Episode 139 Previous Episode	Next Episode
“Hold your head up high, For there is no greater love Think of the faces of the people you defend,” Cruxshadows, Winterbourne Sydney hoisted Eliot up onto her shoulder before slamming him down onto the dance floor. The hard plastic floor cracked with the ferocious impact and the smaller knight flattened out, dazed. The dame rose up, blood pouring from within her blonde hair. She had time to pant once before she was attacked from behind by one of the few standing Red knights. She spun around the failed attempt to impale her, grabbing the back of the man’s head, and sending him stumbling across the dance floor. She looked down at her feet, Eliot gone. “Son of a bitch,” she complained. She reached behind her back, drawing out her short swords again. A few paces away, Everett had Dante’s hands wrapped up. He jammed his head forward, smashing Dante in the nose with his forehead. Dante screamed and Everett moved to repeat, but Dante beat him to it, smacking his forehead into Everett’s nose. Everett fell back, disengaging his entanglement. The two knights backed away from each other, standing on the dance floor. “You know, we’re brothers,” Dante said. “We shouldn’t be fighting.” “I agree,” Everett said, wiping his mouth. “But you’re the one intent on killing.” “We’re not intent on it, just prepared to,” Dante retorted. He knelt down, retrieving his katana, Everett doing the same. “They’re barely people; they’re just mindless drones with no honor.” “They’re civilians,” Everett barked. Dante stared at him confused for a moment. “Who the hell are you talking about?” “The people you’re going to take hostage,” Everett yelled over the music. “The people that you’re going to hold as proof that knights still matter.” “Oh,” Dante suddenly said with a grin. “That stuff. Yeah, that’s bogus. We just gave you guys that stuff so you’d either sign up or get lost. Yeah, we’re not taking civilians hostage.” Everett froze. “You’re not taking civilians hostage.” He pondered for a second. “Then who are you taking hostage?” Dante smiled. “The enemies of the knights.” The door shattered into a rain of splinters. Edgar fell onto the rooftop, covering his face. He coughed and started to stand as Alan followed him out. “You know, it’s against my policies to kill people for simple ideological differences,” he said. “But you guys really are standing in our way.” Edgar backed up, moving in a circle towards the front edge of the building. “Ideology is just a fancy way of saying ‘I’m right and you’re wrong’.” “Maybe,” Alan said, holding his cutlass ready. “But I’m right and you’re wrong.” Edgar sighed. “Here we go again.” Alan lunged at Edgar and the senior knight parried and stepped to the side, returning in kind. Alan moved around the attack and sliced at Edgar’s sword hand, making him back up. Edgar spun his weapon in hand, readjusting his grip. In mid-spin, he hacked overhead with the saber, taking Alan by surprise. The attack forced Alan to leap back, but Edgar stumbled, over-extending himself, allowing Alan to slice at his hand. Edgar screamed, dropping his sword. He turned, holding his hand as Alan forced him away from his sword. With a kick, Alan sent the saber skidding to the far side of the building. Edgar backed away, holding his hands defensively. He took another step back, feeling the ridge of the building, the three-story fall just behind him. Alan waited, the cutlass lingering between them. “Surrender,” he said. Edgar smirked. “Do you really think a knight will surrender?” “Not a chance,” Alan said. “But you won’t give up, either. And I really don’t want to kill you.” “I really don’t want to die,” Edgar said, the wind blowing his hair. He looked down over the side of the building. “But we really don’t seem to have another option.” Alan began to inch closer. Edgar looked back over the side again, reaching the very end. “It seems a shame, too. We were really having a good swordfight.” “If you say so,” Alan said, his sword nearly to Edgar. “If only there was a way to continue it,” he said with a smile. Like a flash of light, a rapier rose up behind Edgar. He swung around, snatching the rose-hilted blade out of the air and he turned it on Alan. With a leap forward, he slashed at the knight, the blades clanging. Down below, Marilyn looked up at the roof, able to tell her sword had reached Edgar and the duel had continued. She turned towards the street to see Roland and Ledger dealing with Ryoko in the middle of traffic. The Japanese dame kicked Roland’s knee and moved to his side, but Ledger grabbed his collar and yanked him to his feet, keeping Ryoko between them and the flow of traffic. He extended his shotgun to fire, but she shoved the weapon upwards, opening him up to be impaled. Ledger slapped the blade away. His gun arm still restrained by Ryoko, he angled the gun down at her, firing. The shotgun blast tore down behind her, missing narrowly, but startling her enough for him to move, giving Roland space to kick her in the head. The strike knocked her off kilter and sent her careening into the road. The cars swerved rapidly to get out of the way as she got to her feet. She turned as Roland shoved his katana at where she had been. She rolled up, ready to fight, only to see the two knights not following. She moved to the far side of the street, leaving them in the center. “You’re trapped,” she called. “Maybe,” Roland yelled back with a confident smile. “But aren’t you forgetting something?” Ledger held up her katana. Ryoko looked down at her side, seeing her scabbard empty. She looked back at them, rage boiling over inside her. “Come and get it, honey,” Ledger said in as demeaning a tone as he could muster. Donovan was thrown over the bar, into the rack of drinks. He landed hard on the bar’s floor, expensive booze pouring all over him. Coughing out blood, he tilted his head back, letting the wash of alcohol pour into his mouth and he guzzled some before getting to his feet. On the other side of the bar, Armand and Matt squared off, their massive swords paired against one another. “You like being on the losing side all the time?” Matt asked. Armand responded with a diagonal slash meant to carve Matt from shoulder to waist. The brawny knight blocked the strike and lunged in with an elbow to Armand’s chest, knocking him back. Armand stumbled a few steps as Matt closed. The big knight swung his sword, getting some power behind it before he hacked vertically. His blade lodged itself into the floor of the dance club as Armand slipped to the side. Two rapid kicks to the chest and face and Armand leapt into the air, spinning before he kicked Matt in the chest, knocking him away from his sword. He swung again at Matt, but the knight ducked out of the way and pinned Armand’s hands. He punched Armand in the face and twisted around, taking Armand to the ground. He scissored his legs around Armand’s arms and bent them violently back, threatening to snap them at the elbows. Armand yelled, unable to keep his grip on his brand. The sword fell to the floor and Matt shoved it away, sending it sliding all the way over to Eliot’s feet. The smallest of all the knights in the brawl held his bowie knife like an ice pick, the handle by his jaw. Meanwhile, Sydney, covered in her own blood, was ready with both her short swords. Eliot jabbed quickly at her with his non-knife-wielding hand, making her slash at the attack. He nicked her quickly but viciously on the side, drawing more blood. With a cruel smile, he retreated a bit. “Enjoying the game, dame?” he asked. “I’m going to skewer your worthless ass,” she growled. She hacked at him with an overhead strike, getting him to move out of the way. As he moved to riposte, she jabbed at him with her other sword, catching him on the arm. He shouted, his call of pain being echoed by Dante’s cry. With Dante’s fingers in his grasp, Everett twisted the black knight’s arm around and kicked the back of his knee, knocking him down. Everett turned with Sunstorm, surveying the damage they had done. He pushed Dante down to the floor and knelt on the small of his back, pinning him. “Sydney!” he called. “Need help?” On her back on the floor, Sydney fought with Eliot, his bowie knife tip just inches from her throat. “I’m good!” she yelled back as best she could. “Armand!” he called. With a loud crash, Armand was shoved into the bar, Donovan next to him, both dealing with Matt and two other Red knights. “We’re just f*&king peachy!” he yelled back. Everett looked to the door to see the Crimson Rose standing deathly still. He was about to call to her when he realized she was looking at something. He turned and looked towards the far side of the club, to see Alan coming out of the rear, carrying his cutlass and Edgar’s saber with him. The knight stopped at the door, seeing Everett with Dante pinned. He held out Edgar’s sword and dropped it demonstratively on the floor. “Oh no you didn’t,” Everett said coldly. “Somebody is about to die.” “Yeah, you,” Dante said before getting punched in the back of the head. The blow knocked him out instantly and Everett got to his feet, facing Alan.
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