Knights Apocalyptica

The kidnapper's grip on Erec's collar tensed. Boldwick stared them down; even though his expression hid behind that helmet, it was impossible not to feel the oppressive air. Boldwick's green cloak swayed ever so slightly in response to a slight draft wind.

“I’d suggest you release my initiate; then we can discuss things in a more calm manner. Otherwise, you’ve chosen to make an enemy out of me. I can assure you I’m not an enemy you wish to have.” Boldwick said.

How many monsters had fallen to the beast of a Master Knight? It was easy to guess the number in the thousands, but the calm tone of Boldwick’s presence, underscored with certain killing intent, made Erec wonder. Had he slain another human before?

“Ways I see it, from what I know ‘bout your lil stuffed up walls, is you steel cans are worth quite a bit. Now, I was nice and polite. Saw this one get all hurt in your fight’n, and nabbed him. Now, don’t I deserve some sorta reward?”

Boldwick remained silent for a moment; Erec felt a bead of sweat on his brow. He searched the Master Knight for some kind of signal; did he want him to do something? Maybe he was waiting for Erec to make an opening? The cold feel of the steel on the side of his head was intimidating, but what he acted quick enough, got by fast enough to—but the drugs still ran through him—could he move quickly enough?

“What is it you want?” Boldwick asked, with an uncharacteristic hesitant tone.

“How ‘bout that suit you’re wearing, the one your buddy is in too, twenty gallons of water, and a certain shiny toy I got in mind.”

“You couldn’t even operate our Armor.” Boldwick shook his head. “I can spare some water, but we’re under a tense situation. I can’t freely give away supplies when I’m unsure how long it’ll take for support to arrive. I can provide some weaponry, but I have little idea what ‘shiny toy’ you might have in mind.”

“Awww, how damn sad. Do I look like I care?” The man barked out a harsh laugh, and his eyes narrowed as he leaned over Erec’s shoulder. “Maybe I just pull the trigger. Or might be I take this one with me and sell him off to a higher bidder out there. Y’all got this dumb notion in your heads that you’re the only ones—“

“You wouldn’t dare.” Boldwick’s voice grew dark, the tip of his sword raised. How fast would the Master Knight be able to close the distance? Fast enough to beat a trigger pull?

"Your lot aint know me, don't know what I may dare, don't draw fuck'n conclusions. I do what I wish. Ways I see, I got you bent over a barrel, this one's life doesn't matter to me any, but what you got does… Now that I think about it, might be the most important thing to me after all is that toy in my head. See, I can't quite get it outta my head. Saw it a long time ago, following it since. Mine, by all rights, I reckon. But… See, here's the problem, y'all rudely went and stole it. Hows about you y'all hand me back my metal man. Think y'all might'a seen it." Erec's captor tilted his head and smiled. "Mhmm, mhmm, something tells me so. So how about this, hand it over, hand over seven gallons of water and a month worth of rations for two—and we've got us a deal."

“For that, you’re willing to return my initiate and his Armor?”

“Naw, Armor is mine. War trophy. He aint deserve it if he’s gone and lost it.”

Boldwick again went quiet as one of those stone statues of heroes decorated the great hall. The last knight shifted nervously; the gun pointed at Erec’s head remained smooth and unmoving. Even with such a situation, his kidnapper didn’t bat an eye or miss a beat; he kept an unfathomably cool head, almost as if this whole thing were a game.

But how did he know about the android? Let alone that they’d recovered it? Had he been watching their movements, and why would he be tracking the thing?

[The Vallum model has been stashed away safely; it wouldn’t do to lose my host. However, perhaps it was an error to take action with such haste…]

That’s not good. If VAL was questioning its choices—what had it seen that Erec hadn’t?

“I need a day.” Boldwick finally replied, squaring his shoulders and looking straight toward the stranger. “If you give me a day, I can have your supplies.”

[As I feared.]

The man with the two-headed snake tattoo tilted his head back and forth, considering the option and mulling it over, as he hummed next to Erec. As if they were casually making a deal, one without a life hanging in the balance. Finally, he gave an exasperated sigh.

“Think I was born yesterday?”

Boldwick kept silent.

“Y’all want to set up a trap after you firm up your defenses.” He tapped the gun against Erec’s head. “Naughty, naughty.”

“It will take time to acquire all of the resources you’ve demanded.” Boldwick reasserted.

“Bullshit.”

The atmosphere plummeted. Erec felt the winds shift as the grip around his collar tightened further. Boldwick noticed it too—sliding smoothly into a fighting stance. Was this it? Would he pull the trigger at any second and turn the gun on Boldwick? Erec couldn’t imagine this guy standing any chance, but that didn’t matter if he’d died.

Erec’s fingers shook as his breath quickened.

[Removing sedatives. Situation escalating]

It was going to happen. Life or death, VAL just prepared for the worst and gave its signal to get him ready to let loose. It prepared his single possible path to live.

“Get me the metal man now, and I’ll give you the kid.” Erec’s captor growled. “Last chance, last deal.”

“Deal,” Boldwick responded, with nothing but contempt in his voice; he turned to go down the tunnel.

"Not you, that one.” He nodded his head toward the remaining guard. Boldwick gave him a single look, not needing a word. The Knight gave a fist salute before speeding off down the sewer.

There was a long moment of silence as the high tension remained. Erec’s anger swelled as he fought to keep it reigned in, wanting to let loose.

“Who are you?” Boldwick asked coldly.

“Aw, lil old me? Mhmm, name’s Seven-Snakes. Pleasure to meet’ya…” he nodded toward Boldwick.

“Sir Boldwick.”

“Y’all call yourselves Sirs? Bit too close to what the Vega whores call folks, don’tcha think? Then again, y’all are kinda like whores to that two-bit bitch Goddess—“ His hand moved as he mocked Boldwick, the gun moving just away, a wholly unconscious gesture.

A gap.

Boldwick’s sword snapped through the air—a flame streak closing the distance instantly.

The dumbass had no idea how strong a Master Knight was.

Erec’s mind went blank as Seven-Snakes whipped away from him, shoving him into the blow. There wasn’t time; Erec took the hit with his arms raised, desperately pulling at that anger and letting the inferno surge.

The flames hit him, yet didn’t burn.

It’d been a feint.

Boldwick flashed by—sword slicing through the air as it was coated in fire, Seven-Snakes fired his gun as the concussive force rocked through the tunnel accompanied by an goddess-awful bang—once more filling Erec’s ears with that horrible ringing.

It hit Boldwick in the chest, sending him flying back; his sword spun away from him as the Armor took a dent in the chest. With dawning horror, Erec realized that the Master Knight had miscalculated the gun. There wasn’t a way that it’d be enough to stop him but…

No choice. Do or die.

Hell spewed forth as the inferno burned away the traces of the drugs in Erec’s veins. That feeling of helplessness and resentment of being taken as a hostage, of being used, burdening the people he’d cared about as they fought for life or death.

Kill

Erec spun on the spot. Seven-Snakes’ eyes stretched wide, and a wild grin appeared on his face. The gun barrel pointed right at him—a second from ending Erec's life.

He snapped a kick into the bastard’s wrist—the gun went wild as another piercing bang dominated the room.

The metal around Erec’s wrists snapped as he let the fire burn. Let it all go up, less an inferno, more a snapping explosive force. Erec sprang forward as Seven-Snakes tried to back peddle and take aim.

His hand caught one of the bastard’s wrists.

Unfortunately, not the one with the gun.

The gun banged—Erec’s shoulder jerked back as the limb lost feeling, unresponsive. But the pain wasn’t there.

All that he could feel was already burning. Let hell consume everything from him; let the oblivion of anger dominate this glorious battle.

Pain didn’t matter. Strength did.

Through the rage, Erec’s finger dug in deeper, feeling the bones of his enemies’ wrist snap. Seven-Snakes let out a howl, the gun trying to focus on Erec’s head.

No.

Erec jerked the man towards himself, slamming his skull against his enemies'; the gun went off again. This time his body didn’t jerk. No loss in mobility.

Good, more time.

Erec slammed his head against Seven-Snakes once more, blood running down his face as Seven-Snakes’ legs wobbled, pulling them both to the ground. Taking advantage, Erec fell on top.

More explosive force inside as hell combusted. The gun went flying as Erec slapped it away—not hesitating, the same arm rose and curled into a fist, slamming right towards the pinned Seven Snake beneath, right toward the fucker’s skull.

Seven-Snakes melted into the ground.

Erec’s fist smashed into the concrete—a crater as the path of sewer tunnel where the bastard was, shattered like those stone giants. His fist refused to unclench as it shook—blood running down his wrist.

There wasn’t anywhere to look but the patch of ground the bastard had been.

His fire burned out, violent and faster than ever before.

It left behind nothing but blood. Blood poured from his fist, from his shoulder, down his brow. Crimson spilled across the ground and painted it a glorious color.

Erec collapsed.

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