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There were hundreds of Servants in Chaldea, and most of them didn’t fucking matter.
What was some toddler with a knife or a feral dog going to do against the end of the world? The Master tried to make them all feel appreciated, but when it came down to the wire they were only going to bring the same ten hotties to every fight. High-stars with slicked-back hair and flashy costumes that radiated energy from all of the magical energy they got given every day.
It was an ideal situation, really! There was no place saving the world for a weakling like Avenger. If anything, his job should be ending it! There weren’t any humans around to kill, so he might as well just lie back and slack off. He didn’t have a single blaze or quantum piece to his name, and he had no qualms keeping it that way. The only downside was how painfully boring the average day was. Watching idiot heroes beat each other up in the hallways or perverts failing to flirt with the staff lost its entertainment value quickly.
So, really, all Angra Mainyu found himself doing most of the time was sleeping. Sleeping and complaining. He had discovered that the rafters of the hanger bay were pretty good for sleeping in, as was the ventilation system. The actual sleeping quarters were one of the worst places to sleep.
Today, the incarnation of all of Humanity’s evils had opted to fall asleep right in the middle of a hallway, spread out across the entire walking area. No one had tripped over him yet. Disappointing.
When he did finally wake up, a scream hindered only by a sneeze echoed throughout the base. Something else had decided to sit on his face. It was fluffy. It was some sort of creature of unadulterated softness gathered up in a brown and white ball that fell to his lap when he jerked upright. It wiggled its tail at him in challenge.
Where the utter fuck did this thing come from?
The Avenger continued to scramble, hands and legs flailing as the creature tumbled unharmed onto the floor, sniffling and bouncing. This wasn’t that Fou thing that usually made a nuisance of itself, it was something else entirely, a fat little beast that lured you in with its innocence.
Regardless of whatever danger this thing might pose to others, he was the only one around right now, it had assaulted him. So what was he to do except whip out his blades and deal with it? He’d just chuck his fangs at it and go back to--
The knives hurled towards the furry threat, only to find themselves clattering hard against the ground as their target casually hopped further down the halfway, looking puzzled and mildly astonished at its assailant. It didn’t really fully comprehend what was happening. It knows no evil.
Angra Mainyu immediately throws his other weapon, only to attain a similar result, forced to dive to the ground to retrieve them. He succeeds in skidding to grip onto the handle of one of his weapons again, chin knocking against the ground as he does so, but finds himself staring into the eyes of his enemy.
Its tiny breaths make its nose wrinkle. It seems to tilt its head. One of its ears is dragging against the ground. They’re rather long ears. Oh.
It’s a bunny.
He pulls his arm up, straining to dislodge the knife from where it had stuck into the metal, hearing it creak and groan against his efforts. It seems to be coming undone, he can feel it wiggling, he’s going to be able to stab this thing and make some stew and--
There’s a deafening crack, and the bunny jumps several feet in the air, skittering away in shock.
The knife… Is broken. There’s a crack in the ground, blade buried up to the hilt, where the handle has completely split off and driven a gash into its owner’s hand where pitiful amounts of crimson blood are dribbling out.
“Fuck you!” Ignoring the wound, magical energy lashes out as the Avenger lunges for his other weapon. Darkness envelops the rabbit momentarily, trying to drain its power… And has no effect whatsoever. Is there even anything to remove from such a creature?
Angra Mainyu doesn’t manage to reach the second knife before the bunny has situated itself on top of his reaching hand. Its fur is softer than silk, the feeling of it against his skin more painful than anything he’s ever gone through. This shouldn’t be possible.
It sticks out its tongue, licking at his tattoos. It sniffs more.
He tries to move his hand. His fingers can’t do anything against the fluff continually worming its way in and separating them.
Fuck it.
It wasn’t going to make him hesitate with those big, shiny, dark baby eyes. Or its pouty, y-shaped nose. He was going to take this fluffball out if it killed him. Blood from his self-inflicted wound is smudged against the pristine floor of the Chaldea hallway and his forearm, being wiped around more as he reaches up to try to shove the cursed mammal off of his hand. When he finally touches it, blood taints its divine, cream-colored fur.
And that hand is also now useless, stuck in clumps of fuzz. The bunny inches forwards further up his arm. What, is it looking for carrots? He doesn’t have any carrots.
He can feel his energy fading, investment in the battle beginning to backfire and eat him up from the inside. A natural decay in his resolve as he loses feeling in his legs, showers of golden dust filling the hallway.
Is this too kind a way for a monster like him to go? Or perhaps, it is just hilariously pitiful enough that it is a fitting death for the weakest Servant. Condemned to vanish alone by his own folly, mind consumed by only the feeling of a fluffy bunny rabbit.
It’s nibbling on his elbow.
No one is coming to help him.