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Episode
169
“Spare me, Bones. I don’t want to be lectured.” The sun was already descending when Everett stepped into the near-empty Laundromat. The whirling and constant hum of the machines drowned out beeps of the two pinball games and the single, years-old arcade game in the front corner that kept the two vending machines company. But at the back of the long room, almost invisible in the shadows of the lightless corner, was Morgan. Carefully folding his clothes, he didn’t seem to notice Everett’s quiet entrance. “I always figured you would eventually just buy a washer and dryer.” Everett said, throwing his suitcase up onto the rack next to Morgan. “Then I’d never leave the house. This is a social event for me.” The former knight said, paying excessive attention to his socks as he tired them around each other. “Besides, just because I wrote four top ten songs doesn’t mean I’m rich.” “Look, man, about Kentucky . . .” “Save it.” Morgan said gruffly. “I’m not interested.” “What’s going on?” Everett asked. “You’re not your usual cheery self.” “I don’t know, Ev.” Morgan said, whipping out two socks angrily. “I guess there’s just something about marching off to war against an enemy that’s dug-in, fortified, and heavily out-numbers us that I’m just not too terribly fond of.” “Morgan, I know you too well.” Everett said. “That’s not really it. What’s really bothering you?” “You.” The former knight said. Everett was taken back in surprise for a moment. He looked down at his suitcase for a moment, then looked back up at Morgan, ready to face the argument. “What did I do?” “It’s your ungratefulness.” Morgan said clearly. “Ungrateful? What have I been ungrateful over?” A loud buzz echoed through the Laundromat as a dryer came to a stop. “Nothing, Ev. Just forget it.” Morgan said, turning from his socks and heading over to the dryer. “No, man. I need to know what this is about.” Everett said following Morgan and stepping between him and the dryer. “What’s going on in your head?” “Everett, move.” Morgan said simply.
“No.” “What are you talking about, Morgan?” Everett demanded sentimentally. “I don’t get it. What’s going on?” “You, Everett.” Morgan said, finally looking at the knight with an anger-filled glare. “You and Sydney and Marilyn and, and being a knight and everything.” “I’m still not following, Morgan.” The knight tried. “You’re so unbelievably lucky and you don’t even know it.” Morgan fumed, backing away. “I’m not lucky, I’m . . .” Everett started. But with a sudden burst forward, Morgan rushed forward, shoving Everett in the chest. The force of the fast, but harmless push knocked the knight two rows of washing machines away, nearly knocking him off his feet. Everett caught himself just narrowly before falling. He stabilized himself, then slowly looked up at Morgan, staring at the dark civilian as he glared back at the knight. “I forgot how strong you are.” Everett conceded. “And how dangerous you are.” Almost unconsciously, the knight glanced over at his sword that rested on his suitcase. “I’m not as dangerous as some.” Morgan said, turning back to his clothes. “And at least I’m more than happy to lock myself away and never be heard from again.” “But that’s not fair.” Everett said. He chuckled a bit, smiling slightly. “That’s not fair, or right, or moral, or . . .” “Or shut up.” Morgan bit. “Don’t you get it? Those four guidelines are what got us into all of this in the first place?” “What do you mean?” Everett asked.
“Fair
and right and moral and just? They’re too easily confused and argued in
any direction. That’s why the knights should never organize.” Morgan
argued. “Jericho’s the reason we’re going after the Brotherhood. And
he’s a knight. He’s one of you. And you know what? He’s being a
perfect knight. Simply not in your eyes, perhaps, but if you apply
everything he’s doing to the Oath of Chivalry, it could work.”
“With
the right spin, maybe.” Everett agreed grudgingly. “Exactly, Ev.” Morgan said. “How can you define moral? How can you define justice? How can you define fair? Moral is determined by beliefs. Two religions throw that out of alignment real quick. Justice is determined by laws. Two nations, hell two states, and you have two justices. Fair? On any given time-line, all things equal out eventually. Is interfering fair? And let’s not forget the last concept that the knights are slaves to. Right. How do you define right?” Morgan left the comment hanging in the air. “Knights just usually go by some ambiguous ‘gut feeling’.” He finally said. “The point is, these four concepts are so conflicting, so out of whack, that they can never coincide.” The former knight went on. “And that’s why the knights are so damn counter-productive and ineffective. Because they are so easily swayed by these concepts which are so damn subjective.” “Throw all of that away, Morgan.” Everett answered. “Beyond it all is Might for Right. That is the first and foremost goal of knights, of the Oath of Chivalry. Might for Right.” “Might for right my ass.” Morgan waved away. “You’re talking about vigilantism and you know it. You might put on the façade of belonging to some grand tradition, but at the end of the day, you’re just a vigilante, no different from any masked comic book character.” “The law’s what’s different.” Everett argued. “We’re not illegal. Vigilantes are.” “Would you listen to yourself?” Morgan nearly yelled. “Legal. Bah. You talk about changing the world, and then you talk about not breaking the law.” “Yeah. And?” Everett challenged. “Laws are made to protect the status quo.” Morgan yelled. “Laws are about stasis and about maintenance and about, about keeping things the way they are. So if you want to change the world you HAVE to be prepared to break the law.”
“Break
the law?” Everett lorded over. “What the hell are you talking about?
There’s breaking the law, yeah, but then there’s, there’s wrong.
Legal and moral are two very different things.”
“To
change the world, you have to be willing to sacrifice everything you
believe in!” Morgan yelled.
Silence.
Everett
stepped back and slowly breathed in deeply, his body moving back away from
the cornered Morgan. “I think I get it now.” He said, narrow eyes on
Morgan. “That’s what Sydney was trying to tell me, all while you were
away.”
“Tell
you what?” Morgan glowered.
“That
you never could find a balance, could you?” Everett said. “You
didn’t know where things crossed the line. And so, rather than . . .”
“Rather
than what?” Morgan bit, staring a hole through Everett.
“Rather
than confront it,” Everett said, his voice soft. “You abandoned it.
You forced yourself into captivity. You forced yourself in docility and
into a world where you couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t change the
world without compromising what you believed in. You forced yourself to
think that you had no affect on the world.”
Morgan
was quiet for a moment. He looked away from Everett, his eyes closed as he
breathed roughly. “If,” He started with a weak voice. “If I had
continued on, I would have become Jericho.” Morgan said clearly,
shrugging as his eyes turned into silver tears. “I would have become the
perfect knight.”
“And
the perfect knight . . .” Everett started.
“Is
a tyrant.” Morgan finished, the first tear spilling out over his face.
Everett
lowered his head, his hands on the rumbling washing machine for support.
“I guess I understand a little bit better now.” Everett nodded. He
stood up, his head held over Morgan’s. “I’m going to leave now.”
He whispered in a breathless prayer.
“Escape
while you can, Ev.” Morgan half joked, no smile on his face. Everett
picked up his suitcase and his sword and slowly backed away from Morgan.
The former knight watched him leave, never saying a word.
Everett stepped up out of the subway terminal, his head buried in
his thoughts. The tile floors turned into the pavement of the city
sidewalks as he pushed along. Inside his head, Morgan’s words echoed
inside of him.
A
short distance and Everett came out to the restaurant where the knights
were gathering. No familiar cars were out front, because they were all
heading to the airport from here. Through the glass doors, Everett made
his way towards the far right back. And there, he smiled.
Morgan
looked up from the table, turning to Everett. He didn’t say a word or
even smile; he just simply held up his right hand, his two fingers held
straight up between his eyes as if the blade of a sword. |