[color=ed1c24][b]Berserker[/b][/color]
12th Floor Hotel Room
Interacting with: [@Turboshitter] Albert Prelati, [@VanceXentan] Lancelot, Leon Winchester, Bloody Knuckles
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[color=ed1c24]“Bah, should’ve taken the stairs,”[/color] Berserker grumbled as the cramped metal cage ascended. Fortunately she wasn’t yet in her armor, or it would’ve been quite more claustrophobic between the armored dress and pauldrons to match Saber’s. From somewhere, damnable muzak filled the air. [color=ed1c24]“I’m telling you, it’s safer and more healthy. And would make me want to tear out the speakers far less.” [/color]

Normally such a thing wouldn’t be so irksome, but they were all so [i]vulnerable[/i] here. The beats were like ticks of a clock, counting down to doomsday. Should someone cause the elevator to plummet, it would be far too enclosed to protect the squishy humans therein, even if she and Saber would be more than able to survive such a great fall. So there she stood, arms crossed, a pout on her face, and eyes locked on the digital display, watching it cycle through numbers as they neared their destination.

With a turn to 12 and a ceremonious [i]ding![/i], the elevator stopped and opened its doors. Berserker crinkled her nose, sniffing the air purposefully a few times. It was a strange scent, in the sense that there was [i]no[/i] scent. No scent, no sound, no presence. It was like this floor had been separated from everything else, completely and utterly. The source of such phenomena was quickly determined to be the presence of a concealment Bounded Field array placed by the supposed resident. 

Soon after this discovery, they reached the entrance to Jonathan’s lodging. As Saber and Leon spoke, Berserker stood to the side, armor donned and brow furrowed. Something was wrong. Her nostrils flared and her eyes widened. A familiar scent, one that set off a cacophony of alarm bells in the paladin’s head. She opened her mouth to warn the young Master, to stop him from turning that handle and opening that suspiciously unlocked door. [color=ed1c24]“I think [i]I’d[/i] ought to be the o-” [/color]

But it was too late. 

The door was open, and inside was a grotesque tableau. Blood everywhere, except where blood ought to be - in the man, body bisected;  or at the edge of the twin blades, spotless and resting among the cushions. She shifted her position to occupy most of Albert’s eyesight - someone as young as him didn’t need to be seeing something as repugnant as this, magus or otherwise. 

Yet despite the similarity between their actions, there was an obvious distinction between the reaction of the two knights. Compared to Saber’s clear fury, Berserker was, ironically, quite relaxed. On her face was painted a simmering half-smile, and her bearing was distinctly unbothered, even as the carpet squelched sickeningly under the weight of her armor. She’d seen worse. She’d [i]caused[/i] worse, and with all faculty of mind. If this grisly stage was supposed to intimidate her, it had failed. But even more than that, everything about her - from her appearance to that aura of simmering wrath - suggested a sense of belonging here, among the blood and the death. Truly a berserker by name and by nature. 

[color=ed1c24]“How uncivilized. Didn’t you know that fighting mortals is beneath us Servants,”[/color] Berserker clicked her tongue, casting a mocking, similarly ferocious grin at the enemy. In her right hand was a radiant silver sword, shining with radiant monochromaticity. She brandished her blade, and at the spurring of her allies a single word:[color=ed1c24] “Gladly.”[/color]

Berserker burst forward, crossing the distance like a gale. A lowset dash, blade behind her, aimed for an upward stroke at the enemy Servant’s chest. But at the moment before the stroke, she lunged into his guard with her left foot. A low step, even lower than her initial sprint. A suicidal move in any situation, by all appearances. Her blade was behind her, and to bring it forward meant it would have to go through the floor. 

And yet the blade did go through the floor, parting the structure as easily as it would air, slicing through the magic circle anchoring the Bounded Field in the process and aiming [i]not[/i] for the enemy’s chest, but instead for his left knee and through to his right thigh. She would quickly follow up with a step to the right, using the posterior foot on the same side, to flank the enemy on his left, and then bring the blade down and across the left flank of the enemy’s torso and arm, ending in a defensive posture with her blade parallel to her arm to intercept any retaliation.