Confident footsteps echoed through the lounge area of the floor of general works.
-Hm? Ah, Dakota, see you are up and about,-said a soft-spoken, bright-eyed woman with her gray hair styled in a ponytail.
Her name was Destiny, the first assistant librarian to be released from the book. Wearing the pristine white of Hana association's uniform, she was the second in command after Roland.
-Cut the bullshit, why don't you? How's that deadbeat of a boss doing right now?-that came from a crude-sounding purple-haired menace and a resident of District 23.
Who was also the second assistant Librarian and their resident badass - Dakota. Standing at 179cm, she looked down on most people physically and figuratively, and wore the clothes of the Thumb.
-Well, he's been out for the last…mmm, I think it's five hours at this point,-she mused, while sprawled on the armchair, a book in hand.
-I'm not asking that, did he stop bleeding?
-Oh yes, his wounds all closed up nicely. Well, most of them. We might not have much Light at our disposal, but we had enough to heal the most serious injuries.
Indignant, Dakota shook her head.
-Tch, the bastard should off someone already. I'm itching for a fight,-she cracked her knuckles, excitement sneaking into her tone.
-Take it easy Kota, all will come in due time,-somewhere from the couch, a sudden voice resounded, surprising the two.
Dakota would never admit that she flinched.
That came from Eugene, a red-haired man, also wearing the standard issued Hana association uniform. And probably the only person here who had the balls to get on Dakota's nerves. Not that it was intentional, though.
-God fucking damnit, Eugene! We should hang a bell around your neck if you keep appearing out of nowhere!-voiced Dakota her anger, taking the book out of Destiny's hand and attempting to throw it.
- First of all, give it back!-Destiny snatched the book back,-Second - he is right, you know? From what I could gather, Roland wouldn't be waking up for at least a few hours.
-Well first of all, fuck all of you, and second, DON'T call me Kota, for fuck sake. You know I hate it,-she did an eye roll behind her shades, turning around to go and take a seat near the coffee table.
-*YAWN* What's the commotion about, people?-said the man as he entered the room, dropping on the couch, wearing the get up of the late Blue Reverberation. Although, right now it looked like a dusty, wrinkled mess, and not something that the (in)famous Fixer wore.
-Arthur, glad you could join us! How's the progress on copying that book going?-asked Destiny, enthusiasm seeping into her voice.
-Yeah, I did that, we just gotta give it to boss when he wakes up.
-Good-good.
-Are you guys seriously okay with him just dumping a bunch of books on us while he goes out and does whatever exciting shit there is to do?-grumbled Dakota, her voice laced with that annoyance.
-Well, unlike Roland, we don't have anything to anchor us in reality,-said Arthur, working out the kinks in his shoulders.
-And all of us agreed to give up being human to go on this adventure,-continued Destiny.
-And like anything else made out of Light, we cannot leave the Library grounds,-added Euigene, flipping over to the next page.
-Argh! You guys suck,-Dakota grunted, sinking into the armchair, letting out a bored sigh.
-Come on, cheer up. Roland seeing some action means that we will as well soon enough,-tried to raise the spirits Arthur.
-He is right, I think we will see some fighting soon,-agreed Destiny.
-Whatever,-pacified, but still irked, Dakota closed her eyes,trying to catch a few more Zs.
Unbeknownst to them, they only had thirty minutes of silence and peace left.
******
Ritsuka paced around the tent where she and Mash settled.
-Romani, run it by me again,-she pressed her hand to her chin, eyes distant.
-The saint graphs of Cu and Jack are destroyed. It's beyond me how that happened, but the fact of the matter is, we will have to summon them again. Repairing the graphs is impossible.
-And Roland?
-Unknown. I can't get a read on him anywhere in the singularity. And if we go by the account of Robin, he was gravely wounded and lost his senses to rage.
-If I didn't know that he was from some crazy future, I would have thought that he was the same Roland serving under Charlemagne,-Ritsuka grumbled, being well-acquainted with the story due to all the lessons with the Lord El-Melloy II.
Mash, while silent, shared the sentiment, nodding.
-Anything abnormal about his saint graph?-she asked to fill the silence.
-Only that for the last six hours there's been an increased flow of mana from generators to him. Not too much, but if it keeps up, it might put a strain on our energy systems.
-So he is using some kind of ability…
-That is able to keep him alive, yes, Senpai. Were you able to come in contact with him through your mental link?-Kouhai tilted her head in askance.
-Nope, still nothing. I think he might be unconscious, but that is neither here nor there.
She palmed her head, trying in vain to shield herself from reality.
It didn't work.
Which didn't stop her mind from coming up with what to do next.
-Haa, we should probably just wait. In the meantime, it would be good to come up with some kind of plan to storm North's army's stronghold, after all.
-Fujimaru-kun, I'd advise resting instead. Today was quite full of events,-Romani's voice came out weak, but his heart-felt compassion was apparent.
-Yeah. *Sigh*Yeah, maybe you are right,-she let out a short breath, allowing her thoughts to settle.
-I'll prepare the sleeping bags, senpai,-Mash was off, leaving Ritsuka alone with her thoughts. Worse yet, with her emotions.
-Haaaa, what an unbelievable clusterfuck…-the curse slipped out quietly.
She stepped out, the red evening sky giving in to the deep-blue of the night.
Her memories replayed the moments she spent together with everyone she had lost, while asking herself again and again if it was worth it, if there was no better option, a way to do more.
Her face scrunched up, as she swallowed those thoughts. Now was simply not the time to lament.
Though one thing she wanted to do…
-Stay safe, Roland. You still gotta make something delicious for me.
Picked up by the gentle breeze, the words scattered.
******
A painful moan escaped Roland as he woke up. His body hurt all over: be it arms and legs, chest, neck. His body made it painfully clear that he was in no condition to move around much.
Which, he reasoned, was fair. In his rush he made an effort to minimize the injuries. Key part being minimized - he forgot about evasion in favor of landing more hits, electing to let the less threatening strikes connect.
If Geronimo didn't help him, he would have probably bitten it there.
A long sigh escaped him. It was tired and upset, pained and full of scorn.
Faint whispers of regret filled his mind… he dispelled them right that instant. Not now, not here.
Breaking away from his thoughts he looked around and saw… the kitchen. The kitchen of the Library, to be precise, of the Floor of General works.
"Comfortably" sprayed on the metal table where he would usually prepare the ingredients for many dishes patrons demanded of him. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. They could have put him on one of the couches or damn, his room, but nooo. He blamed Dakota for this, the woman had just enough spunk and a mean sense of humor to do this. And Destiny is mischievous enough to just say: "Hey why not?".
Idly, he also noted that this was probably the reason why he felt so stiff.
Attempting to sit, he winced as his body jolted with pain. He clenched his teeth, sat down and noticed that his jacket, shirt and mask were lying on the chair beside the table. He put those on, except for the mask. He didn't bother with buttoning up his suit, he felt stiff already, adding up to that would do him no good.
He checked himself up again, most of what he would call "bad" wounds had disappeared. The rest however…
-Ouch, fucking damn it,-as he put his foot down, pain crawled up his leg. Then, he put down another, and had to fight to stand on his two.
Roland regained his balance quickly and had little trouble going forward other than a slight limp.
Slowly, he walked into the lounge to be greeted with…
-Finally, our sleeping beauty awakens! What's taken so long, you wimp? Aren't you colored fixers the resilient sort?
-A pleasure to see you in great health as well, dear Kota. Keep barking, see if I care,-he paced slowly towards one of the armchairs, flopping into it with a slight hiss of pain and then relaxing.
Dakota huffed begrudgingly. For all her venom, she respected him, somewhat. Him being able to easily get her ass handed to her played no factor in this.
-So, what roughed you up so much Boss? - voiced what was on everyone's mind Arthur.
-Oh yeah, that…-Roland summoned a glass of water for himself, emptying it in one gulp,-So, anyone has any tips regarding the suppression of the Big and Will be Bad Wolf?
For a second, no one understood what he was on about.
And then they understood.
-What the hell…-putting his book down, mouth agape, said Eugene.
-Wait-wait-wait-wait, you're not shitting me and the mutt is up and about, walks around that singularity thingy you told us about?-Dakota took off her glasses, surprise clear on her face.
-So that's where the claw marks come from…-mumbled Destiny quietly. Being the one in charge of treatment, she noted how his injuries looked, but disregarded it soon after. Maybe there was some other animal walking around, strong enough to beat her boss senseless.
Turns out it was something way, way worse.
-Congratulations, Chief, you managed to hold your own against a WAW level abnormality without an E.G.O. Honestly, that's something worth praising,-relayed his sincere praise Arthur, a drop of respect in his gaze.
-Yeah-yeah, it all went to shit, though…
-Well, you are alive, that's all that matters, dumbass.
Roland leveled her with an intense glare. One that carried too many emotions to pick them out. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out.
-Whatever. So? Advice?
The Assistant Librarians and the Former L.Corp employees exchanged glances.
-Well, do you have something that deals pale damage?
-No.
-Then you are pretty fucked, my man,-shrugged Dakota, making her verdict.
-Unless you have someone who is overpowered, your chances are pretty low,-added Destiny, hesitantly.
-For your information, I held it off for almost twenty minutes.
-You wouldn't be a colored fixer if you didn't do that much,-pointed out Dakota.
-In her time as sephirah, Gebura could solo it,-added Arthur.
-Well excuse me for not being a legendary fixer who could beat a couple of claws and fight an arbiter to a draw.
-You are forgiven,-informed him Eugene, returning to his book.
-You guys are not helping at all,-he shook his head, exasperated.
-You can bring it here, if you want to. We all have a certain degree of similarity with it, know its tells and…-Destiny stopped midword,-Actually, there is one person who could put it down without problem,-she muttered, deep in thought.
It came to Roland, then.
-Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary.
-Correct. It's a bit of a stretch, but if she's in the singularity…
-Which she probably is, where that thing goes, she goes as well,-added Arthur.
-Then you can just sick her on it and enjoy the show,-finished her sentence Destiny.
-Oh yeah, people! When you put it like that, it makes it so much easier to forget that we are talking about an UNKILLABLE FUCKING FORCE OF NATURE!-Dakota facepalmed, hard. Not believing the stupidity of her colleagues.
-Well, he can just bring the egg here, we'll book it,-Arthur shrugged, combing his chocolate colored hair back.
-And hope that Red Hood won't gut you in the process?-Dakota arched a brow.
-Point,-Eugene cenceded.
-Haaa, what a headache…-Roland massaged his temples, trying to get rid of the migraine.
-Cheer up boss, maybe you don't need to kill it at all? Just let them Duke it out?
-Maybe we do, maybe we don't, anyway give me a moment, need to break the news to Ritsuka…-told Roland everyone in the room as he concentrated on the connection he had with the master.
Everyone except the Fixer noticed how Dakota was about to let some dirty quip loose, but was fixed by Destiny's gaze.
"Ritsuka, you there?"
There was silence for a moment.
"Roland you absolute dumbass! Where the fuck are you?!"
Fixer winced. Turns out having someone shout in your head is even worse than having someone do it in your ear.
The news of Roland being alive caught Ritsuka right as she was falling asleep.
"Ritsuka, you there?"
When the silence of the night and snoring of Mash was interrupted by the tired voice, she couldn't help herself.
-Roland?!-she shouted, banishing the sleep that creeped up on her.
-Wha-wha, Senpai, what's the matter,- kouhai, who had just fallen asleep raised from her sleeping bag.
"Roland you absolute dumbass! Where the fuck are you?!"-she shouted mentally, hoping that her anger gets through to the other side.
It did.
"Calm down, Ritsuka"-he tried to placate her in vain.
"What do you mean 'calm down' you goddamn clown?! Do you know how worried I was?"
Roland didn't. He genuinely didn't think she would care about him this much.
"Listen, you can shout my ear off in person, for now I need you to do one thing for me"
-He disappears for hours, barges in the middle of night, demands something and refuses to say why… if this isn't your typical "uncle that comes in the middle of the night for some money and booze" archetype, I do not know what to think of him…-she grumbled, turning her communicator back on.
-Senpai…?-Mash was confused by her antics, but got no response.
"What are we looking for, exactly?"-Ritsuka slipped into her working persona despite the drowsiness.
"Have you met up with Robin?"
A hum of acknowledgment.
"Okay, did he tell you about a big and very scary wolf…"
"...That killed Jack, probably Geronimo and possibly you? Yeah, he did…"
There was a pregnant silence, despite the distance between them. Both were momentarily swarmed by memories, both decided to move on, regardless.
"That thing… did your guys in Chaldea see some kind of irregularity with it?"
"Yeah, Romani said it was very weird. It wasn't a phantasmal, while looking like one. It had a very weird reading as well."
"Good, I need you guys to make a singularity-wide search on a similar signature."
"How will this help, exactly?"
"...Just trust me on this one. Worse that can happen, I'll just take some of your time."
"Sleeping time, dare I add!"
"...Sorry if I woke you up,"-he had enough sense to apologize for that.
-Fujimaru? Whatever is the matter?
-Ah, Da Vinci. What's up with Roman?-she asked, expecting to see their dork of a doctor behind the wheel.
-He is sleeping, as should you, really. Now, would you care to explain why you are calling so late into the night?
-Roland finally broke the silence. Says he needs you to make a scan of the singularity.
Da Vinci's expression morphed into that of deep contemplation.
-That's… a bit of a tall order, I'm afraid. If you stood on a particularly strong layline, then it would have been possible, but as of right now…-she motioned, leaving the obvious part unsaid.
"We can't do that now."
"Why?"
"We need a layline for that. Give me a sec."
-Where is one layline like that?
An amused smile graced the inventor's lips.
-As a matter of fact, a stronghold of the north army stands on one such layline. While we are at it, why should we perform a scan?
-Roland says that it might be of help.
"By any chance, will this help us with the wolf?"-she made a guess from the pieces that he left her.
"If she is here as well, then we might as well have its natural enemy in the singularity."
Okay, that's promising.
-To be precise, it can help us kill the wolf.
-I see. Something worth investigating, then. As of right now I can check your immediate vicinity, would that be okay?
-Do it.
-Okey-dokey.
"So, how are you?"-was the first thing she asked when the business was out of the way.
"Hurt all over, scratches here and there, bruises. I've lived through worse."
"Glad to hear it. Wait, not you being hurt… You understood, so whatever. Moving on, where are you? From what Robin told us, the battle was brutal and you kind of… lost it by the end,"-she tried to make it sound better than it was.
If Roland made note of her choice of words he didn't voice it.
"I'm still in Washington"-instead, he dropped a bombshell.
-"You freaking where?!"-she screamed through the link and with her mouth.
Gaining some very funny looks from Mash and Da Vinci.
And probably a wince from Roland, not that she could see it.
"For someone who was about to head to bed, you sure have a lot of energy,"-he noted, half sarcastic, half pained.
The girl had a pair of lungs on her.
"Relax, I'm inside my reality marble right now."
-Reality marble…?!-she half-screamed.
That got a bit more reaction from Da Vinci.
-Might I ask for a bit more context?-inventor's curiosity prompted her to ask for details.
-When I find out a bit more myself…
"Explain, please."
"I have a reality marble, what about it?"
Oh, where should she start…
"You've been there since the moment we lost contact, right?"
A curt yes.
"Reality Marbles are like… a big deal. They take a lot out of people. You are basically telling the world to beggar off and replace some kind of space with your own rules, which costs a lot of prana. I would know, Emiya has one and he can't have it out for more than twenty minutes".
Silence.
"Roland, you had it out for the last six hours or so. Even the best of mages, hell, even Chaldea can't supply you with enough energy to keep it up for that long".
Roland kept quiet.
"Roland? Buddy? I'm getting nervous. Say something".
…he was still silent.
Now she was really getting worried.
"Yeah, sorry for leaving you hanging. Anyway, I don't know why it costs so little".
How very convenient, Mr.Roland. Aren't you the one who's actually in control there? Shouldn't you know all about it?
Those were the questions she wanted to ask.
There was also the "why you didn't mention this" but if she was going to ask that, she might as well do it face to face.
-Fujimaru, about your request… I have found no signature like that in your immediate vicinity.
-Which gives us all the more reasons to storm the castle.
-We are not storming it, Senpai. We are trying to make Edison return to his senses.
-Tomayto-tomahto.
Shielder let out a sigh.
-Fu-fu, well, now that this is over, can I ask what was that about reality marble?
-According to Roland, he had been hiding in his reality marble ever since we lost contact.
That raised more than a few eyebrows.
Especially considering the staff was listening in on the conversation as well.
-Intriguing. And how can he explain such a prolonged deployment of Reality Marble?
-He can't. Says he doesn't know.
-How convenient,-said Da Vinci, not buying it at all.
-I know, right?-Ritsuka agreed, and promised to herself to get the details at a later date. Pushing the guy now would only make him more guarded. Not to mention, she wanted him to trust her enough to actually talk about it.
-Well, if he doesn't want his secrets known, then they are his to keep,-Da Vinci, surprisingly, let go of the matter quickly.
-Aren't you giving up a bit fast?
-Hm,-she smirked,-Roland appears to me as a highly stubborn individual. You need to either pressure him or wait for him to open up. And I'm not quite sure we can afford the former.
-When you are right, you are right, Da Vinci,-Ritsuka nodded sagely.
-I know. Now, go to sleep.
"Alright, so there is no such signature in our area, but we might just get a better picture after we raid the castle".
"You will raid what?"-it was now Roland's turn to be weirded out.
"Don't worry about it, we've got the firepower box ticked. I'd summon you here, but I might need those command seals tomorrow, and you are injured, so…"
"Don't sweat it. I'd rather get some rest, wait for your signal".
"Good. I'll head to bed then…"
"Yeah, good night".
"And Roland? Thanks for staying alive."
In the lounge, Roland creased his brows, feelings surging up.
He sighed.
"Don't mention it. Go to sleep".
She didn't respond, taking his advice.
Roland stood up.
-Where are you going, Boss-man?-asked Destiny.
-Getting my beauty sleep. I'm stiff like a board, courtesy of certain people,-he pointedly looked at Dakota and then Destiny, before slowly limping to his room.
Dropping into his bed, he fell asleep almost immediately and spent the next hours restlessly, twisting and turning in his sleep.
*****
It was a dimly lit room. Stacks upon stacks of shelves, every inch of which were filled with books. Some new, some old. Most needed dusting, like they have never been touched, others didn't seem to have seen much use either.
After all, most of the books here were utter gibberish. Random letters scattered throughout the pages. And those that weren't were of his personal collection or… dictionaries. Being in charge of the floor of General works made him acquainted (against his will) with the many dictionaries on many different topics.
The air was… dusty. Not the bad sort of way, no. The cozy type. He'd spent his last few years here, and while at first he didn't bother with decorating, he grew to care about this place. And eventually made it his own.
The shelves became the new walls, reaching the high ceiling. What little space the ever gluttonous pile of books left he placed his meager belongings on.
There would've been more, but he kind of didn't bring anything along with him. He was going out to have some sandwiches for crying out loud…
There was a group photo of every Parton Librarian on one of the walls - in front of his writing table, in the left part of the room. On the table itself, a lamp stood, hard at work, trying to spread the green glow around the room.
Next to it was his wardrobe, filled with small trinkets, a few pieces of clothing and other things.
To the right, beneath the arch-like shelf, was his bed: simple in design with plain white sheets covering it, a simple light attached to the wall just above it. .
The room wasn't spacious, but he'd found that he didn't need much space anyway. No windows either. This was his lone little corner. Spacious enough to give him enough room to breathe, but not enough to let his thoughts run amok.
Physical tightness kept his thoughts contained.
Sitting left from the entrance there was also a pair of armchairs with a table stuck in between. It was all made out of wood, giving the natural feel to the room. Wooden things -as in natural wood, not whatever they create with singularities - are rare. And that was his first choice when Angela first proposed he did some redecorating.
But with a pull of the switch the otherwise welcoming room would turn dark, the lamp exposing the shadows held in the owner's heart.
Roland was sitting laxly in an armchair, his tie loose, jacket hanging on the back of the chair. In front of him was a bottle of alcohol and a half-empty glass. Near the battle lay his gloves.
His face wore the mask of rumination.
It was the first time in a long while that he… lost someone. Time in the Library was his reprieve from one constant, which followed him everywhere - death.
As a fixer who had been in the business for most of his life, he should have long since passed the point where running away to save himself was a thing worth thinking about. And he did cross it. He had run away in his younger days, condemning many people from his former offices. Him not holding any real attachment to people helped with not thinking about it for long.
He was always ready to run and never look back. And there was no one there to judge him. This was normal.
Well, until it stopped being normal.
The tart liquid tried and failed to wash away the bitterness in his mouth as he emptied the glass in one go.
His eyes settled on his gloves, fingers tracing the smooth fabric.
…Believe it or not, while the emotions weren't quite as strong, they were not unlike those he had felt when Angelica was taken away from him.
The hollow emptiness of not being able to speak to these people again, the bitter powerlessness.
But there was a new feeling added in the mix. One he just couldn't place his finger on…
He couldn't stop thinking about how he could have played this differently. How he could have used the library, maybe finish the wolf off faster. Take on a different opponent…
The many what ifs of life. And the regret that came with them.
He stopped his thoughts from spiraling any further just as his hands came to an abrupt halt around the bottleneck.
He tried to find his center as he settled into the puffy cushions, letting the tension escape.
His thoughts started to untie the noose of emotions.
He couldn't have used his phantasm, because he needed a lot of mana to use it in battle. It wasn't suited for a battle they had. It would have taken a lot out of him as well.
Regardless of how he thought about it, this was the right choice he had made.
There was still something though… Why didn't he use the Library? Not the logical reasons, those rarely stopped him when he was driven by something.
Something clicked and it came to him.
It was not telling anyone that he even had an ace up his sleeve that plagued his thoughts. It was his distrust of others that stayed his reveal of it. And it was a possibility that maybe these people would have lived if he had shown trust that now keeps him up at night.
…Ultimately, he was just afraid that if he revealed it, questions would be asked. Questions that he might not be able to answer without raising suspicion.
He let out a long and tired sigh.
The funny thing is - those very same questions are going to be asked now anyway.
Except, he know would get the least out of the situation.
Some small part of him noted, sardonically, that even in this situation he was weighing pros and cons. Roland didn't pay much attention to it.
Cutting the stream of emotions, he could only confidently say one thing.
He fucked up. On multiple fronts.
He had his priorities wrong. He showed distrust. And he grew close to people…
No, that last one wasn't a mistake. He refused to see it as one.
Even if it made it all the more painful.
Another sigh, he now grasps the bottle and fills the cup. Putting the glass bottle against the light of the lamp, he absentmindedly observes how the green light starts to dance within the liquid.
It's then that Roland remembers how he got this bottle.
*****
Deep, labored breaths.
Two warriors. Two friends found their paths crossing after a long time of parting.
Shame that they were standing in each other's way.
Shame, that they didn't know better than to push forward.
They were stubborn like that. And they knew that the other side wouldn't settle for anything less than victory.
-Haaa. Let's finish this, Roland,-Oliver proposed, his tone contained, features resolute.
Roland's entire being stiffened. But he didn't let it show.
He sighed. And repeated his mantra, his gospel. Quitely. So that no one can hear how hard this actually was for him.
-This is this, and that is that…
He readied his sword.
Oliver prepared his spear.
In a blurry of motion, the sword disappeared, giving way for the duo of pistols.
The Hana fixer could not react in time.
The fight was as good as over.
The next few seconds only the sound of torn flesh and splattering of blood could be heard.
Roland's onslaught had only three strikes left.
Swing. And the man's forearm drops to the ground.
Swing. And the other arm joins it.
Thrust. And the heart is pierced.
Ten centimeters. That's all the distance between the two children of this abominable City.
Roland could hear, clearly, the dying breaths of his friend.
-To die by the blade of a friend…-a shadow of a smile graces Oliver's stoic face.
Two fixers locked eyes.
-Thanks for everything…-Roland's face morphed, a sad tug on his lips. And the pain hidden deep in the wrinkles on his forehead,-And…
He didn't get to finish that sentence.
Turning into golden pages, Oliver was gone.
Roland's eyes stayed on the place where his friend had been just a second prior, before he turned around, leaving the stage.
Something dark lurked in the echo of his steps.
*****
A chat with Angela later, Roland was approaching his room, his hands hidden in the pockets.
But near his quarters, a familiar face stood.
-Netzah?
The green-haired man didn't say anything and just threw a bottle fixer's way.
He caught it effortlessly, inspecting the drink.
-...I've heard what happened. I…-The Patron couldn't find words to console his friend,-I'm sorry that it had come to this.
The hand in his pocket tensed, but the only thing that appeared on his face was a weary smile.
"The last one, the last fake smile. Just a bit more"-that's what was going through his head.
-Thanks, Netzah.
-If you need a drinking buddy or, err,-he scratched the back of his neck,-A person to talk to, you can find me. I'm not Hod, not good with this "comfort people" stuff, but…
Whatever confidence the man had was gone but his words were earnest.
But Roland couldn't care less. Not right now, at least.
Seeing that fixer wouldn't respond, Netzah excused himself.
-I'll be going then. You know where to find us, if you need anything.
Us.
So the other Patrons knew already. And they'd decided to send Netzah.
Or the messy Patron of Literature did it himself.
A spark of something appeared and just as soon disappeared as Roland stepped into a dark room.
He drank half of the drink back then.
******
And now there was none left.
He swallowed what was left of the liquid and let out a long sigh.
His eyes lingered on the darkness of the ceiling, fingers drumming a slow rhythm as his train of thought kept on moving.
Their nature as servants added a new layer to this whole situation. They are not technically alive and could be summoned back. The thing though (and he was sure Ritsuka shares his thoughts on the matter) - the memories of these people dying will always stay with you. Having them by your side again won't save you from constant nightmares.
He would know, he "killed" his best friend.
But then again, be it Oliver or Jack, Cu, Nero, Geronimo, Billy. They all went fighting knowing what's on the line with very clear goals in mind.
He knew the risks too. And he also knew how this could go. He might feel partially responsible, which doesn't take away from the simple truth:
He might have fucked up, but he is still here.
He can take his own advice and keep on moving, hoping that these people would be summoned and he could apologize. While also not making the same mistake.
-Okay, that's enough depressing stuff for now,-he stood up, forcing the thoughts into the back of his mind.
* SNAP *
With a snap, a wall opposite to him, right in front of the table, turned into glass, war light flooding the room.
While there might not have been one previously, the library was very malleable like that - making a window where there was none was a piece of cake.
He stood up and scratched, made a few sit ups, working out the kinks in his neck and shoulders. All coming out with satisfying pops. And a few hisses of pain.
He wasn't fully healed, but this would have to do for now.
He really needed to do something physical, take his mind off things.
Besides, wasn't Ritsuka about to storm a castle?
******
Correction. Ritsuka had already stormed the castle.
The group approached the fortification within the first hours of dawn and made a run for it, fending off the killerbots and handing Karna's ass to him.
Or so Ritsuka would like to put it, but in the process, the castle found itself with new holes and well… they had to leave Scatach to have her fun with the lancer.
The good news was - Nightingale successfully roasted a lion and now they were discussing how and what to prepare.
Speaking of preparation…
-Oh, right!-Ritsuka exclaimed, a metaphorical light bulb shining above her head.
-Hm? What is it, vice presi-king?
-So, we've got info on what can be done with the wolf.
-Oho, prey tell?-she had the inventor's undivided attention.
-Well, one of my servants who managed to get away, said that this wolf has a natural enemy, so if it got pulled into the singularity we can exploit a conceptual weakness.
-Marvelous. What might you need to find it?
-We need a layline and…
-Say no more, I'm sure my dear friend here can help you with this, Blavatsky is unparalleled in all things magecraft,-Edison turned to his friend and gave a light nod.
-However, I must ask who exactly we are talking about.
Ritsuka's brain short-circuited.
This was one thing she kind of forgot to ask Roland. Who exactly were they looking for and how were they supposed to help?
-Er, give me a minute.
"ROLAND!"
That's what the fixer heard when he was about to put the last dish to dry.
Having nothing better to do, he made a simple dish for himself to eat and recover, with Eugene joining him soon after.
Some simple bacon and eggs later, he took to washing the dishes - something that always managed to calm his mind. On occasion, Angelica would comment on him being a perfect househusband, as she herself couldn't really cook. And clumsy when it came to housework.
She was very good at creating a mess at home, despite being a neat freak when it came to equipment. Even in retirement she kept her weapons cleana and the room messy.
Well, to be fair, they were both good at making a mess…
He shook his head, returning to reality.
"What is it, Ritsuka?"-he asked, his hands dexterously catching the plate he'd almost dropped.
"It kind of slipped my mind, but I really need to know it now… Ah, em, how exactly the guy who you told me about is going to be of help?"
He dried his hands with a towel as he thought of an answer.
"It's of the same nature as the wolf, as you might have guessed."
"I pieced as much,"-a telepathical nod.
"The person we need is called Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary. She's an antithesis of the wolf we are trying to slay."
Some time later, on the other side of the link, Ritsuka's brow started to twitch.
Roland was trying to sell her that a person from the fairy tale was real. Not the weirdest thing that had happened to her, after all, Dantes is a servant as well, but something about the wording…
"Wait, by any chance, are the two of them not servants?"-she made a blind guess, her gut telling her was 100% correct.
"You would be right, they are not Servants, they are… something else entirely".
God damnit.
She let out a long sigh, gathering the gazes of everyone present in the room, but not paying them any mind.
The closer she gets to the end, the more strange bullshit is thrown her way.
"Okay, explain, please. I need to sell it to these guys here".
"Strap in, this is going to take a while".
*****
While the Chaldeans tried to explain what the abnormalities were to the Presi-king of America, something else was brewing.
A girl, no taller than 150 centimeters, who hadn't even seen her 10th birthday pass, was running for her life in the darkness of the woods.
Her eyes bloodshot, the trails of tears still visible, she desperately escaped further into the forest, in hopes of finding shelter after her home was raided by the celts.
She breathed heavily, her hair dirty with mud and leaves, her hands full of scratches and her feet full of bleeding blisters.
Her attention scattered around, hearing pushed to the utmost limit as she tried to hear the approach of her pursuers.
Her life was flashing before her eyes.
How the war started, them moving further north and eventually settling near a village inside of this forest.
And so months went by as they lived in a little hut left by the forest watcher. Her father and mother hoped to come back to their comfy little farm when everything died down. And everything would return to normal…
Oh how wrong they were.
She kept on running, tripping on the tree roots but standing back up. Her panic-filled mind pushed her to flee despite the pain and blood trickling down her hands and face.
Her clothes are now just dirty rags with many holes. Her papa's shirt tucked into her pants - too big for her to wear but they had to make due. Her mama's bracelet - she made sure it didn't slip. Her pants with suspenders were riddled with tears.
But she kept running. That was the last thing her Mama said for her to do.
Painful memories resurfacing didn't stop her trek through the woods. But how long could a child's body hold?
The answer came when her leg slipped on one of the rocks.
-Aaaaaaaah!-a shrill cry of pain echoed through the forest, slowly dwindling into whimpers.
She tried to get up, turning to her side, supporting herself with her hands, but the pain was simply unbearable.
She looked at her leg - the unnatural angle it was twisted at. Horror flooded her mind.
*RUSTLE-RUSTLE* *THUMP-THUMP*
The rustling of the leaves and the many footsteps leaving nothing to imagination.
-*Hicc-Hicc*, Someone, anyone, please…-the girl who lost everything to things beyond her control and comprehension, for no other reason than Fate, was crying whatever little was left, with only one plea to the world left,-kill them. All of them, please.
Wishing to unleash the suffering worse than those that she had to experience on those who wronged her.
Those who had torn to shreds her father. Those who subjected her mother to fate worse than death.
-Hm? How much are you paying?-suddenly, came a voice.
Girl's eyes shot wide open a she whipped her head to the nearby tree.
A silhouette of a woman stood there, leaning on one of the trees. It was hard to make out her appearance with branches taking all of the light for themselves, but the girl could say for certain two things:
She was wearing a hood of crimson red. And her eye was of a blazing yellow color.
-So?-she tired her head lazily, her eye narrowing in askance.
-P-please! Anything! I'll do anything, g-give anything, *hicc*, just kill all of those that killed Mama and Papa!-she cried out, stuttering over every other word, but what remained unshakable was the hate, that burned inside her eyes.
But the figure remained idle, letting a slow "Hm" escape her, like the thought wasn't appealing enough.
And as if mocking her, the Celts finally stepped out of the bushes - to finish the last remaining straggler before they could declare their mission over.
The sticky fear enveloped the girl whole, as her eyes darted between her executors and the lone figure.
The Celts didn't expect to see another person, but with the discipline engraved into them, they quickly gathered themselves, stepping around the small clearing where the girl and the woman were.
-*Snap* I got it. Alright, girl, I'll do it… I'll take what's due after I finish them off.
The warriors suddenly stiffened and prepared their weapons.
Only for oppressive bloodlust to fall on them.
-But to get that, I need my employer in one piece, yeah?-with a flick, her dagger unfolded and the next moment, she was at a celtic warrior's throat, beheading him swiftly.
The only emotion she displayed was… amusement, as a shadow of a smile reached her eye.
The whole encounter only lasted ten seconds, in which the celts were cut like grass, all except one.
-Alright, now onto the paying…-the woman in the red hood said, as she slowly dragged one of the warriors to the girl.
The man had no legs to run away and one of his hands was cut off. But the bugger was very resilient, so he'd last another five minutes. Just enough time for the Hood to get her payment.
-Listen here, girl,-she said, as the body flopped in front of her, splattering the blood all over her,-as a payment for what I'm about to continue doing, I need you - to kill this guy.
And then she dropped one of her guns on the girl's lap.
-Go on then,-she nodded towards the man.
The girl's gaze traveled between the gun, the woman.
And the man she was about to kill.
The whispers of unending, undying hate filled her mind. They told her to massacre.
The whispers weren't hers, but when her own anger flared up, the maddening whispers collided, turning into a song of fury.
-Just pull the trigger and let life run its course,-mercenary supplied.
She nodded, aiming the weapon at the barbarian's head. Her grip only slightly shaky.
-Gently put your finger on the trigger, take a deep breath and when you breathe out…
*BANG*
-Pull.
The smell of gunpowder and metal was the first thing that came to the girl, before she registered the sticky blood clinging to her face and hands.
Then came the sweet release, her head filled with vengeful glee.
And only then, did she feel how her shoulder was full of excruciating pain.
-Aarh!-she screamed again, the pain too much to bear.
-Ah, my bad. I should have warned you about it…-said the hooded woman, as she stepped closer, and with a quick motion, putting the dislocated shoulder back.
The girl let out another cry, but before the pain in the shoulder could subdue, a pain just as bad jolted from her leg.
-Consider this a freebie,-the Red Hood added idly, not in the least concerned with the girl's yells.
-Now then, I'll be off to finish the job. Don't bother with telling where to go, I'll just follow the tracks. Can't have people pay forward without actually doing stuff…-as the silhouette of the Red Hood grew distant, the girl came to her senses.
-T-thank you! Thanks you so much!-from the bottom of her heart, the girl expressed her gratitude.
The Mercenary turned her head slowly, her eye noting the scratches and small scars that the little one earned during the chase.
-I won't be taking that gun from you, so put it to good use,-she turned around once again, but before leaving left her one last word of advice,-And if you ever feel like you can't keep going just look in the mirror. The scars will remind you.
She spoke knowingly, the underlying dark rage somehow clearly transmitted to the girl.
With her piece said, the red hooded mercenary walked south, to the town near which the girl's parents once settled.
Whether she managed to settle the girl's nightmares or just plunged her into an unending cycle of maddening vengeance, the world will never know…
*****
It took the colored fixer a better half of the day to get to his destination. Who would have thought that going approximate directions like "go south-west" or "follow this road" could get this messy.
And no, following the road was pretty easy, it was when the roads ended that he had trouble.
Besides, it seems that he'd found his destination if intensities scattered around the town's main road are anything to go by.
"Ritsuka, I've arrived."
"Good. Tell me how it goes. Or if you need anything."
"Will do".
Giving the road a once over, Roland stepped into the town, the blood squeaking under his shoes.
The display did little to faze him. He had seen such carnage on occasion. Sometimes he was the one who caused it.
Instead, almost clinically, he analyzed the attack style of the offender, how deep the wounds were and the personal "style" if it could be called that.
What he meant was - Red Hood had a very strong tendency to dismember her victims. Make them bleed. He'd picked it up from the time of his synchronization, and well…He couldn't say she was untrue to herself.
It was then that his hearing caught onto a gunshot going off.
He took to the roofs, his presence concealment in place, and moved towards the ensuing battle.
The road was laid with bodies and weapons of different sizes, some pinned to the walls and floor, others missing some body parts. It was evident that by the end of it, the Abnormality decided to get some training in, because the Celts were defeated with their own weaponry.
The mass murder didn't elicit any emotion out of the fixer, instead, he planned how he was going to approach the rogue mercenary.
Maybe do it later? Wait until she cools off?
Fate had other plans for this encounter.
After dismembering another midget into bloody paste, the mercenary's only eye glided over where he was.
Instincts blared, Roland jumped to the side, sparing himself from eating lead.
-Come the fuck out! Because I'm perfectly fine talking with whatever remains of you!-she yelled, stepping over the felled enemies, slowly approaching the building he was on.
…Just his damn luck.
Sighing inwardly, he shouted back:
-Alright-alright! no need to get violent! I'm not here to fight you!
He couldn't see her, but Roland could imagine what she was going to say next:
-Then put them up where I can see them!-her voice demanded obedience, promising a very gruesome end to whoever failed to comply.
Roland certainly wasn't about to try and see what happens.
He lifted his hands slowly, now peeking over the ledge, he then slowly stepped into the line of vision, stepping over small rubble and dust.
-That's one terrible get up,-was the first thing she said.
-That's my ass-kicking outfit, and it's pretty good, I'll let you know,-he retorted back, seeing as she wasn't trying to blow him to smithereens just yet. Which means what? That means there is still a way for this to not blow up in his face.
-Lovely,-her tone came out dry,-now, why did you keep tabs on me?
He should have figured that his level of Presence Concealment wouldn't stand a chance against her.
But he had to put aside the irritation for now.
Mind running at breakneck speeds, he thought and analyzed his situation, where to go if things go south, how to respond to a hostile action.
And what information he should give.
-I heard that you are very possessive of your prey. Didn't want to intrude, is all,-he shrugged.
Her eye shrunk in suspicion.
-So you know about me? And here I thought I was further away than usual,-a trace of intrigue sparked in her voice.
-You're pretty popular, you know. And I was here…
He didn't get to end that sentence.
*SLAM-SLAM-SLAM*
On the periphery of his senses, something was jumping in their direction.
And it was closing in extremely fast.
The next second he noticed the culprit. Veiled in purplish smoke, a hunk of a man was storming through the buildings.
With the last jump, the figure Roland knew very well headed for him, like a merciless arrow.
The massive build, the hulking massive, the bare chest. It only lacked a face with a seemingly perpetual grin.
Seeing the dead man walking again might have been a bit of a shock, but that did little to his instincts.
Rifle in hand, it took a fraction of a second to aim and…
Next second, two guns lit up, bullets finding their mark in the shoulder and the head.
The situation was a bit too hectic to get all surprised because of a sudden help, but Roland didn't have time.
The figure collided with the edge of the building, turning it instantly into dust and rubble, the merciless inertia striking the body into another building.
With the Shadow Fergus flying just by him, he needed to develop the attack. Hot on the saber's heels, Roland took out the twin swords, ready to put the man to rest for good.
But he got beat to the punch.
Red Hood was already on the shadow Servant, blows were exchanged, metal rang, her dagger parried the sword with ease, spotting and taking opportunities to fire at point blank, shredding flesh into minced meat.
-RAAAAAARGH!-the servant roared, from anger and pain.
Roland wasn't the one to miss a party like that.
Quick on his feet, he skipped to the giant, cutting at his ankles, dancing around the swing of the sword, inches away from being grazed.
He swung heavy, picking the wind up enough to deal some real damage to the surroundings, picking up dust.
The Rhino might have problems with his eye-sight, but that's not his problem.
Roland had to get creative, jumping and dodging, slightly redirecting the blows. But carefully, the one glare Red Hood gave him after he almost made her take a hit made it clear that it's not really Fergus he should fear.
The rest of the fight was a blur of motion.
Sparks flew, blades clashed, blows avoided and dealt. The degraded servant had nothing on the Abnormality and a Color, putting up a fight only because of its characteristics.
Catching the blow on the Wheels industry, Roland caught the eye of the merc.
Noticing the slight narrow, was the thing that clued him to the swift, almost unheard steps.
He twisted, but not enough, the spear of tarnished gold piercing his left side, the Rose of Mortality, doing its dirty job.
Interrupting the momentum, Roland turned around, rapid firing into the man behind him, throwing the shadow of Diarmuid off.
It was very naive of him to expect Red Hood to cover for him, because the next thing he knew was a very painful kick to the side from Fergus sending him and Lancer into uncontrolled flight.
With no time to think, knife found itself in his hand, and he stabbed and stabbed again, into the Lancer's left arm, as they rolled on the ground.
A punch to his gut and another, a redirect, a metal, clawed hand ripping at the lancer's chest in retaliation.
They kept rolling like that for another second. Until another kick sent Roland into a building.
Despite his body screaming bloody murder and blood dripping down his forhead and chest, he had to move quickly.
Powering through the pain, he bolted out of the new ruin, sparing himself from being impaled.
A short standstill settled, and Roland was given just enough time to access his new opponents.
-Great, and I hoped I'd never see your ugly mugs again…-he muttered, as he stared at Diarmuid and Fionn, who even despite being just shadows of themselves gave him time to recover.
Annoying, arrogant pricks.
Well, he knew how to reciprocate.
Allas workshop, and he deflects the spear pointing at him by Fionn, side-stepping and grabbing onto the yellow rose, using Diarmuid as a shield.
Spear was replaced by a pistol, gunshots ruthlessly shredding flesh.
With the left hand unresponsive and the right fixed in a strong grip, Diarmuid did the one thing he could.
*SLAM*
A shadow of lancer had no qualms headutting his enemies, so he put his all into it, making Roland stagger back.
It was only a fortunate coincidence that he wasn't skewered right there and then, having done a small step to the right.
-Argh, fucking damn it! -instead it was his calf that the spear pierced, and he didn't shy away from showing how much he disliked that.
But one thing was clear, Roland needed to deal with these guys, and do it fast.
So he pulled out his ace.
His time in the Library was spent learning new tricks.
He cleared some distance between his opponents, fending off the spear and took the low stance. His breath labored, he braced himself for what he was about to do…And he really didn't like it.
The duo stood guard, one covering for the other, but that won't work. At least one will fall after this attack.
A moment, silence…
A fraction of a second later, Roland launched, timing the swing and the momentary acceleration of the weapon, it's singularity working overtime.
Putting everything into this one, swift motion, he mimicked the head of the second section of Shi to the best of his abilities.
Fionn was the one to notice, but it was too late, no amount of covering for one another can save from space being neatly cut.
-Kha-kha,-pushing himself like that wasn't good for his health at all though, as he struggled to stand straight.
Most of the strain from using Mook workshop came from the singularity, as it used the resources of the wielder to do its thing.
Not using it as intended, was one of the more daring ideas he'd come up with.
Well, the price was steep, the gains were high.
The body fell behind Roland, it was Diarmuid.
Fionn was momentarily shocked, despite being just the copy of the original. Roland took the inch, Zelkowa workshop beating the air out of his lungs, finishing everything with a hatchet to the head.
The Duo fell together, once again.
Honestly, the only thing he wanted right now, was to just sit down and take it easy for a bit. He wasn't winded per say, but it hurt all over, and he was pretty sure, another earful for being this reckless from Master was in order.
Well, too bad the day wasn't even nearing its end.
-Hey, Blacky, catch,-came the shout from the behind and the whirring of the wind was a really good hint.
Roland jumped, letting the body fly through where he had just been.
Landing, suppressing the pain in his leg, he shot the merc a glare from behind the mask.
-And what was that for?-the irritation spit off his tongue.
-Well, you've finished your batch, so I decided to throw some more entertainment your way, the more the merrier, aye?-she said, cruel amusement dripping from her words.
-Fuck off,-was the only thing he said.
But the response went past her. Instead she stared at him intently, as if evaluating him.
-I'd give the fight a solid six out of ten,-she declared matter-of-factly, not bothering to explain how she even came to these numbers. Not that Roland cared.
The fierce roar and the drum of the earth alarmed them of the mad rush of a Saber.
The duo glanced at the servant on his last legs.
-But I might change my mind yet,-her dagger in reverse grip, she sprinted towards the danger.
*CLANK*
Metal met with metal, the dagger taking the burnt of the hit effortlessly, gliding around the weapon like a snake, finding its mark in the victim's abdomen.
-Crazy bitch…-Roland muttered under his breath, taking another second to find his center.
It only took an opportunity, and there he was, hammer in hand. It split the wind, hitting dead center on where the Hood plunged her knife just a second ago on the other side, making the weapon go even deeper into the body.
The duo moved in their own rhythm yet didn't step on each other's toes, evading erratic blows, dealing their own, their eyes eventually meeting…
And reaching some sort of agreement.
*BAM-BAM*
Gunshots rang, turning Fergus' arm into minced meat. Smoke blowing from the mercenary's gun.
The hatchet cleaved into the other arm, making part of it drop limply.
-AAAAAARGH!-the giant man roared in pain, as his sword left his grasp.
*CHING*
The Katana was unsheathed for a second, but it was enough.
Both of the Saber's legs were cut off, not seeing much resistance from the weakened flesh, and Fergus helplessly fell to his knees…
On the level of the blazing yellow eye.
-Nothing personal.
A pull of a trigger, and the brain matter scattered, turning into dust mid flight.
And that was the end of that…
The barely audible sigh of relief escaped him and he had to suppress the urge to slump on his ass and take a break.
Oh, how Roland would have liked that… but trouble refused to leave him be.
His ears twitched slightly as he heard a veritable march of at least hundred feet.
His eyes glued to the direction of the sound, to witness an army of midgets, a lot more than a hundred in number.
-Well shit,-he swore. The day might not have been the most eventful in his life, but sure as hell was tiring.
-Hm,-the mercenary eyed her companion in contemplation,-Say Blacky, why were you keeping tabs on me again?
The troops just sixty meters away from her were utterly ignored by the Hooded woman.
-Oh, nothing much, just wanted to hire you is all,-he shrugged as he assessed the damage dealt to him.
The wounds weren't the worst, and would definitely heal in time. And the fodder in front of him? He'll probably have enough fight left to clear them out.
It would hurt like all hell, and he'll probably have to rest for an hour or so to get into the working condition.
His gut was telling him that this might be his way to seal the deal here. So a bit of pain wouldn't be too bad.
He would know, he had his legs and an arm amputated for revenge.
Not that it was intentional, but still.
-Ha! Well, tell me as we go along,-she suggested, swiping and then cleaning off the blood using her bandaged arm.
Roland looked at her, then looked at the crowd of Celtic warriors.
He'd discussed the terms of the contract in situations much worse. A funny day that was…
So when the mercenary rushed the tsunami of bodies, he was right behind her.
With a flick, the duo of swords redirected the attacks from his sides, giving enough space for a thrust.
-So!-despite the clangs of metal and constant battle roars, the Abnormality spoke in an even tone,-who's the prey?
She cut straight to the chase, all the while cleanly dismembering a group of spearmen in a flash.
It was only then that he thought that maybe, talking about the wolf when she was committing homicide wasn't the brightest idea.
But he'd made his bed…
-Me and my boss have a bit of a wolf problem,-he responded, his tone jumped a bit as he deflected a blow with Duradal.
-RAAAAARGH!-suddenly the Red Hood howled, beheading everyone in the two meter radius.
And Roland had enough sense to be a bit a way when he broke the news. But not enough strength to evade being grabbed by the collar and lifted above ground.
-WHERE IS HE?!-she shook him, staring unblinkingly into his eyes, a sea of hatred stirred and threatened to break through-TELL ME NOW!
The dagger was now kissing his neck, dangerously close to the artery.
"Well fuck"-he swore mentally, but kept his gaze locked, despite the mask obstructing most of it.
-Get your shit together, aren't you supposed to be a professional?-he spit out with barely noticeable signs of exertion.
That seemed to have done the trick.
Anger retreated deeper into her gaze, but the irritation did not. And Roland seemed like a pretty good outlet.
So she threw him into incoming enemies.
Fixer braced for impact, grouping correctly.
Not good enough, as some bones in his ribs audibly cracked. And he felt that pretty well too.
The good thing was, it managed to knock the enemy out cold.
The bad, he was now completely surrounded.
As much as Roland thought he knew what buttons to press, the woman was too volatile to deal with. Not even having the same experience as her helped…
He was just thankful she didn't slit his throat there.
Somewhere not too far, he could hear gunshots firing and steel ringing.
He decided to not fall too far back in the body count.
A moment later, and Durandal tasted blood, the enemies falling like flies before the hurt fixer.
It only took another minute to get back to the negotiations.
They stood, back to back, but with some twenty centimeters between them.
-Sorry about that,-she murmured, but there was no apology in that voice, more annoyance at herself.
-Things happen,-Roland, likewise, returned it, not trying to hide his irritation, but not really aiming it at her.
-The terms?-she gave up the first move to him. Maybe as a kind of apology.
He intercepted a spear, breaking it, lunging his own into the chest of an enemy. Blood splattered on his clothes, mask and weapons.
-We bring you to the wolf, where we fight it,-he simplified, not having enough time to put it in a better way.
-HA!-a bark of laughter escaped her, as she slid under a halbert,-There is no we when fighting this bastard.
-Well, you aren't the only one with the bone to pick with him,-he spat out, voice full of venom.
Accidentally, he'd put a bit more power into the swing, the sword cut being a bit more rough.
The raw emotion seemed to have resonated with the merc.
-You can try,-she said, the thirst slipping into her voice, switching places with Roland, parrying the swings of swordsmen.
-But it's your funeral, anyway. But he is mine to kill,-she added, resolution firm, and, more importantly, irrefutable with the amount of bloodlust she was immiting.
That made the battlefield still for a second. Everyone too scared to approach.
But Roland nodded. He was fine with that.
The distance between them grew a bit closer, and the number of enemies lowered, from two hundred heads to just a hundred, as the Celts continued their offensive with renewed vigor.
-Also, no in fighting,-he added, as he staggered the celt in front of him, pushing him into his friends, breaking their stances.
-Well, figured as much,-Red Hood wasn't offended by the display of distrust. It was all within reasonable limits.
With her track record, anyway.
-And yours?-he shot fended against a pair of mace wielding troopers.
-Won't be fighting against anything that isn't the Bastard,-she said, breaking a hand of some unfortunate sod.
Roland's lips thinned behind the mask. Some more fire power would've been nice.
-What are you paying?-she asked, noticing the gap in the conversation, making the black silence skip a beat, almost allowing for a spear to reach him.
Payment was a very touchy subject, because neither he or Chaldea could provide her with everything. Most mundane things, maybe. Da Vinci could probably come up with something if it came to engineering…
His train of thought was interrupted by small laughter.
Red Hood must have noticed him stiffening.
-Relax, it won't be anything too big, all I need is some bandages…-her eye slides over the ones on her arms and legs, smeared with blood.
Internally, Roland sighed with relief. Outwardly, he cut another unfortunate idiot in half.
-Sure, we can do that…-he replied, switching places again, this time, being almost back to back.
-Any questions?-he asked, a parmach and a hatchet finding their marks.
-None,-she answered, unbothered, finishing off the guy she had just cut in half.
Roland expected her to ask more questions, actually.
-Really? Not even going to ask who you are going to work with?-he let some of the surprise seep into his voice.
By that point, there were scarcely any enemies left.
-No,-she answered, no tone to her voice, cutting down another celt.
Six left.
-Why?-the question escaped by itself, he didn't want to voice it. It really wasn't his business, yet…
Rifle appeared in a blink, and the next moment, two more warriors were killed.
Four left.
-Not in the habit of learning the names of the dead men,- no scorn or remorse, no sadness or anger.
It was a fact to her. Everyone facing the wolf tended to die, except her.
As words rang, another body dropped.
Three left.
-I'd like to think that you would be pleasantly surprised,-Roland retorted, a hint of a smirk and playfulness hidden in his words.
With his knife, he ripped into the Celt, making him drawn in his own blood.
He then turned to Red Hood. She turned to him.
A moment of silence passed between.
-We'll see about that,-she cut off, and with that…
Looking past each other, guns in hand, they sent two bullets to the remaining two troopers.
None left.
They approached each other, with Roland offering a hand.
The mercenary evaluated him one last time, and Roland could have sworn that, for just a second, he saw a hint, the smallest of sparks of approval.
A beat later, Hood accepts his hand.
They shook on it.