Crimson Steel

-Prelude- "Back in the Saddle"

Napoli, Italy

“Get those boxes in the fucking boat, now!” Guerino Valentino yelled across the warehouse. He was already regretting wearing the three piece suit and hat as Napoli’s heat didn’t seem to care that it was January. Not to mention he and the boys now had to clean this place out. Word was that the Association pukes were hitting operations all along the coast. Latina and Terracina were already in flames.

Guerino didn’t know the first thing about magic or mages or witches or whatever, he just knew that this little operation set up by the big boys was lining his pockets with gold. Sure, he didn’t particularly like the fact that they were practically caging up little kids and hooking them up to some god-awful machine, but he wasn’t ‘not liking’ it enough to complain.

Of course, operations like this had a new level of danger with them. Something called the Mages Association or whatever was hell-bent on making sure these operations didn’t exist. They weren’t like normal cops, either. They tended to skip the whole questions part and get right to the execution. And apparently, they were on their way here.

The plan was to load the ‘equipment’ onto the tanker and set sail for New York. Guerino didn’t like the idea of riding in a stinking boat all the way across the Atlantic, but the big boys had promised a bit of compensation once he was back in the States. And despite all the danger of being ‘magiced’ to death, he was anxious to return back to Manhattan.

The thought of his home was a jinx like normal, as he looked up to see an odd red explosion rip through the loading ramp. Guerino pulled out his .45 ACP and squinted to see if he could catch a glimpse of the attacker. When the dust settled, the first thing he saw was that their way onto the boat was severed. Loading anything else after dealing with this prick was going to be even shittier.

He heard his boys yelling and then saw the pair himself. One of them was tallish and built, and the other one… the other one had to be a woman. Despite recent trends, he couldn’t see a guy wearing that long of flowing hair. Never one to be overly chivalric, Guerino called out, “WASTE ‘EM BOTH, BOYS!”

The familiar clatter of Kalashnikovs filled the air as he squeezed the trigger of his own weapon at the pair of silhouettes. Guerino blinked as he swore he saw flower pedals extend from the built guy right before the area was engulfed by smoke. He swore as he realized that there was far too much smoke to be coming from the AK fire.

Before he could call out a warning, streaks of off green fire arced out of the plumes of smoke. Horrified, Guerino saw that each one sought out and struck one of his boys. One by one, they doubled over and fell to the ground. Before any more could come for him, he quickly hit the magazine release on his .45. The magazine hit the ground noisily and he scrambled to get another one from his pocket.

He wasn’t sure what had happened at first. There had been a hissing noise, and then his gun had been wretched from his hand. The pain from his hand being hyper extended blurred the next few seconds, but he could plainly see now that his gun was laying in pieces on the ground, next to… a sword?? He turned back to see the pair was now closing in on him.

A wave of panic pumped through him and he tried to run three ways at once. He successfully sent himself on his ass, watching the two of them as they approached. The guy looked to be in his twenties, had coppery red hair, and wore some sort of red racing jacket. Underneath the jacket was an armored vest, although it didn’t look like any he’d ever seen. The kid had on black pants with shin and knee guards above some heavy-looking boots. He looked more like some post-apocalyptic hero than a wizard.

He then looked to the woman, who he could now see was breathtaking. She had long raven-black hair flowing freely down her back, and wore a long red duster. Under the jacket, she had on jeans with a large hip-belt with a whole lot of pouches on it. If she had the pointy hat, she could probably pass as a witch of sorts.

The kid stopped several meters away from him and kept a silent watch, while the beauty came up to address him. The clack of her boots seemed deafening to him as she stood directly in front of him and stared down into his eyes. She had a smirk on her face, as if she was enjoying watching him squirm. …Definitely a witch.

“Well, well,” she said. “I’ll assume you are the head of this snake?” Her voice was an odd mix of Asian and British-accented English, but none-the-less complete velvet. Guerino found himself a bit lost before the girl kicked him lightly in the shin to get him to respond.

“Yeah, this was my gig. What of it, bitch?” he said in his normal courteous manner.

She crotched down and rested her elbows on her knees. Her hands were loosely together in front of her and she looked him straight in the eye. “Let’s make this real easy,” she started. “Just tell us whatever you know and we’ll be on our way. I won’t promise nothing will happen to you, because it will. The Carabiniere are probably already on their way.”

He didn’t even try to stifle the laughter belching forth from his gut. He shook his head as he laughed, letting the woman know he thought she was fuckin’ ridiculous. “Yeah… That’s a reaaal good one,” he choked out between laughs. “Everybody knows you Association pukes don’t not kill people! My lips is sealed, darlin’.”

She herself smiled and chuckled a bit. Guerino was beyond caring at this point. There came a time in this business that you just kinda forgot to fear death. Well, that’s not completely true, but when it came down to this, he knew his time was up. Why not make things as hard as he could for these assholes.

“That’s very true. The Association would have already murdered you, or possibly extracted the information out of your head forcefully, leaving you a vegetable,” she replied to him. Her cool aquamarine eyes never wavered once, burning into him whether he met her gaze or not. “But, lucky for you we’re not the Association… technically.”

A trick, he thought instantly. The bitch was going to grease him the second he gave up anything, and therefore was getting jack-shit. He huffed at the girl and spat next to her boot. She sighed and finally broke that death-stare, closing her eyes for just a moment in frustration.

“However, unlucky for you, I’m not very patient, as this chap will tell you,” she said and motioned to the road warrior. He let out a slight laugh, kinda shattering the whole stoic thing, but was still highly intimidating. His eyes were sharp, and his pose was that of one that knew how to handle himself. “So, the aforementioned techniques are still a viable option if you wish to exercise them,” she finished.

“So, the deal is, I give up some names, and you ‘don’t kill’ me as much as you did all my boys?” Guerino said, his mouth reeking of sarcasm.

“Actually, yes,” she said, matter-of-factly. He cocked his head at her, giving her a perplexed look as she held her hand to her ear, telling him to listen. He didn’t hear anything at first, but bit by bit he began to hear the moans of his boys. They really weren’t dead, just as she had said.

“But… the hellfire?” he managed.

She chuckled at him and said, “Hellfire? All I did was hit them with a gandr, a curse. There’s nothing lastingly wrong with ‘your boys’, but there’s a good chance their going to be running a fever for a few days. And I’ll imagine some of them will need a change of knickers after all is said and done, as well.”

He dared to return her stare, threatening to drown in the aquamarine, and said, “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

She smiled and bared her teeth ever so much. “You don’t!”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Shirou Tohsaka leaned against their crimson M5. He smiled and chuckled as he and his wife looked over down to the warehouse. The local authorities had shown up after their rude detainee had finally told them everything he knew. Rin had called Sensei, telling her where the main culprits were, and she was probably there now, leveling the place.

“You certainly have a way with words, dear,” Shirou said as he turned to get into the BMW.

She caught his arm and spun him around, giving him a quick kiss. She opened her brilliant eyes at him, which to this day still sent lightening down his spine. She gave him a sloppy grin and said, “Well, we both can’t just talk with swords, now can we, love?”

He returned the smile and opened the door for her. She hopped in the car and he walked around, giving the warehouse a single last look. He enhanced his vision to see the children being led to a row of ambulances. Orphans, just like him. He shuttered a bit and got in the car, starting it up and beginning the long trip back north.