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“Almost dying made me think. Not very hard, but…”
William
Murderface, Metalcopolypse
“No, grandma,” Everett sighed into the phone as he leaned
back in the computer desk’s chair, “I’m doing fine on socks.” A high-pitched old woman’s voice came
through the phone as Everett
stared blankly into space. Before him,
stacks of reference papers covered his desk while a blank white screen sat
ready. “I love you too, grandma,” he
said. “Bye. Yeah, bye.
I love you too. Bye.” He sighed, slumping his shoulders as he
groaned. He waited. “I love you, grandpa!” he yelled into the
phone. He waited. “Did he hear me? No.
I love you, grandpa! How ‘bout
that time? Yes. Good.
Alright, bye.”
Everett clicked the wireless phone off and
sat it down. He stared at the
computer, breathing out forcibly.
“Where was I?”
The phone began to ring.
“Right there,” he complained
before snatching up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Oy,” called Roland. “Ledger and me are coming over for a bit.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the only one who’s
still got an N64, besides Morgan, so yeah no, and we got a game at the flea
market today,” he said. “We’ll be
there in a bit, okay? Peace out!” He hung up before Everett could say anything.
Everett tossed the phone onto the desk, leaning
back in his chair. He stared blankly,
trying to pick between which of his frustrations he was going to get angry at
first. With a final shake of his head,
he sat up, placing his hands on the keyboard.
“Okay,” he said, settling in.
“Where was…”
The doorbell rang with a
distinctive echo of fate.
Everett looked up from his computer, his
eyes narrowing in violent annoyance.
He got up, grumbling violent slurs under his breath as he stalked
towards the front door. With an
agitated sigh, he checked through the peephole.
Alan Vick stood on the other side
of the door, four people behind him. Everett stepped back
and glanced to the coat rack in the corner where his ninjato was poised. He looked at the door for a moment, chewing
as he considered his options, and opened it.
“Hey,” Alan said in a friendly
tone as Everett
opened the door. “Sorry to just drop
by like this. I couldn’t find your
phone number.”
“But you could find my home
address,” Everett
said with civil annoyance.
“Yeah, well,” Alan nodded, a
little embarrassed. The black guy
behind him started to whisper and Alan turned quickly to him. “Dude, I’m telling him.” He turned back and laughed. “Um, we, we’d like the chance to talk. I guess, to discuss, a bit more formally,
some of what you and I got off on the wrong foot about the other night.”
Everett looked past Alan, to the four
knights behind him. “And these are?”
he asked.
“This is Dante Jones,” Alan
quickly introduced, clapping the black knight to his right on the shoulder,
“Ryoko Tsuyabura,” he continued with a glance to the Japanese woman who stood
with a hard gaze, “Eliot Dillion, and our most recent recruit, Matt Thompson,”
Alan finished, placing his hand confidently on the tall, blonde knight’s thick
shoulder, making him smile assertively.
“Uh-huh,” Everett said, unconvinced. He looked back into his apartment, his mind
quickly going to the sword. “Come
inside,” he surrendered with a sigh.
Everett let the five knights enter his
home. Holding the door open for them,
he kept his back to the coat rack, subtly moving the ninjato out of sight,
but easily accessible. Alan remained
standing as did Ryoko, while Dante and Matt sat in the chairs, Eliot taking
the center of the couch.
“Forgive me for being rude, Alan,”
Everett said
as he closed the door. “I mean no
disrespect, but what’s this about?” He
glanced at the other four knights.
“Ascension,” Alan said
quasi-dramatically, standing unobtrusively with his hands in front of
him. “The knights in the United States
have become a joke. We’ve become a
civilian militia, if you can say that much.
We’re viewed by the US
government, and its enforcement agencies, with polite indifference at best
and outright disdain at worst.”
“Well,” Everett ventured patiently, “there’s a
reason for that. Every knight knows
about the attempt in the 1950s by a group of knights to force their way into
the US
military. A team of knights tried to
take the FBI headquarters in Washington.”
“Yeah, we all know about it,” Alan
ventured carefully. “And we all also
know why they failed.” Everett was still. Keeping Alan’s gaze, he once again thought
of the hidden sword. “They failed
because of guns. They failed because
of firearms; pretty much the perfect embodiment of everything knights stand
against in the modern age.”
Everett waited for a moment and said “Okay,”
with an indifferent shrug.
Alan shifted his weight, choosing
between his next words. “Everett,” he said. “We want you to join our cause.” Everett
couldn’t help but snicker. “We want
you, and your team of knights,” Alan continued, undaunted, “to join with
us. The move against the Brotherhood
proves that the knights can organize, that we can unify.”
“Unify?” Everett asked rhetorically. “Unify as what?”
“As a true military,” Alan answered. Around the two, the other knights watched
the exchange, staying silent. “The United States
has five militaries: the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, the National Guard,
and…” He smiled, a flash of disgust
crossing over him. “And the Marines.”
Realization hit Everett in the stomach. “Oh, I can already see where this is
going,” he whispered aloud with reservation.
“It is our hope,” Alan said with a
glance and a wave of his hands to the other knights in the room, “to prove to
the US
government, to the world at large, that the knights can, and are, still a
valid military; still a force to be reckoned with.”
“Okay,” Everett said, stopping him. “You’re talking lunacy,” he disputed
emphatically. “You want to show the
world that we’re a valid military? Why
don’t you go join the military if you feel so strongly about it?” He looked over the others, shaking his
head. “You guys are hypocrites. You want to see a strong military but you
won’t do anything to further it. You
want knights in the military, but as knights, only knights, and not under any
banner.”
“No,” Alan quickly
interjected. “Under a banner. But under the banner of the knights.”
Everett looked away, holding up his
hands. “This is crazy,” he said with a
laugh. He walked a few steps away before
turning back. “You are mad.”
“Everett, we can do this,” Alan insisted.
“How?” he demanded. “How can you do this? How do you think you’ll be able to show to
the world that the knights are still valid?
What are you going to do? Storm
the FBI building again? You’ll get
shot up, just like they did.”
“No, we won’t,” Matt piped up
defiantly, getting ready to stand up.
Alan held out his hand, calming him back
into his seat. “We won’t be storming
the FBI headquarters,” he said. “We’ll
be proving to the world what knights really are.”
A chill ran down Everett’s spine. “What do you mean?”
“Knights are more than human,
Everett,” Dante said from the other chair.
“What?” he asked in lost
disbelief.
“I told you I was here doing
research,” Alan began to explain, his voice low. “Well, we found what I’ve been looking
for. And it proves what I, we, most
knights, already know to be true; that there’s more to being a knight than
just swearing the Oath of Chivalry, more to it than just carrying around a sword
and standing up for Right and Justice and Morality and Fairness.” He sighed out. “Everett,”
he said reverently. “The knights are
something more.”
“And you found this out?” Everett asked. Alan nodded. “And you have proof?” He nodded again. Everett
swallowed. He looked down, his mind
racing. Through his thoughts, the
sword by the door stayed constant. He
looked up, meeting Alan’s eyes straight on.
“Alright,” he said. “You have
my attention.”
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