Episode 52

                “Lady, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store.”
                                Ash Williams, Army of Darkness

                The two cars pulled up to the green yard. Out of the two stepped five forms of black and red. In the wind-swept street that went on for several blocks, the small group waited at the curb, hesitancy filling them all.

                Roland and Ledger looked over at Everett and he returned the worried glance. Both of the younger knights looked terrible, like they should have been in a hospital rather than out and about. But Armand by far looked the worst. The youngest of the knights looked like he had lost a fight to a blender.

                “This is his place?” Sydney asked, appraising the modest house from the sidewalk. She looked over at Everett. “He’s doing pretty well for himself.”

                “He’s a lyricist and a producer.” Everett said solemnly, returning his attention to the nondescript, but good-sized house in the middle of the suburb. “He’s produced a few big names in the area.”

                “I see.” Sydney said. She glanced back at the other knights, smiled a bit, and stepped forward, making her way across the yard.

                “Is she going to be okay?” Armand asked, across Ledger to Everett.

                “Why are you letting her do this?” Roland asked, next to Armand.

                “If you idiots can do dumb stuff, then she aught to be allowed to do it as well.” Everett said stoically.

                “But he’ll . . .” Armand said.

                The door to the house opened.

                The four knights held their breaths.

                Sydney stopped in the middle of the yard as Morgan stepped out. Dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt, he clashed heavily with the almost-formal outfit that Sydney wore. Her black trench coat fluttered in the wind as she stood before Morgan.

                “I hear you’ve been picking on some of my boys.” The dame said, resuming her walk across the yard towards Morgan.

                “Are you a woman first or a knight?” Morgan asked, his eyes serious as he stared at Sydney. The question stopped her thinking and the knights on Everett’s car looked at each other, puzzled.

                “Why do you ask?” Sydney asked after a moment.

                “Because I want to know if I have to pommel all of them,” Morgan said, noting to the four knights on the car. “After I beat the hell out of you.”

                “Stand down.” Everett said calmly without even glancing over at the three knights to his right. “She knows what she’s doing.”

                “She better.” Ledger said hesitantly, with a vicious anger in his voice.

                “I’m here as a dame.” Sydney said, her head held high. “I’m here as a knight first.”

                “Okay.” Morgan said. He stepped out from his doorway, walking towards her.

                “You have attacked my men and you have . . .” Sydney started to say. She didn’t get any farther.

                Morgan punched the girl right in the face, the blow knocking her down to the ground. She hit the grass hard, indenting the hard dirt before she skidded a full foot. When she looked up from the punch, Morgan grabbed her trench coat collar and started to run to her left, dragging her by the neck. She barely had time to recover her mind when she was thrown, back first against the neighbor’s mini-van.

                Everett and the other knights grimaced. Sydney slid off the van, a giant dent left in its side. “Do you yield?” Morgan asked, standing over Sydney.

                The girl jumped forward, tackling Morgan around the waist. But it felt like she had collided with a brick wall. Not giving an inch, Morgan wrapped his left arm around Sydney’s neck, holding her in a guillotine choke.

                “Do you yield?” He asked again, squeezing down on the hold.

                Sydney grabbed Morgan’s left leg and swatted down. With a sudden upward thrust with her legs, she pushed up powerfully, taking Morgan with her. The dame arched her back, suplexing the former knight down onto the ground.

                Morgan landed with the impact as did Sydney, but rather than roll with the force, he took the slam, biting down on the pain. He held the choke in place.

                Sydney grabbed Morgan’s wrist and fingers, attempting to tear herself free of his hold. But Morgan’s grip was too strong. She couldn’t make any headway. Slowly, everything began to fade. Sydney suddenly began to fight even harder, digging her short nails into Morgan’s skin, drawing blood. Morgan responded, however, but clamping down even harder on the chokehold.

                There were three taps.

                Morgan turned his head, feeling the tapping on his right shoulder. He looked over, to see Sydney tapping on his shoulder in quick bursts of three. Morgan waited for the next round, then he released the hold. Standing up, he left the girl on the ground, gasping for air.

                The former knight stood up completely, shaking his head, rolling his shoulders. He opened his eyes, the pain evident. He glanced down at his bloody hand, the skin over his knuckles carved off. He shook his head, then glanced back over at Everett. “Next time, have her bring her sword.” He said bitterly.

                “She could have killed you, Morgan.” Everett said, still sitting on the hood of his car.

                “And I her.” Morgan said, heading for his door. He opened it quickly and disappeared inside.

                Sydney lay on the ground, her eyes closed. She was coughing, her face covered in blood with her nose bent violently to the left. With her eyes still closed, she reached up with both her hands, taking her nose gingerly in her hands. She took a deep breath, then bent her nose back the way it was supposed to go, the resounding sound from the realigned cartilage filling her ears.

                “Ah!” She shouted in pain, releasing her nose as more blood coming pouring from it. She opened her eyes, to find Roland and Everett leaning over her. She looked up at them and laughed weakly. “Well,” She said. “That didn’t go quite as well as I expected it to.”

                “It never does.” Everett said, taking Sydney’s hand. “Come on. Get up.”

                “Slowly.” Roland added, helping the dame up as well. He knelt down in front of her, looking into her bloodshot eyes. “Can you see okay?”

                “I’m a bit woozy, but other than that.” She said. She blinked her eyes a few times, the blood flowing away with each blink. She bent her head over, shaking it slightly as blood poured from her face. “Jesus, when did he get that fast?”

                “You going to be okay?” Everett asked, standing up over her now.

                “I will be.” She said, holding her face. She looked up. “Here I was, coming to teach him a lesson in humility and I’m the one who ended up being schooled.”

                “That’s usually how it works.” Roland said, helping the dame to her feet.

                The five sat around the large wooden desk, dressed in suits, each with their own worries on their mind. In the dark room, the only light was from the outside illumination of the mid-afternoon. And coming in through the heavy shades, the light seemed weak, even for the daytime.

Aaron looked to Uriel and Errol first. “Okay, guys. What did you find?” He asked.

                “Well, the fortress that Miracle Workers have been devising,” Uriel said. “It’s a lot bigger than we thought. A lot bigger.”

                “How much so?” Aaron asked.

                “About the size of a small mountain.” Errol said. “We saw a model of it. It’s about as big as, I don’t know, about as big as say, downtown?”

                Aaron blinked.

                “Downtown’s almost eight miles in diameter. Maybe bigger.” Aaron said cautiously. Errol nodded. “Oh boy.” The leader said, folding his head into his hands. “That’s just great.”

                “It gets better.” Errol said.

                “Delightful.” Aaron said, sitting up. He looked at Errol, gesturing for him to continue.

                “I think that Phillip’s using the Hand’s steroids.” He said with confidence.

                “Any particular reason, or because he’s acting more and more like Jericho every day?” Aaron asked.

                “Because I found the same stock of them in the lab as I did in the Hand’s area.” Errol said. “If Phillip isn’t, they are either still being distributed to the other Clan members, or they are being researched. Since all the efforts of the Miracle Worker’s Clan seems aimed at this fortress, I think it’s doubtful that they’re researching a damn thing.”

                “Great.” Aaron said, his face sliding back into his hands. He looked up again after a moment. “You had said you had some trouble getting out.” Aaron asked. “How did you end up getting out of that place?”

                “We escaped.” Uriel said.

                “He let us go.” Errol corrected.

                “I don’t think so.” Uriel went on. “That boy did NOT let us go. That was too damn hard.”

                “He let us go.” Errol repeated.

                “He couldn’t have.” Uriel said. “That entire ordeal was too fast. There’s no way that he . . .”

                “He let us go.” Errol maintained adamantly.

                “Okay. Fine.” Uriel said. “He let us go. So what? What does that change?”

                “Everything.” Orson said, from next to Uriel. He looked over at the two others. “That means that Phillip’s on to us now.”

                Aaron nodded his head, confirming what Orson had said for Uriel. He looked back down at his hands, then to the four. “Okay.” The leader said. “Is there any other news?” He looked to Ian and Orson. “And please tell me it’s good news.”