Turboshitter — Roleplayer Guild

Wes Downgate

The Shed, 8:00 AM

And then suddenly, Taiko drums. And pink light. And a spinning, talking mirror.

"Uh..."

"Fear not."

"Uhhhhhh..." Wes said.

"Your Vulpine Concubine has heard your call."

"UHHHHHHH..."

"The summons has been answered and salvation brought upon you! By my blessing, our union shall be prosperous in the face of all opposition!"

"Uh... huh..." 

The overblown theatrics finally stopped as a voluptous figure appeared from behind the mirror. She was tall, much taller than Wes (though again, not in and of itself an impressive feat). Her clothes were dark purple and she smelled of cherry blossoms as pink as her hair. But most importantly, she had eyes like a fox. And ears. And a tail.

Immediately the analytical part of Wes' mind went into overdrive. 

Okay, judging by the clothes and the drums she's definitely Japanese. Fox ears narrow it down further. She must be a kitsune. Probably a nine-tails. There have only been a few foxes in Japanese folklore and mythology famous or noteworthy enough to have their names recorded, which is bare minimum amount of fame required to qualify as a Heroic Spirit. And since she called herself my... "vulpine concubine", she must be...

"You're Tamamo-no-Mae, right?" he asked, hoping he hadn't gotten it wrong. Which means she's probably Caster. Though Assassin may not be entirely out of the question...

@Lonewolf685

Wes Downgate

 [The Airport, 6:30 AM] 

"Kid, I'm going to have to ask you to step aside."

The burly TSA officer looked down on the young man standing in line at the security checkpoint as he said this. Then again, the young man was noticeably less than five feet tall and probably looked like a 14 or 13 year old instead of a college student, so pretty much everyone looked down on him come to think of it. It was just sort of a natural state of being for him. 

Wes Downgate sighed, screaming internally as he put on a weary smile. "What's the problem, officer? Something wrong?"

"No," the TSA officer said, looking confused. "We just need to know why your bag has all this... blood in it."

Two large duffle bags filled with materials and two large coolers stamped with biohazard stickers lay open on a table next to the checkpoint conveyor belt. 

"Oh, those?" Wes said, looking at the bags then back up at the airport security officer. "I'm just going to a freemason Illuminati sex party for devil-worshippers. We cut the heads off of goats as a sacrifice to the seven-headed god Baal and then we commit acts of rape and sodomy covered in its blood."

The TSA officer stared at the little boy. Wes sighed. Sarcasm was lost on the witless, he supposed. 

"It's for a school project. I have all the paperwork for biohazard transportation filled out right here."

He flashed a packet of documentation with all the relevant signatures and approvals. Of course it wasn't really. It was just a simple hypnosis trick. Wes could've easily done this the legal way of course, but momentarily exposing himself to any coincidental observers as a magus was much less risky than leaving a paper trail with all his personal information on it saying he came into the country carrying gallons of animal blood and other magecraft related paraphernalia. Besides, the chances of him being spotted by another magus here were monumentally slim, so long as he didn't act overtly suspicious. 

The TSA officer squinted at the paper. 

"Huh. Okay, yeah uh... it checks out, I guess. You... you have fun with that, kid. Whatever it is you're doing."

Wes put on a fake smile. "Thanks."

"No problem. Fucking weirdo.." Wes heard the TSA officer mumble as he walked away. Yes, being looked down on was a natural state for him. But that just made it all the sweeter when he got a leg up on the people who said he couldn't do it. 

The new Master grabbed his bags and quickly zipped them shut. He exhaled. 

"Okay. Slow and steady wins the race. You can do this."

Painfully and arduously, the 18 year-old Clocktower student lugged his two heavy duffles across the airport. He was tempted to use strengthening just to make this a little easier, maybe not have to stop every few minutes to catch his breath, but he needed to do some things on his own, dammit. Besides, he'd already risked exposing himself as a magus once this morning on a calculated risk. That was enough. 

Finally he made it outside to the airport taxi, and dumped the bags in the trunk. He climbed in back, and for the second time this morning the taxi driver looked at him like he was a total weirdo. 

"What the hell you got back there, kid? Dead bodies?"

Wes decided to skip the sarcasm this time. "Just some supplies, sir. Here."

He handed the taxi driver twenty ¥50 coins and a piece of paper with an address written on it. A remote warehouse by the docks of Fuyuki city. 

"Can you take me to this address?" Wes asked. 

"... That's the docks, kid."

"Yeah. I know."

"So..."

"So?"

"Why do you wanna go there? Look kid, I'm not taking some random minor wherever he wants to go with no adult supervision and no idea what he's up to. How about you just take your money back and use it to call mommy and daddy? They can come and pick you up, alright?"

Wes felt and nearly heard a vein bulging in his forehead. 

"Actually, sir, my parents are both dead and I'm a registered adult attending college in London. You need to see my ID?"

Wes flashed his driver's license in the taxi driver's face, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was as old as he said he was. The driver's response was awkward. 

"Oh. Ummm... I'm sorry to hear that-"

"Please," Wes said, massaging his forehead. "I have had a really rough night getting here. Come to think of it, a really rough morning too. I just wanna get where I'm going. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, uhhh... sure, kid," the taxi driver said, starting the car. Wes plopped back in his seat, relieved. Their course plotted, he laid back his head and started to sleep as he awaited his arrival. In Fuyuki City.

 [Fuyuki City, Docks, 7:30 AM] 

"Uhhhh... you want what??"

"Your shed, please. The one by the edge of the property. I'd like to live in it for the next few weeks if possible."

"Look, kid, we can't really-"

"I'll pay you rent."

Wes dropped a heavy bag of yen coins into the man's hand. Five minutes later he had the key. He walked over to the shed, an old corrugated sheet metal building approximately seven meters long to five meters wide to three meters tall. Unlocking it revealed an empty room littered with old junk and lit by a single bare bulb. The floor was hard concrete, and there were of course tell-tale signs of leakage here and there. It was hardly the lap of luxury. 

But it'd do. 

Wes unpacked his sleeping bag and his laptop, setting his coolers of chilled blood aside. Leaning up against the wall, he quickly started making orders for various essentials to be shipped to the warehouse. Tools, mostly. Also living supplies, like a genny, a stove, some water and MREs. It was a start, but he had a lot of shopping to do over the next couple of days if he wanted to show up those geriatric farts running the Association.

Closing the lid on his laptop, Wes took out a paintbrush, some sketch paper he'd rolled up the night before, and all six pints of his blood he'd brought with him. He'd been hoping to save at least some of this, but he'd use however much he had to. He couldn't afford to skimp on quality here. 

Wes taped the sketch paper to the floor so it wouldn't move, then locked the door. He got on his knees. Slowly, methodically, be began to paint, filling in the gaps in the paper and drawing the circle on the floor in his own blood. As he painted, he ruminated to himself. 

It's all the Association's fault, he thought. No, it's the damn geezers up at the top who keep promoting this ass-backwards lifestyle we have for ourselves. Never changing, never truly moving forward, always clinging to titles and bloodlines and traditions. The world is changing. And I'm gonna make you change with it.

Finally, he was done. He hadn't brought a catalyst. That was the one thing he refused to steal from the Association. Not on any moral grounds or because he felt sympathy for people like Kayneth Archibald, the Lord El-Melloi. Because from the very beginning he'd known the only option for him was to let the Grail select someone who was compatible for him. 

He wasn't stupid. Many Masters had died before at the hands of their own Servants due to poor compatibility. He wasn't going to let his ego demand he summon a specific or even a famous or overly powerful Servant only to be killed by his own vanity later. He'd stick to his guns and make do with what he was given, like he always did. That was the best and only course of action for Wes Downgate. 

A lump formed in his throat. What if something went wrong? What if he forgot the words? 

He took a deep breath. "Relax Wes, you prepared for this."

Popping in his earbuds and playing a pre-recorded sound file of him reciting the chant from paper so he wouldn't get stuck, he began the summoning, bringing the circle to life with his words.

Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg.
The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate.
Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill).
Repeat every five times.
Simply, shatter once filled.
――――I announce. 
Your self is under me, my fate(doom) is in your sword. 
In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer.
Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead.
You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance ―――!

He stopped and smiled as the circle flashed, grinning ear to ear. He hadn't thought about it much in the middle of all the righteous fury and indignation, but he was actually summoning a Servant. He'd get to meet a legendary hero! 

His inner and outer nerds squeed. This was so cool! 

@Lonewolf685

Berserker

Out of time. This phrase was appropriate in more than one way to describe what was being summoned within that circle. Out of time, in a literal sense, first from a world three thousand years before this one. Out of time, in a figurative sense, to complete a task that would soothe her weary soul. And of course, out of time to rest, perhaps to dream. She was being summoned to this world because their was work to do, and people to kill. 

Time for war to begin. 

The last great queen of the Amazons opened her eyes to the mid-morning light. Information of a new and peculiar sense was taking root in her brain. Fuyuki, Japan. The Holy Grail War. Masters. Servants. The years that had gone by, the things that had happened. What had become of the world... If the cup hadn't pushed that part of her mind back, she felt like she might've screamed. Instead she was just a passive observer. The more she learned, the more it felt right for the world to be this way. 

Eventually, her mind and her eyes adjusted, and she looked around. She'd been summoned in her combat gear, draped in her usual fur mantle. Whoever had summoned her had taken shelter under a bridge to do so. 

A magus, she reminded herself. The words felt slimy on her tongue. She had dealt with spellcasters and witches before. The queen couldn't say she was fond of them. Being forced to work with one was hardly ideal, but it was necessary if she wished to sustain her existence in this world. 

Oh well, so long as it isn't a man... she thought, then turned around. A blond, rather strapping young man stood at the circle's boundary. The only one in sight who could have summoned her. Her, the mighty Penthesilea, queen of the Amazons.

It was at this point in time that Mad Enhancement became active for some reason and Penthesilea felt the shackles of madness overtake her. 

"Graaaahhhhhhhh!" she roared, pounding the ground with earth-shattering strength. The display was a fearful one, but as it continued unabated for the next few minutes, her abuse moving on to some rocks and then the support beam of the bridge, one couldn't help but start to look at it like it was a destructive child's temper tantrum.

@ADamnFiddle

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