[color=ed1c24][b]Berserker[/b][/color]
Plummeting down 11 storeys
Interacting with: [@Turboshitter] Albert Prelati
[hr]
Berserker, with Albert in tow, accelerated through the air, cutting it like she was Durendal itself as the building crumbled behind them. The ground was rapidly encroaching upon them, or rather, they were encroaching upon it. And soon, they would be as a roach underfoot. 

Well, survival was no issue for a spiritual body like herself, but her Master was not quite so lucky. Which meant that she herself was not so lucky as well. 

Above the whistling wind, her ears registered something, but she couldn’t much hear what the boy was saying between the cutting wind and the loose, flapping fabrics of their respective clothing. As well as what was likely civilians screaming at the sight of a destroyed hotel and plummeting bodies, but Berserker knew they were worrying for naught. Her Master had a plan, and a bottle that he had just thrust into her possession. 

A single eyebrow was raised, which quickly became two when the bottle, uncorked, began releasing a rapidly expanding golden gelatin of some variety? [color=ed1c24]“The f-”[/color] she began before being immediately silenced. Fortunately, in making the “f” noise, her mouth had been closed enough for her to quickly bar entrance to the golden slime. 

They fell some more, and landed with a noise that was presumably some type of ‘ploop!’ - not that she could tell, as the slime was currently suppressing her ability to hear much of anything. To her, it was like diving from the mast of a ship and into the maw of a giant sea creature -a comparison which evoked similarities to Jonah and his large fish, but adjusted to be more suitably awesome for a hero of similar nature. Unfortunately, such a comparison implied the grim reality that one was within the soft, slimy innards of a creature - the exact situation the Servant and Master pair had found themselves in to prevent the squishy Frenchman’s death at the cold hands of Newtonian physics.

Albert could feel Berserker’s guttural growling through the semi-solid substance, and then might be able to see her tear herself from (or, perhaps it would be better to say she swam out of it?) the slime. “Absolutely disgusting,” she groaned once free from the creature, side-eying the golden Phantasmal Beast in all its age and gross gelatinousness. [color=ed1c24]‘Let’s clean up and regroup elsewhere, Master,’[/color]  Berserker transmitted, hearing the sirens in the background quickly approaching the scene of the explosion, [color=ed1c24]‘I don’t think the presence of a golden… thing… is going to qualify as something within the ordinary.’[/color]