Episode 096 Previous Episode	Next Episode
Knightstrike From Sydney’s perspective, the fight began like all fights do: in slow motion. As the music thumped behind her ears, she became aware of movement behind her. As Erik and Alan stared at each other, talked at each other, barked at each other, she glanced over her shoulder. She saw Matt sliding subtly into a defensive position behind Donovan. The British hooligan was aware of the knight’s approach to his 5 o’clock. He let him get close. Sydney started to turn back to Erik and Alan when she heard the blow. In utter silence, she turned around to see Matt falling back against the stairs. Standing over him, Donovan’s cocked fist was balled up. Blood from Matt’s nose covered Donovan’s elbow. Rather than jump into alert, Sydney’s shoulders slumped. “Damn it,” she cursed to herself. And then all hell broke loose. Twelve Red Knights converged on the five Blue Knights. Sydney turned around as a knight in a black, baggy over-jacket lunged at her. She slipped her hand in between his two arms meant to restrain her and grabbed the back of his neck. Holding his scruff, she threw him at Alan as Erik backed away, drawing his Viking sword. “No matter where it is or who it is,” Roland yelled over the din of the blossoming fight, drawing his katana. “Some idiot always starts a fight.” He set his eyes forward at two knights, both with katanas. He breathed out calmingly and moved for them. Sydney drew out her right short sword, staying by the steps. Eliot approached her, his bowie knife drawn. Roland hacked overhead at the knight on his left, using the clang of the two swords to rocket his sword horizontally at the other knight. Slicing at neck level, he re-angled the blade and jabbed his katana blade back at the left knight, forcing him back. Keeping his sword still, Roland leapt at the right knight, driving his elbow for his face, forcing him back up as well. Eliot hacked at Sydney with his bowie knife in an ice-pick grip. She slapped his offending arm off-course and stabbed with her right hand for his head. Eliot snaked his free hand between her crossed-up arms and reached around her head. Twisting around, using his own body as a fulcrum, he yanked Sydney off her feet, flipping her over headfirst. Erik held his sword behind him, a stalwart look at the two knights that approached him; one carried a pair of hatchets, the other carried a rapier. He let them close and swung in a broad arc for the one with the hatchets. The knight crossed the twin weapons and caught his sword against their bodies. At the same time, his partner slashed at Erik’s body, drawing a deep gash along his midsection. Richard hit the ground of the dance floor, his face bloodied. Unarmed, he started to crawl away as Ryoko came up behind him. Her sword still in its sheath, she stalked him, a blood lust in her eyes. A Red Knight was thrown into the bar. Donovan grabbed another by the collar, punched him in the face, then shoved him back as a third knight hacked for where his head had been an instant ago. Donovan ducked down instinctively and drove his black Mohawk into the knight’s face. He followed with a huge haymaker to the knight he had shoved, knocking him off his feet. Sydney backed away from Eliot, both her swords drawn now. Eliot smiled as she retreated and lunged for her. Dropping both her swords, she clapped her hands together with Eliot’s head in between. Slapping both sides of his head, she disorientated him long enough to grab his hair and yank his head down while bringing her knee up. The music was drowned out by the force of the impact to his face. Eliot hit the floor, unconscious. Sydney turned as Roland backed away from both his knights. They glanced backwards to see Donovan and Erik being herded onto the main dance floor as well, where Ryoko stood over the pool of blood that was Richard. Around the dance floor, the people waited catatonically. As if completely indifferent to the fight, the crowd of people waited as the Red Knights corralled the five Blue Knights into a circle. Roland and Sydney came shoulder-to-shoulder. “Well, this isn’t going according to plan,” he confided, bleeding from his neck. He looked over at Erik, his mid-section bleeding. “You got cut already?” “I’m not used to fighting other knights,” he gasped, looking pale. Donovan joined the three other still-standing Blue Knights. “What do we do?” The remaining Red Knights formed a tight circle around the Blues. Before Roland and Erik, Alan approached. “Surrender,” he said. “F*&k you!” Donovan shouted. “I’m with the Brit,” Roland said. “Twelve on five?” “This isn’t a duel,” Alan said over the music. “This is war. You invaded. Don’t go whining now.” “Whining isn’t what I had in mind,” Sydney said, twirling her short swords. She looked at the knights, their red shirts lit by the rapidly changing lights from above. “I’ll take you each on, one at a time. When I beat all of you,” she glanced at the unconscious Eliot, “like I did him, you let us go.” “No,” Alan said. “You don’t get to change the rules of the confrontation halfway through it.” He drew his cutlass. “We’re going to finish this right now.” Roland grinned, shouldering Erik out of the way so he stood directly in front of Alan. “Okay,” he said, staring the Red Knight in the eyes. “I like the sound of that.”
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