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“See, the sad thing about a guy like you is, in 50
years, you’re gonna start doin’ some thinkin’ on your own and you’re going to
come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life: one, don’t do
that, and two, you dropped a hundred and fifty grand on a f*&kin’
education you could have got for a dollar fifty in late charges at the public
library.”
Will Hunting, Good Will Hunting
For a moment, Everett allowed Alan to keep the sword at
his throat.
Each time he swallowed, he could feel
the sharp tip of the blade scratch his skin as sweat trickled down the side
of his face. He stared into Alan’s dangerous
eyes, watching his attention to see where it traveled to.
In a flash, Everett slapped the cutlass’ blade away
with his palm. In the same motion, he
wrapped his right arm around Alan’s sword hand, pinning Alan’s arm against
his neck. As Alan started to counter, Everett looped his foot
around Alan’s leg and tripped him, the two knights falling against the side
of the apartment building.
In close quarters, Everett kept Alan
locked, a harsh gaze staring down into the knight’s eyes. But after a few sobering breaths, Everett slowly released
the hold and stepped back, leaving Alan to slide down onto the pavement. “I don’t know who you think I am,” he
warned Alan, “but I am not him.” He
started to circle back to his door, keeping his body ready. Alan got to his feet, circling around as
well, his cutlass still drawn. “I’m
not sure who you’re used to fighting, but testing me is the last thing you
want to do.”
“Testing you, huh?” Alan asked.
“I have gone to considerable
lengths to avoid fighting you,” Everett
said, his eyes never leaving Alan’s.
“I do that, not because I’m afraid, but because I deplore
violence. But so help me, if you force
me to fight you, it will be a mistake that you will not live long enough to
never forget.”
Everett’s words echoed in Alan’s ears. The knight could see the threat rattling
around inside Alan’s head as he weighed the possible outcomes of a true confrontation.
“I want a future for the knights,”
Alan insisted, remaining in a defensive position before Everett.
“Not one of skulking around in back alleys and being little more than
the fist of the local neighborhood watch.
A real future, one with a seat at the family table of the militaries.”
“A future like that never comes
through force,” Everett
maintained calmly. With Alan’s coat
falling the way it did, Everett
couldn’t keep a clear eye on his shoulders and hips, couldn’t be certain where
his weight was and where he might move to.
In the back of his head, he cursed himself for leaving his own trench
coat and sword in his apartment.
“Force is, ultimately, the only
thing that has ever accomplished anything in life,” Alan disputed. “In this day and age, we have a
civilization that tries to replicate force with reason. But reason is only adhered to because of
the threat of force behind it. We
don’t listen to the police because we’re supposed to; we listen to them
because they have the guns. Politicians
don’t listen to voters because they believe in the system; they do what the
voters choose because if they don’t, the voters will rise up in rebellion.”
“Violence, force, whatever you
want to call it,” Alan maintained, “is the source of all power in the
world. If you command that force, if
you can control it…”
“You can’t control violence,
Alan,” Everett
said. He took a breath, bracing
himself. “Jericho thought he could do that. And Jericho’s
dead because of it.”
Alan smiled. “Jericho
tried to make knights. I’m only
trusting in the genuine article.”
The words pricked Everett.
“What do you mean, ‘make knights’?”
Alan stood up straight, a
confident smile replacing his angry glare.
He slid his cutlass back into its sheath by his waist. “It doesn’t matter, Everett.
Because it’s part of a plan that you choose to have nothing to do
with.” He stepped back, bowing his
head a bit. “This will be the last
time we meet civilly. From here on
out, blue knights will be treated as traitors by all red knights loyal to the
cause.”
“You’re making a mistake, Alan,” Everett implored. “One that, when it fails, will drag
everyone down with you.”
Alan smiled. “All for one.”
Everett smirked cynically. “It’s funny that you’d quote the
Musketeers,” he said, seeing the sharp point get Alan’s attention. “After all, since they were trained to use
muskets, aren’t they everything that you’re supposed to hate?”
Unable to respond, Alan turned
away. Everett backed to his door, but stopped
when Alan stopped. Without looking to Everett, Alan’s smile
spread across his face. “You know, we
could finish this now. Just you and
me.” He looked out past the bushes by Everett’s door to the
small grassy yard just beyond.
“There’s all the space we need.”
Everett’s blood ran cold with anger. “Are you challenging me to a duel?” he
asked, still facing away.
Alan turned back to Everett, the bright
light over him making his sharp, intense eyes seem to glow. “It’s entirely likely,” he answered
indistinctly.
Everett breathed out slowly, turning his unblinking
eyes to Alan. “Now that truly is the
last thing you wanted to do.”
Faster than Alan could blink, Everett was next to
him, bringing his elbow up into Alan’s jaw.
The rising blow knocked Alan’s chin up, allowing Everett to loop his arm around Alan’s head
and throw himself back against the wall, slamming the crown of Alan’s head
into the textured wall of the apartment.
Just after the impact, Alan
slammed his own elbow into Everett’s
side, forcing himself free. Everett kicked at the back of Alan’s knees, but the red
knight locked his legs, letting the blow connect unremarkably before snapping
a sidekick at Everett.
Everett caught his foot and kicked his
other foot out from underneath him.
Prepared for the attack, Alan slid into a split, supported by Everett. Leaning over his leg, he punched Everett in the stomach,
freeing himself. He landed still in
the split and spun around on his shoulder, his legs splayed wide like a
tornado, forcing Everett
back.
He flipped up to his feet, drawing
his cutlass again. Seeing the steel
blade drawn, Everett
backed up, considering his options.
Alan held the blade between them, his left hand by his face to deepen
his defense. “Put the sword away,
Alan,” Everett
said threateningly. “I’m unarmed.”
Alan thought for a moment, his
breathing heavy. “I’m honestly not
certain I’m inclined to extend the honor of a duel to traitors.”
“Either put the sword away,” Everett offered, “or I
will take it from you.”
“Please,” Alan said, “try.” Everett
set his feet, ready to move. Alan
shifted his weight, ready for the conflict to continue.
“Um, excuse me?”
Both knights froze. Alan moved his blade to use the polished
surface as a mirror to see over his shoulder.
Likewise, Everett
looked beyond him, to see Marilyn looking apprehensively between the
two. “Hi,” she said awkwardly with a
little wave. “Am I interrupting
something?”
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