Heartless didn't even get a chance to say anything before he was picked up like a sack of potatoes and slung over the Servant's shoulders. One second, he was mulling over his Servant's sudden need for intimacy, the next, they shot up and out of the hole in the apartment complex's ceiling.
The man couldn't even enjoy the smell of London's fresh if a little polluted air before they both flew through the rain in inhumane speeds. Far below through the hole they just left from, he spied more figures invading his office. Likely the second wave or a follow-up crew investigating the loss of their first group that Faker sensed.
"Eight of our—KIA, I repeat—Shit. Make that ten—KIA!" Rough chatter on the radio he carried was heard in the rain. He could barely make out the male's words, but through an auditory enhancement spell, both Master and Servant managed to make out the device's patchy audio. "We've lost the Tango Squad. I repeat we've lost Tango Squad. No sight of those responsible, command."
To that, Heartless relented a relieved sigh. "It seems we've escaped detection."
"Hmph." Faker, on the other hand, doesn't drop her guard one bit. "For now."
Despite the destruction of their hideaway, there was little change to London's dour demeanor. It was still partially raining and, apart from the raised siren and firefighter alarms ringing all throughout the city, one could be mistaken for seeing it as just another normal day. 'Normal' discounting the glaring lack of civilians milling about and a woman of a hyper-athletic build and Macedonian decent hopping from rooftop to rooftop amidst the pouring rain.
"KSHHH—All units, we have movement." Not a minute after the good news, the radio on Heartless' person hissed back to life. The distinct voice of a woman began reporting. "We have a possible sighting of our targets heading East-Southeast over Hounslow Park. Requesting teams Charlie and Delta move on to intercept. Approach with extreme caution. We have a Spirit-class threat on our hands."
"This is Charlie. Copy that command."
"This is Delta. We're in position."
Having heard all that, Faker's attention was already diverted to the distance ahead. According to the map of the city she familiarized herself with when they first arrived, they were indeed heading for Hounslow Park. "For an unknown that even your Mage's Association hasn't taken note of, they're quite efficient for non-magic folk."
"I suspect a number of the growing errant magi turning away from the Clock Tower are working with them." Despite his uncomfortable position as shoulder baggage, Heartless calmly assessed the situation and contemplated aloud. "Providing them the means to create their weapons and tracking equipment if not outright acting as their agents to sniff my kind out… Perhaps there's more to our would-be hunters than we first assumed."
An excited tingle travelled down Faker's spine. The question of whether they'd pose a good enough threat to warrant her getting serious wasn't asked. But she sure was damn curious.
"Still, better to be safe than sorry." Heartless, seeking to minimize the risk of conflict partially to Faker's dismay, listened intently to the commands thrown at the other end of the electronic box. "Faker, before we arrive at the park, circle North. We're intercepting one of the teams they sent after us."
"You wish to expose us?!"
"Indeed. But not to turn ourselves in." The man's smirk conveyed his intent before he even said it. "I wish for you to sow confusion and make them think we turned tail one way before we flee in the other direction."
"Very well." Kicking off the edge of a nearby apartment complex, they vaulted high into the sky and soared over what appeared to be a nature preserve.
The air was what hit her first. Though it was raining, the calming smell of grass and nature was a welcome change. It certainly contrasted sharply the bloodlust and steel that likely awaited them beyond the trees.
In the midst of their long jump at speed, Faker's eyes flitted to the right side. Their destination, a large open field, greeted them under the dim cloud-filled skies. Immediately, her Servant senses picked up movement on the road running down that very field. Trucks and armored vehicles, no doubt filled with soldiers as similarly armed as their attackers earlier, came to a halt and the men within spilled out like ants. Unlike ants, they fanned out in a formation, weapons ready, all of them tense and waiting for an engagement.
Faker and her Master dropped into a canopy of a giant oak. Despite the weight of the man, she landed in the middle of a tree's splaying branches with the grace of a cat, leaving only a slight dent in the oak as evidence of their high velocity impact. It was among one of its main branches that she saw it fit to drop the man for a moment.
"I leave you to it, Faker," he says before casually taking a seat, like sitting on the highest branch of the tree was to be a picnic. "According to the radio chatter, this team Charlie of theirs is three times larger than the ones we escaped."
'As if that would even suffice as a warmup.' She rolled her eyes. Wordlessly, the Servant vanished. Flitting through the astral plane and rematerializing at the edge of the treeline, she spied her targets from afar.
True to his word, there were at least thirty visible soldiers approaching their position through the field. Although saying 'visible' may not even be accurate. To the normal human vision, there may or may not be several shadows seamlessly swaying in the grassy field. To one who can detect and discern through illusionary magecraft, the ant-sized soldiers maintained a steady formation as they approached, firearms trained on her canopy of trees.
'Can't be caught, can't be caught…' she muttered, eyes looking for any wayward targets that could spot her if she made a mistake. She found her chance when her blue and pale grey eyes landed on an officer and his subordinate in the back. Unlike the others, the subordinate had pulled up his visor to go over a paper map of the area next to his captain. Both were talking to a radio and consulting orders as though they were part of the command structure. One that she saw was as exposed as a throat thrown back to take a huge gulp of river water. 'Ah, foolish, unblooded greenhorns!'
She was quick to vanish amidst the shadows of the rain clouds.
"This is Charlie-One," said the captain to his radio. "We've entered the park and are ready to move in to intercept."
"Copy that, Charlie-One. Maintain communication silence until further notice and proceed with caution. Teams Echo and Delta have already arrived from the East and South respectively. They're setting up their part of the perimeter and will be ready soon. You are to hold until then. Weapons free from here on out. If the targets engage you, you are free to open fire until Zulu Team is able to provide combat support. Over."
"Ho? So the Shah himself watches over us?"
The involuntary mutter was acknowledged with the hiss of the radio. "Watch it, Charlie-One. Note that we're deep in enemy territory. We don't know who could be listening in. Over."
"Charlie-One, copy that. We'll behave. Give our thanks to the Big Man, will ya? Over and out." Strapping the radio on his hip, he turned to his fellow soldier poring over the map of the nature reservation. "What's the matter, private? First witch hunt got you nervous?"
"N-not as much as I expected, Sir." The young man, sounding more a lad in his late teens, replied as he wiped a glove over his sweat-stained brows. "I'd heard mage-hunting was going to be extreme but… I didn't think we'd scare them off so easily."
"I suggest you keep your wits about you, kid. You can't predict those folks from your first encounter alone. Even I had my ass handed to me on a little raid back home."
"There were… more of them? In the republic's borders?!"
"They're everywhere the world over, kid. It's only because of the Shah that some have decided to turn over into a new leaf. If it wasn't for the boss' benevolent nature, I'd have sent them all to hell if I could. Monsters, the lot of them…"
There was apparent distaste in his tone. So much so that the private looked at him in disbelief. To emphasize his point, he pulled down half his balaclava to reveal a gash running down his cheek that looked to have, at one point, ripped open said cheek to the elements. The captain then tapped his scar lightly.
"Take this as an example. One minute, we were gunning down a damned lunatic hiding in the basement level of a rural hospital. Next thing you know, I had a farmer-turned-zombie trying to munch away my face. This is my lucky charm and your lesson to stay focused, got it?"
The private's eyes widened with surprise as he studied it. Scarred tissue marred his captain's brown skin with white streaks resembling four-fingered claws around a very obvious stitched-up tear. His earlier relieved tone turned a little jittery. "I'll… I'll stay vigilant, sir."
"That, you do, kid." Wrapping back up, the captain turned his attention to the rest of the troops before the radio hissed alive again. Taking a quick listen, he was back to rallying his troops. "Alright, men! We have our orders. Charlie Squad, fan out. Weapons free, people. Don't let any of these magus fuckers get away scot-free!"
""SIR!""
Their group started to move. Slowly but surely, they reached the canopy of trees at the far end of the field. It was then that the captain sensed something wrong.
A mist had started to form at the edge of the tree line. "Private. Do you see what I see?"
"The-the forest, s-sir?"
The answer had alarm bells ringing through the captain's head. Despite this place being a nature reservation, there were too few trees to have it called a forest. Hell, he knew for a fact that there should be a path that ran parallel to the treeline ahead, according to their intel of the area.
Which means, what he saw wasn't what was really there—!
"You're a seasoned one, aren't you, old warrior?" The captain turned to his left, to the direction of the voice. He stared into heterochromatic eyes but stopped dead and still when the glow both the pale grey and blue orbs turned stark gold. "That makes me feel more assured. A true warrior's spirit yet lives in the modern day!"
"KEH! GET AWAY FROM ME, MONSTER!" RATATATA—
The golden set of eyes vanished, replaced by the muzzle flashes of the private's firearm. One second, the old soldier saw the terrified visage of his subordinate. The next, he was looking up into the dull grey clouds. Half his vision was gone. The other half, it was stained by red pooling from the bullet wound on his forehead.
'Eh…?' the soldier thought for a second. 'What… happened?'
"Ah… A shame. Perhaps this is all you amount to, though…" It was then that a woman peered down on him from the side. Gorgeous as she was disappointed, she looked down on him with arms crossed. "I shouldn't have raised my expectations… A pity you must die to something as measly as this."
The captain then recognized the target they were briefed on mere hours ago. One of the deadliest foes they could ever face.
"A… Ser…vant…?" he choked on blood trying to speak.
"Indeed. It was just a matter of you being outclassed." The image then started to shimmer. The illusion of keeping him trapped even in death started to fade. All he had left was an ancient warrior's parting words. "May the god of war guide you back home, through the afterlife's desolate desert sands."
The illusion shattered and the quiet field shrouded in the deceptive mist unveiled the horrors of the battlefield.
Of the thirty-something soldiers that had gathered on this field, not a single one had been left unscathed. All of them had been laid to waste, dead or bleeding out horribly with nary a chance at rescue or survival. Craters and burn marks of grenades tossed haphazardly littered the grass. Weapons ranging from rifles to knives were left strewn alongside bloody messes as each of the combatants had gone down fighting, trying to kill whatever it was that they'd seen.
Sadly, under the guise of her Mystic Eyes, there was no monster, no other combatants. There were only the soldiers and their fellow men they stood shoulder-to-shoulder with.
"Not a pretty sight for yourself, I take it?" she sensed her Master's words through their bond.
"I'm not entirely a fan of subterfuge." Despite being raised for it to protect her king, she was still very much a battle maniac as her old friends were. This, the Doctor could infer from her reluctance to stay materialized in the middle of the massacre.
"You've succeeded regardless, Faker." The Doctor muttered to himself as he listened to the radio. Already, there was more lively chatter at the sudden eradication of Charlie Squad and follow-up orders for the other two teams to sweep through the area on their way to investigate. "Now, we wait for them to pass us by."
"Cutting it a little close, don't you think, Master?" Faker settled for materializing behind Heartless, leaning her back against the man as he crouched low, intently listening in on their foes' movements as orders could be heard being thrown through radio chatter.
"Not as close as you'd think. I've already set up a small Bounded Field around our spot to ensure we stay hidden. What's more, I prepared my stealthiest formula just so we can avoid whatever second-class magi sensors they may have trying to smoke us out."
Faker didn't look too convinced. Her Master's reassuring smile aside, they've already been spooked once. "I sent my Chariot racing through the skies with an illusory image of us on board to draw their eyes, but we both know that won't last long," she huffed as she crossed her arms, leaning back further against the man's own. "Even if this move makes them think we broke through and escaped Northward, what's to say they will vacate the Park in search of us at all?"
"Indeed! A reasonable concern."