyone else (excluding the killers) is just fine?

Well, excluding that Lancer mistakenly killed Bazett, his one true love, with his own hands, hands he doesn't even have anymore, yeah, nearly everyone survived. Well, except Uryuu, who was an extremist but honestly wanted to atone with the only way he knew how. And Berserker, who was jsut there on Illya's orders and ended up getting stabbed to death, bled to death, was shot to death, got his heart torn out and it the end was burned into crisps. Oh, and Assassin, who just wanted to reclaim his honor by killing the one who killed his contractor but ended up getting his heart torn and even then still tried to warn Lancer about TA's true identity.

How exactly 'everyone else excluding Sakura and the killers is fine' kinda eludes me, y'know.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

What about Heracles and Kojiro?

Proof Mike didn't really read as thoroughly as he could have.

[Mike1984]

Proof Mike didn't really read as thoroughly as he could have.

No, I won't deny that. I tend not to be overly enthusiastic about reading stories which start with Sakura being brutally murdered and spend most of the time trashing her reputation posthumously....

[Aladar]

First of all, there isn't a single character who appears in more than two scenes (and even then it's no foolproof) that doesn't get some reputation trashing. In this fic, there's no good 'good' people.

And, honestly Mike, you could've checked how many people die and in what kind of gruesome ways before you make claims like that.

[Mike1984]

First of all, there isn't a single character who appears in more than two scenes (and even then it's no foolproof) that doesn't get some reputation trashing. In this fic, there's no good 'good' people.

True, but the rest of those characters don't die brutally in the fucking prologue.

And, honestly Mike, you could've checked how many people die and in what kind of gruesome ways before you make claims like that.

Well, it's still not that many, and it's certainly none of the other main characters.

[Aladar]

Uhm, the only main character is Lancer. Everybody else appears in 2 to 3 chapters max and only in several scenes. And it's not like he gets out unscathed.

And what about Bazett? She died only because Kirei drugged her, brainwashed her and sued her for years. I consider this worse than being killed off quickly in the prologue. There's a seven year gap between Bazett's 'death' and the events taking place in this fic. Seven effing years.

[Mike1984]

Uhm, the only main character is Lancer. Everybody else appears in 2 to 3 chapters max and only in several scenes. And it's not like he gets out unscathed.

I meant main characters of FSN, not of this fic.

And what about Bazett? She died only because Kirei drugged her, brainwashed her and sued her for years. I consider this worse than being killed off quickly in the prologue. There's a seven year gap between Bazett's 'death' and the events taking place in this fic. Seven effing years.

Well, perhaps, but Sakura is still being treated pretty shittily.

[Aladar]

Well, I would understand complaining if it was only Sakura being treated badly but frankly, quite a few others are treated in such a way as well and some, like Bazett, have it far worse.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Sakura discussion? o__0

[Altima of the Gates]

This has been alright, though, if the killer was anyone but Shirou I would have been really surprised, it was a tad predictable. But good job.

[Komrade Kwestions]

Well, Shirou certainly did something stupid, just not what I thought
And it was all Kotomine's fault. Even though Gilgamesh wasn't involved

Being half-right is fine, too.

Moral of the Story: Don't do drugs, or you'll go insane, kill your fiance, and get shot by your brother.

[Alulim]

Expected Shirou to be the killer.


Didn't expect him to go all Avenger-crazy, tatoos and all.

[Aladar]

Epilogue:

Of A Circle Yet Unbroken

Around six months had passed since the ‘Heartbreak murders’- a name so imaginative that probably some monkey slapping away on a typing machine had come up with it in a fit of hungry rage, disturbed by the lack of fresh bananas in the winter. The media, proving themselves to be every bit the carcass-loving vultures we just knew they were, swarmed all over the story. No matter how much the Commissioner tried, even with his little reporter lass helping him, he couldn’t put out the wildfire of misinformation and overblown lies. Headlines like ‘Tokiomi Tohsaka Secretly Swaps Himself With The Killer’ and ‘Hearts Of Victims Replaced With Candy’ certainly proved that the journalists of today either had too much time on their hands or needed to go check their heads. Still, no matter how much I hated the media leeches, some of them even daring to barge into my house and ask questions, I somewhat understood their almost psychopathic zealously concerning the case. Well, almost. A bit.


After all, even in this city of sins, these mysterious to the public murders rivaled the Asagami Academy’s killings of 1954 in sheer mindfuck and gruesomeness. Of course, with the victims and villains both being exposed to the public, the media wanted to have a hero, too. Velvet, bastard that he was, milked my role in the revealing of the culprits for all it was worth. Thankfully, after I sent the seventh intrepid nerd that knocked on my door back with his camera smashed into his head, the newspaper gave up. Of sending reporters to interview me that is- my presence on the pages of the newspapers themselves only increased tenfold, now even telling tales of my ‘overly violent and highly suspicious anger management problems’. Also, I was apparently in a heated secret relationship with a certain silver-haired former colleague of mine. The reporter’s car was found two days later, lacking the tires, somewhat roofless, with its engine on fire, what was left of the windows jammed into the driver’s seat along with a note that said ‘sit here, dipstick’ and with the steering wheel somehow fit inside the exhaust pipe.

For reasons unknown my name had become somewhat of a rarity in newspapers ever since then.

Needless to say, the Commissioner’s attempt at buying me off failed spectacularly. At least the amount of money had been a decent one, probably more than I could make in ten years. But deluding himself that I’d bend over because of a new shiny medal made me question Velvet’s grip on reality. Try as I might, I couldn’t find a logical reason he wouldn’t remember that I had outgrown my interest in badges of the shiny, official kind after I had jammed my police one halfway through his desk. And so had started my frequent, almost daily sometimes, visits of the court where I had learned to hate bureaucracy even more and found out that lawyers as a whole could easily take the top spot on my ‘Guys I Want To Give A Free Face Rearrangement’ list.

Still, apparently even the corrupt ‘official’ leaders of this darn city had had enough of the mafia and Kiritsugu’s company running things in town. Probably skipping around like little schoolgirls behind closed doors, the city’s whole administration seemed more than ready to give up some bribe money in exchange of finally getting rid of the old families’ tight powergrip. Whether the average citizen was supposed to be glad about it or just lynch every person in a suit they came across was still up for debate.

Of course, all shit had hit the proverbial fan when the pyramid of power which had ruled this city for decades had collapsed simultaneously from top to bottom and all the way back to the top. The Yakuza hadn’t even waited for the first warrant to be issued before they had stormed the mafia’s territories like it had been no one’s business. With the bigshots’ ranks now in shambles and the police, as usual, unable to do anything than shrug and pretend they were actually trying, the ordinary people had found themselves searching help from the small street gangs. The small fries had found themselves assaulted by the sharks and they did the only thing they could have done to survive. They had forgotten the old rivalries with lightning speed, quickly forming alliances with each other and working together to push off the invading Tigers. It had been only around a month after all the street anarchy had begun when Sherwood had triumphantly left their hideouts in the Narrows and had managed to secure around a third of Lowtown in merely a day’s time. Under their leader, the Robin Ryuu had once talked almost in awe, Sherwood had declared urban war on the Tigers, pushing back the Fujimuras’ people day after day. It helped that the city warriors bearing the green cloth of designation on their bodies never fought face to face. With misdirection, guerilla tactics and by overall being one big pain in the Yakuza’s collective arses, Sherwood had soon taken full control of Lowtown. Many gang alliances had asked for Robin’s men to join them- to which the answer was that they were all free to join Sherwood. At the beginning everyone had just thought of Robin as a pompous douche high on his initial success.

And then had come the news that the little winter fairy, Lady Einzbern, had made Robin her right-hand man. With Sherwood now synonyms with the former might of the Einzberns and their branch families, all those gang unions had started groveling at Robin’s feet for a chance to get membership. It went without saying that he had accepted- but the real surprise was when half of the Matou’s former branch families had sworn allegiance to the winter fairy’s green knight and, by proxy, to Lady Einzbern herself.

And speaking of the Einzberns, merely a week after unveiling what I had thought of as the last piece of the mystery, Archer had resigned from the police. Of course, it hadn’t been a surprise given that the Emiya name wasn’t particularly in good graces now that Kiritsugu was under the very real threat of spending some quality time in prison. Still, most people- me included- had thought that Archer was going to just assume his position as an Einzbern. He was the late Irisviel von Einzbern’s firstborn son, after all. But instead of becoming a Lord and eating from a silver spoon every evening, Archer had given up his claims for the family’s fortune.

Only to announce his marriage to the Tohsaka’s heir two weeks later, on Rin’s eighteenth birthday. The branch families of the Tohsaka had suddenly found themselves quickly put back in line by the main family’s new patriarch. Many of the companies who had used to support Heaven’s Feel Incorporated had then latched onto Archer and the Tohsakas, desperate not to sink along with Kiritsugu. In a cry of defiance to the Einzberns, half of the former Matou-sworn families and gangs had also thrown their bid with Archer. So, somehow emerging from the calamity stronger than ever before, the Tohsakas had turned into the sole thing keeping the Tigers out of Hightown, singlehandedly.

Frankly, I didn’t know if things were actually better from the time when the three families had used to reign, power shared under the threat of a full-blown mob war. As mentioned, the Tohsakas under Archer’s leadership were metaphorically blooming, an epitome of safe haven for every crooked or non-crooked businessman or ordinary resident of the better parts of the city. After lying in wait for a suspiciously long time, Robin had turned into an almost literal folk hero for the ordinary people. He had gained enough fame with his deeds for the average folk to somehow overlook the fact that as the proverbial sworn knight of Lady Einzbern, he now lived in a castle and had control of around a third of the city. Well, I guessed that turning a ragtag bunch of guerillas into a freaking army in the span of a month did tend to make people overlook one’s flaws. The Tigers hadn’t fared half-bad either. They had gained control of the majority of the Matou’s former territory and had also earned themselves solid footing into the central parts of the city. All in all, the whole place was now divided in three almost equal parts and, according to the whispered tales spread all over the city, each and every night the Tigress, Archer and Robin prowled the dark alleys in search of one another.

Looking back, the whole thing really did hinge almost solely on the efforts of those three.

It was as if the weak and unstable parts of the city’s prominent dark side had been swept away, only to be inherited by even stronger and deadlier beasts.

I myself hadn’t fared half-bad during all those months. Touko had truly outdone herself with the pair of prosthetic hands she had put together for me. Still, getting used to them was a chore and as the winter drew near I had began waking up in the middle of the night, metallic hands getting frosty, with higher and higher frequency.

That snowy day at the end of January was a relatively important one in my life. The court finally put an end to the case and all the conspirators, the ones who were still alive anyway, were put behind bars. I reassured myself over and over again that it meant no more pesky journalists for me to deal with, at least after a week more or so. After escaping the ambush the vultures had set up for me in front of the court house, I found myself wandering the streets of the city. As usual for the winter, sundown was ridiculously early. The tons of snow that had engulfed the whole city, like some thick white curtain trying to hide all the sins away, were colored red by the rays of the setting sun.

The deepest crimson, like a blossoming rose.

It was as if the scarlet snow now finally showed to the world what kind of city it truly was. Covered in proverbial and literal blood, from the darkest, dirtiest back alleys to the spire-tops of the tallest skyscrapers. And still, I couldn’t make myself leave it. It was the city I had grown up in. It was the city I had met Bazett in. I figured that if I had survived three solid decades in it I could survive a couple or more so.

My wandering feet soon led me to the gloomy graveyard next to Kotomine’s, or rather formerly his, church. Bazett’s grave looked the same as always- the tombstone seemed like a guiding beacon to me despite being identical to those around it. The snow around the place was squashed under footprint after footprint shaped as the soles of my shoes and the flowers placed at the base hadn’t even died yet. The only difference from the grave that I had kept on visiting so many times for now nearly eight years was that Bazett’s body was truly resting beneath the snow and soil now.

I stood there until the sun set fully and night descended. The winter darkness was different from the gloomy nights of the rest of the year. Through the ragtag veil of the clouds, the moon shined down brightly. The snow reflected it all, turning into a glowing blanket of dimmed light that covered the whole city. When my artificial hands had started threatening me that they’d get incased in solid ice once again, I stood up with a sigh and pushed back the pair of glasses that I was still unaccustomed to wearing. That darn thing felt like itchiness incarnate when I put it on.

Halfway on my way out, I decided to visit yet another old acquaintance on a whim. Sasaki Kojiro’s unassuming grave didn’t stand out in the darkness at all. In stark contrast to the man it should have represented, it was painfully inconspicuous and looked almost like a clone to all the other graves flanking it. Back when they had buried the body, the sole person present aside from the priest who had conducted the hasty ceremony had been me. Still, even tho I hadn’t visited him for around a month, the snow around it was recently cleaned. I could almost pick out an exotic Eastern-ish scent lingering in the chilly winter air. Incense.

A small smile remained hidden under the brim of my fedora when I noticed the tiny porcelain tiger left at the base of the tombstone.

The signature sound of snow getting squashed under someone’s feet made me turn around in surprise. Several rows of tombstones away, none other than Gil King had stopped in his tracks and was currently glaring at me in annoyance. It was only for a brief moment, too quickly for anyone other than a trained hound like me to notice, but his crimson eyes darted to his side. The tombstone he had looked at was noticeably bigger than the rest, pure white marble glistening under the moonlight. I could only make out the name ‘Alexander’ from where I stood.

“Truly, there are still wonders in this world,” I said, unwilling to pass by a chance of humiliating the blond bastard. “Could it be that you, Gil, ole’ pal of mine, are paying your respects to the dead after dark ‘cause you’re afraid of someone learning you actually have a heart?”

The blond bastard just grinded his teeth and shrugged in his furry coat, probably skinned off the back of some endangered species.

“And I see you’re still dead-set on not kicking the bucket, mutt.”

“Honestly?” I countered and let out a hoarse laugh. “I expected better from you then a lame pun, Gil.”

“I was in a hurry,” he said simply and shrugged his shoulders once again.

“A friend of yours?” I asked, unable to bear the descending silence, and nodded towards the gravestone behind him.

The blond looked behind with curiosity, almost as if expecting to see something different than a bunch of tombstones.

“That guy?” he answered and burst into a fit of cold, heartless laughter. “Nah, I hated him. Still, that dead loaf remains the only one in this whole darn city that can understand a word of what I’m saying.”

And still, that kind of grave could’ve only been made with quite a lot of money- and the space around it was suspiciously lacking in snow.

Shaking his head and muttering something about my lack of brain cells, Gil King turned his back and prepared to leave me behind.

“Hey, Gil!” I called out, more on instinct than anything.

He just turned around partially and raised an eyebrow in my direction. Clearly I wasn’t even worth a single ‘what’ to him.

“I was thinking, Gil, that hospital which Kotomine bought as a front to make the drugs… wasn’t it you who owned it before that? And he did say he had bought it quite cheaply.”

Almost a minute passed before he answered, arrogant smile playing on his lips.

“I own this whole city, mutt. But from Kiritsugu I had learned how good Kotomine was with the scalpel and, after that dreadful incident with his wife, I decided to give him the chance to recuperate and help this city at the same time. Of course, I left my best leading scientists under his direct control. But how could I have known he’d go crazy and make brainwashing drugs?”

“Hey, Gil… if, say, there was some shadowed mastermind who had planned all this out beforehand, which piece do you think I was in his game?” I asked almost absentmindedly. The answer was quicker than lightning.

“Not even a pawn.”

“Right,” I drawled out and shot him an annoyed glare.

“No, really,” he repeated, this time a tad more seriously. “Being a pawn would imply being of some use to one of the players and having the potential of changing the outcome of the game, either by being sacrificed or getting promoted. In this, purely hypothetical of course, mastermind’s proverbial game of chess, you were of no importance.”

“How so?” I asked and knitted my eyebrows, unknowingly holding my breath in wait for his answer.

“Regardless of how the detective had acted in this metaphorical game, regardless of whether he had died or quit midway through… or won, as this was the case, the ending outcome would’ve been the same. The strong survive and the weak filth is swept away. If Kotomine had continued playing cult leader, the weak would’ve been picked off one by one until someone capable, be it by strength or intelligence, had put him down. If Shirou had kept on killing ‘sinners’, the leader of the strongest branch family would have outwitted the rest and taken the lead with the heir of the main family now dead. If Kiritsugu had played his cards right, either the Einzberns under his leadership were going to fully take control of the mafia part of the city or someone competent enough from the rest of the big families would’ve picked up on his schemes and dethroned him on time by turning everybody whom he had used against him. And when the detective won-“

“The remains of the Matous split in half and were forced to join one of their former rivals to survive. The gangs allied themselves with Sherwood to fend off the Yakuza. And the Tohsakas and Einzberns themselves adopted strong outsiders into the family to be able to go toe to toe against their opponents.”

“Precisely,” replied Gil triumphantly. “Now you see, mutt, whether you lived or died, failed or succeeded, it made no difference. The outcome would’ve been the same either way, only the details would’ve been different. The strong survive, the weak die. Simple as that.”

There was fire in his eyes, burning with zeal I had seen only in Kotomine’s eyes when he had told me about his plan.

“Y’know, little Lady Einzbern told me that Shirou had been quite high on that superdrug when he had used to come back home from the Babylon,” I said. It wasn’t rhetoric as much as it was fact. Both of us knew it and what it implied.

“Kotomine had managed to get his hands on some rich boys around Shirou’s age for his cult,” replied Gil almost innocently and shrugged. “They could’ve given him some to try, under the pretext of it being all the rage or something. Or they could’ve just slipped some in his drinks until he got addicted. A shame really. Only a complete bastard would twist his heroic vow to seek Justice in such a way.”

“Truer words have never being said, Gil, ole’ pal of mine.”

I wanted to strangle him right then and there and bury his lifeless body under some tree so the dogs could pee on him when they passed.

With a victorious smirk, the blond bastard finally started walking away. His tall figure disappeared quickly into the darkness, even with the piles of luminescent snow lighting the alleyway between the graves. And yet, his voice- taken back to me by the chilly wind- was as clear as crystal.

“Some games of chess, mutt, can only be won by the player being nowhere near the board when the game is played.”

[Alulim]

Ah, Al expected as much.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Hmm, I figured Gil had to have some role in all of this.

Anyway, a fitting epilogue to one hell of a good story.

[Sherrinford]

I'll miss this fanfic... ;_;

Ro-bin! Ro-bin! Today, Lowtown, tomorrow... the whole city! (why am I so happy for him? Oh, who cares, horay!)

The scene with Gil and Lancer in the snowy graveyard... all of that scene... *thumb up, nodding*
I liked how, even after the 'visiting Alexander's tomb', Gil still remains the villain... very well done.

After all, even in this city of sins, these mysterious to the public murders rivaled the Asagami Academy’s killings of 1954 in sheer mindfuck and gruesomeness.

I smell a potential spin-off~...



Good luck with the nex project! I hope (for me ) you get out of writer's block very soon!

[Satehi]

I just read all of this in one night and before I go to bed I have to say this:

...

This is simply amazing. I was fully enraptured in Lancer's story, and I loved the twists and pileups.