Scene #6571: Assisted Suicide

Owner	Pose
Archer EMIYA	Moon Cell. A cluster of simulated reality marbles. A landscape in which servants, programs, and NPCs all live together in relative harmony. A place where those vying for battle wage a ridiculous war for dominance. A digital hell that some can't escape. Moon Cell is many things, but for the Heroic Spirit formerly known as Emiya Shirou , none of those descriptions probably matter. Archer is where he typically resides during his down time, within the emulated city of Fuyuki, or more specifically, outside the Emiya residence. Large stacks of wooden crates sit outside the entrance of the old Japanese estate, with Archer coming out to add one more to the pile. The servant's attire is untouched for the most part, sporting the same red mystic code atop a set of black body armor, though currently he wears a plain beige cleaning apron on top of it.
Nameless	"Trace, on." Gold circuits spread across black skin. They break around cold gold eyes. The Moon Cell is laid bare to the Nameless gunner from atop his position on top of a distant skyscraper. Memories swirl, half-formed, of a raging godling and an explosion. He remembered the explosion. He was pretty sure the red-coated man was standing here. It was the only clear part of his memory of that time. It was the only part of that time he cared to remember. Aiming a different way. But standing here. A pair of guns dance into his hand, gold lines tracing them into being like a quick-draw artist. He clicks them together, and they go from a pair of pistols to one long rifle with a murderous spear on the end. He does not need a scope. Scopes are for people whose eyes are not godlike. Scopes are for men other than Shirou Emiya. "I am the bone of my sword." He slots a red bullet into the gun. It's sharp, with three ridges on the end. It won't kill Archer. Not yet. No. Not yet. Not with one shot. Not that easily. After all, Archer hadn't killed him with one shot, either. He aims the long rifle. He waits for Archer to set down a box. For Archer not to be watching. He aims for the arm. "Bang." Bang. The red bullet goes streaking through Fuyuki, a crackle of lightning in its wake.
Archer EMIYA	Perhaps the red Archer is used to living in such a dangerous locale, perhaps the fact that the first line of his aria was is used (even though he couldn't hear it) instinctively kicked him into gear, or it might have just been the sound of a bullet traveling through the air towards him. Whatever it might have been, the nameless servant quickly rips off his apron, throwing the fabric as it is carried off by a convenient wind while raising a single hand in front of him in response. "I am the bone of my sword." Green, jagged lines spreads across Archer's arm, the servant's magic circuits pumping a considerable amount of magical energy as they work themselves. "The Seven Rings that Cover the Fiery Heavens: Rho Aias!" A petal like shield forms itself in front of Archer moments before the bullet can impact, cracking a bit on impact which causes the servant to strain his face in visibly discomfort. He doesn't have time to complain about it though, his life is clearly in danger. Dropping the shield, Archer calls forth a rather mundane bow with minimal effort in one hand, while his other free hand lights up once more with circuit-like patterns. "Trace on." In a flash of green lightning, a familiar spiral sword is summoned, its profile being stretched out to be more aerodynamic as it's loaded into Archer's bow. "Steel is my body and fire is my blood." Surprisingly, he continues on with his aria even as he pulls back the bow's string, his muscles flexing with the amount of force he's using. "CALADBOLG!" He lets loose in the general direction the Gae Bolg bullet had been fired from, not so much caring about pinpoint accuracy. Because as Nameless should know, this particular weapon doesn't care about accuracy. Screaming through the air, Caladbolg II slams itself near the building that they had chosen to perch themselves on. It explodes, and it explodes violently, taking out a rather sizeable chunk of the virtual building, if nothing else.
Nameless	He knows that shot. The spiralling arrow strikes the top of the building. It explodes. Chunks of steel and glass rain down on NPCs and programs below. The top of it is gone. The assassin, too. The assassin is gone because he's charging straight ahead. Parts of his flesh have been seared off. Parts of his skin have been burned straight through. His muscles are already rebuilding themselves. He's sailing on the explosion. He's using Caladbolg as propulsion. Familiar. The Nameless gunner runs along another rooftop after rooftop. Golden circuits beat against the inside of his pants. What does he care? The World supplies him. He can go as long as he likes. "A thousand blades wasted without purpose." The rifle separates. Twin guns, one silver and black, one red and black, each with murderous blades, split into his hands. He jumps off the roof, over the familiar courtyard. Bullets start raining down on Archer as the Nameless man arcs through the air, twisting into a spiral before he hits the ground. His gold eyes are cold and empty of anything like emotion. His hand releases one of the guns for a brief instant. Almost too fast to process - certainly for mortals, not so much for Heroic Spirits - he slots a new bullet into the other gun. He hits the ground, rolling, and levels the silver gun at Archer's chest over his red-clad elbow. His lips mouth a word too fast for Archer to read. Caladbolg. The bullet erupts from the gun. It's explosive, but it's a tight, compacted explosive - not the nuclear force of Caladbolg II but an armor-piercing shot designed to tear open insides.
Archer EMIYA	"I have created over a thousand blades.." Perhaps rather foolishly, Archer tries to advance as he continues his chant, assuming that his enemy might be too disoriented to retaliate. It doesn't work out exactly as plan however, as he's left trying to avoid a bullet at the last moment. Twisting as fast as he can to avoid being hit dead in the center of his mass, it goes as well as one realistically can expect. The bullets slams itself against the lower left side of his abdomen, easily piercing through the Heroic Spirit's body armor and causing an extreme amount of pain. Were he a human, he'd have surely have passed out (He's actually pretty positive he wouldn't have for some reason), instead he merely buckles down onto one knee, taking a moment to collect himself before pushing himself back up through sheer force of will. "Unknown to Death." His voice is clearly pained as he continues, but it never once wavers. The bow in his hand is discarded, left to disintegrate on the ground as a twin pair of black and white sister swords flash into his grip. "Nor known to Life." Kicking it into high gear, he runs to meet Nameless. He throws the black blade, Kanshou, first, though he's just as quick to throw the white blade, Bakuya. Perhaps unsurprisingly to Nameless, both blades are thrown to miss their mark, instead whizzing past him as Archer projects a second pair. "Have withstood pain to create many weapons." Attempting to cement himself in melee range, Archer closes in, using his second pair of swords to swing at the unknown servant's chest as the first pair already begin their round trip, their trajectory now changed to slamming into the Alter's backside.
Nameless	The Nameless gunner reacts instantly. He knows what's coming. He doesn't need to see it. It's like he knows it's coming before it does. So he lets the first two swords go flying past him. Both guns come up to meet the second pair. Barrels meet edges. Bang bang. Bullets discharged in a gunpowder parry. His feet flicker gold. He jumps. He's not quite fast enough to avoid the back. They cut into his back, drawing blood. He spins, so he lands at Archer's back. He's only holding one gun. The other one is still floating in the air in front of the red-clad bowman. The one floating in the air starts shooting, almost of its own accord. Underneath the red bindings of his left arm, blue-green circuits flare to life. It aches. It itches. He can feel foreign blades pushing into his body. Normally it was suppressed by the World. But he couldn't avoid it when he needed it. And he hadn't seen this weapon for himself. The red arm produces a dagger. It's twisted diagonals, glowing an iridescent sheen. "Lost Bolg." The bullet he fired at the beginning of the combat, lying on the ground in the aftermath of Rho Aias, leaps to life. It shoots at Archer, aiming straight for his heart. It won't hit. It's already hit, but he knows Archer. He'll find a way around it - either with Rho Aias or another trick. But it, and the white gun, are a distraction. He slots the dagger into the red-and-black gun. Severing. Binding. Cleaving. The blue glow under his red bindings dies down. "Lost Breaker." Bang.
Archer EMIYA	"I see. You think that the sins of my past really eat at me that much?" The chiding accent in the red Archer's voice is noticeably gone, replaced with a strong, almost commanding tone. "You're right in one respect. I hate myself. I hate the young me that foolishly thought that blind justice and vigilantism was true heroism." As Nameless suspected, Archer calls forth Rho Aias to deal with his altered Gae Bolg and bullets. The sound of the conceptual shield's first layer shattering fills the air, causing the them pain. They don't care though, they continue talking even as Nameless continues talking. "But if I tried to kill myself, be it actually me or some past version of me, what was learned? What was gained? Erasing your past mistakes isn't growing up, it's acting like a petulant brat. And if you know me well enough like you seem to do, you know I hate shitty kids like that. I live my life with no regrets. Can you say the same?" Despite knowing very well that this man is egging him to use his Reality Marble since he has something up his sleeve, he goes through with it. Yet, those hands will never hold anything So as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works. As Archer completes the chant, a heatless fire would spread from the servant's feet, altering the landscape as it spreads out and consumes the digital Fuyuki. The smell of ash and smog are now extremely prevalent while the ever distant sounds of numerous hammers banging against steel fill the air. Countless blades, some famous, others mundane, litter the field, and although they're still clearly in Fuyuki, the ground and general atmosphere make it feel more like an empty wasteland. A world that only fools that were saved by the sword and lived their life like one in pursuit of their ideals. The culmination of the Heroic Spirit that is in all actuality, probably Emiya Shirou. A large, tower-like sword erupts from the ground and between the two Archer's to block the oncoming bullet, cracking from the impact before ultimately breaking into particles. "This is my trump card, now please, show me yours." Lifting a single hand upward much like a conductor for a band, several more massive blade spring forth from the earth, attempting to skewer Nameless, or at the very least get them to show the hand they're clearly hiding.
Nameless	It's time. The field expands. The Reality Marble erupts across the Moon Cell. It overwrites everything upon a hill of swords. Gears in the background. Crimson sky. His left arm goes out of control. Swords burst from every crevice as the outer Reality Marble invades the inner. Without the World to suppress it, the foreign Marble is free. Once he's out of the Reality Marble it'll be different. But for now, he's down one arm. That's fine. The arm of swords hangs uselessly at his side. His golden eyes are locked on Archer's. The tower rises, shooting up along his side. He rolls, too slow. Sword clangs into swords. Part of the red binding comes off. The left arm is the wrong color. It doesn't match his skin. There's a long cut up it from the tower blade. Already, swords are sprouting from the cut. Already, blades are bursting forth - swords already in Archer's Reality Marble. The Nameless gunner's lips are moving as he does. His useless arm trailing beside him, he's running through the hill of swords, directly towards Archer. Blue light flares along his off-color arm, flooding into the Reality Marble. Swords rip themselves out of the ground and go shooting towards Archer. Easy for him to take control of. The lips are moving. "I am the bone of my sword." Gold streaks across his arms and back. A broken pot in the middle of the hill of swords. With enormous effort, in the middle of his run, he shoves the silver gun into the red one. "Rusted my body, dark runs my blood." "A thousand blades wasted without purpose." He grabs a sword from the ground, a replication of some blade or another, and hurls it. More blood from his arm. He doesn't care. His arm is pouring blue light. The blue light is pushing against the gold. A sword emerges from his elbow. He doesn't care. "Unknown to peace" "Nor known to justice" "My life, my name, my will, all spent bullets." He skids, like a baseball player. His off-color arm is raised, a blade lancing out of it. "These hands no longer have purpose." The gun swings up. "So as I pray." BANG. UNLIMITED LOST WORKS. The bullet shoots forward. It is not a bullet. It is a Reality Marble. It is this Reality Marble. Even if it misses, even if he fails to hit, it will strike the inner world. The world will begin to warp. Swords will erupt from the hill. Chains will tear through gears. If he does not hit, it will be a clash of willpower. If he does hit... Well. It will be much, much more painful.
Archer EMIYA	"Ah, so it's like that huh? I don't feel sorry for you in the slightest. But it's still very...Sad." Archer is hit with Unlimited Lost Works, and for a brief moment he reaches somewhat of an understanding before an assortment of swords and other weapons bust out of his skin. Were he a lesser man or servant, he'd have probably passed out and died. Unfortunately he was neither of those, so he's still conscious, feeling every bit of pain. The hellish landscape of gears and swords dissipate as he falls to his knees. "Well. If you want to end it all and get whatever it is you wanted out of this, now's your chance." Archer lets out a rather surprising laugh, though he's stopped part way as he begins coughing up blood. God, does he wish he was passed out right now.
Nameless	The hill of swords falls apart. The Nameless gunner pulls himself to his feet, wobbling. The blue light slowly fades. The swords disappear back into his arm, slowly knitting themselves together. He raises his gun and points it at Archer's head. "You're the unfortunate one. The one who's still sinning, and can't accept its necessity. This is a mercy. This is pre-emptive self-defense." "And." His cold gold eyes meet Archer's steel ones. "Your ideals are stupid." He moves to pull the trigger. Nothing comes out. All his prana's being spent suppressing Unlimited Blade Works in his left arm. Nothing to project. No bullets. He clicks his tongue against his teeth. He knows Riku is already on the way, probably already here. No Reinforcement, either. He's practically a human. So he bolts. He goes running into the streets of Fuyuki, heading for his extraction point.