[center][h3][color=red] June 30th, Franz Burine Plaza Hotel[/color][/h3][/center]

Candles burned brightly in the hotel room. With a steady hand Katherine painted flowery text across the man’s flesh. He was calm, breathing easily. His eyes looked up but didn’t seem to register where he was at. Katherine set her brush down and muttered to herself. The man convulsed on the table before going slack. He slowly sat up, his runes glowing faintly. She led him out of the room with a gentle tug of the hand. In the adjoining room, more people waited, eyes blink and postures lax much the man. There was twenty or so. 

The runes glowed in the low light of the hotel room, as she felt her mana drain a little as her mind became linked to theirs. Her mind reached out to the many more watching, waiting. She was a little proud of her work, she’d never commanded so many people at once before. Some were staff, others strays off the street. At their feet were an assortment of firearms, knives, chains. Boston’s underbelly was thriving so finding such an inventory was child’s play. For weeks she’d been working on this little trap, readying it. She smiled and walked out of the room and to the elevator. The lobby was bustling with activity as a punk rock crowd was gearing up for a night they would never forget. 

“Did you enjoy your stay?” The receptionist asked as she passed the front desk. 

“It was wonderful thank you.” She settled her account. Out of the corner of her eye she watched a young man in the lobby. He was settled in a plush armchair pouring over a book. He was handsome, well built, definitely arm candy. He looked a tad haggard sadly, hollow cheeks, bags under his eyes. On his hand a red mark sat, identical to her own. They’d fool the eye at a distance. Close up… but that was what Berserker was for. He was a Mage, low caliber, second generation, third maybe. He had had the intention to summon his own Servant, take part in the Grail War. He would get his wish though not how he’d envisioned. 

The night air felt wonderful after being in that stuffy hotel room for days on end. Her hands had even begun to cramp! She walked into the building crowd waiting for the concert to begin. She looked like some punk rock reject, not her favorite fashion. Worst part was she had to cover her lovely tattoos. She was shoved into a man with way too much cologne. Growling, she pushed back. God, she hated crowds! She took a deep breath- sacrifices, sacrifices. 

“Don’t murder the flesh bags, don’t murder the flesh bags,” Katherine recited. The mantra kept her sane. 

A strum of a guitar signaled the concert beginning. Katherine gave the order. I’m the hotel she sensed her pawns pick up the weapons at their feet and begin shuffling toward the door. Inside the lobby she materialized the connection between her and her… assistant. She bade him to stand and through his mouth uttered a few words. She sensed a bounded field go up. Subpar at best and of her own craft. She was forced to give off the impression of her proxy being the real Master, that meant mimicking the skill of a truly inexperienced Mage which was a bastard unto itself- the boy had only been a student at the Clocktower for fuck’s sake. 

Sadly she’d had to… dismantle his circuits some or her art wouldn’t take, cutting her off from his repertoire. He still had a few of course. It’d taken her nearly a month to prepare her good little proxy, even weak Mages had an abundance of will. He’d broken as they all do. In her mind he prepared the incantations necessary to begin syphoning mana from the souls of the crowd to power Berserker. 

Then the pawns broke through the ornate glass doors of the hotel. Bursts of gunfire screamed over the music as people panicked and ran only to find themselves locked into the plaza by the bounded field. Katherine played her part and was intent to watch. Berserker’s only order was to protect the proxy adding to the act further. How he accomplished that was up to him. It was odd, what she read of the Grail War told her Berserkers needed explicit instruction, but hers seemed lucid, intelligent enough to handle himself. Thus she would let him rely on his own autonomy. She would see how Harald waged war.

She ran with the crowd only to be tackled by one of the pawns. He gripped a knife in hand. She fought him off. All part of the play. She clenched her teeth and muttered a single phrase. 

“Come and find us.”