[center][h1][color=Darkred]James Hartnet[/color][/h1]
[h3]Enroute to The Deacon Arms Tavern, Inverness[/h3]
Interactions: Archer of Red [@vFear]
Mana Remaining: 158/210
[/center]

James was quiet as he sat behind the the wheel of the car he had stolen in his escape from the blood-soaked battlefield that have engulfed Urquhart Castle, a silent thank you milling somewhere in the recesses of his mind for the piece of shit gangbanger that was his father for teaching him how to pick the lock and jump-start the engine. While he could have attempted to make his way on foot to the rendezvous point, he had decided to acquire his current vehicle for two reasons; Firstly, he could take a more indirect route to the tavern, meaning he could shake off any enterprising pursuers before he got there, and secondly, it gave him time to clear his head.

It was far from the first time he'd seen death that close, it was practically assured when you spend half your life in the arse-end of a city like Detroit. Hell, he'd already killed a man by the time he turned 13, so it wasn't the death that threw him off, even a massacre like that. It was the fact that Ayondale had, once again, found a way to fuck him and everyone else over one more time. He, truthfully, couldn't care less about the others, but they were the ones that would have let him stick his finger up at the man for once. Instead, he'd managed to kill off most of the students supporting the 6 Masters, 7 if you include Leon even though he lost his chance, and now he [i]knew[/i] that they were gunning for him, which meant he could prepare himself for any assault James or the others could attempt, bolstered by the fact he had the most powerful class of fucking Servant. An unaware and undefended Ayondale? James could take him out, with enough luck and careful timing. An alert, ready Ayondale backed by a Saber servant that won't fucking die and that soulless doll that thinks it's his daughter? No way in hell, even with 6 Servants and 6 other Mages. They were simply too inexperienced. His hands tightened on the steering wheel and it groaned in protest of his grip. 

He sighed and relaxed his grip as he tried to relax back into the seat with a quick glance to the passenger where [i]his[/i] Servant was situated. It was because Archer that he'd hijacked a car instead of his preferred ride of a motorcycle. He was vastly more comfortable on two wheels than four, but he wasn't sure if the servant to keep up with him in Phantasmal Form, if he could even access it, and he wasn't gonna risk having him sat behind him. Then again, he was thankful to have stolen something in the first place. After Saber had pulled his fucking zombie-mode, everything just went to shit... and that [i]thing[/i] in Ayondale's hand, it just felt [b][i]wrong[/i][/b].

[color=darkred]"Archer, answer me truthfully. What in the fuck happened back there?"[/color]

[hr]
It took just under an hour to reach Inverness, or at least a secluded side road 10 minutes away from it by foot, having gone the long way via Kiltarlity and Kirkhill villages. James pulled the car off the side of the road, killing the engine and quickly retrieving his rucksack with his supplies inside and his fire-arm Mystic Code in a discreet firearms case from the boot of the vehicle. The cheap hatchback had just enough fuel to get them this far, but with its purpose served it had to be removed, destroying as many links to James as possible. Releasing the handbreak, James rolled the car down the grass verge and into a shallow ditch before following it down and placing his hand on the surface. Carefully applying his mana, it began to spread throughout the metal like softly glowing orange cracks, filling every available space until the entire vehicle was cover and, with a final push of mana, the surface and interior erupted in flames. 

[i][b]Mana Remaining:158/210[/b][/i]

Burning car behind him, he climbed back up the verge and collected his bags without a word, motioning for the French assassin to follow him. A good 20 or so metres of walking went by in silence until James offered a quick warning and/or instruction, the events of the day finally catching up to him and the tiredness beginning to set in.

[color=darkred]"I give it 3 minutes until the fire reaches the petrol tank. Let's get moving."[/color]

The rest of the walk was uneventful, omitting the predicted explosion of the car's fuel supply, and James spent it in silence as he walked, at least until the Deacon Arms Tavern was finally in sight. He watched as the ridiculously golden figure of Berserker burst through the door and had to repress an agitated sigh. Was it too much to ask that they just meet up and sort this whole mess up [i]quietly.[/i] Shaking his head with a minuscule growl, he made his was over and opted for a vastly more polite option and tapped his knuckles against the door. The door open enough for a man to peer around the corner. The rough-looking man looked at him for second, as if sizing him up, before the younger magus spoke.

[color=darkred]"I'm here with Leon and the French kid."[/color]

The man grunted in confirmation and stepped aside to let him and Archer inside the building. He made a quick note of those present before he crossed over to the bar and sat down, not far from the Berserker pair but certainly not close enough to the inebriated Rider for her to select him as her next target. His drink order was brief and to the point, a Double JD with ice. While not enough to get him utterly wasted, it certainly helped him numb the experience of tonight. God knows he need it. He watched with no small amount of exasperation as the man he identified as Leon's uncle tried to hook the boy up with [i]Rider[/i] of all people and took a large mouthful of his drink before putting a hand over his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Rider was definitely attractive, but he had a feeling that Leon had a slight chance of finding out why sleeping with a Heroic Spirit is a bad idea...