Randall: The KnightMature

                I made his call, carried his message.  I don’t believe it though.  A bomb?  That doesn’t seem very knightly.  It’s too modern.  He’s bluffing.  Calling him on it, however, wasn’t a particularly good idea.  I suppose inducing the wrath of my captor—the man who tied me to a chair in his dark basement (also not very knightly)—isn’t the best thing to do in this situation.

                He enters the room again, wearing a helmet and what seemed to be chainmail.  He’s really playing the part, how cute.  “Do I get a cute outfit like yours too?  Will you make me dress up as a good knight and do battle?”  I give him my best smile.

                He backhands me with a metal gauntlet.  “Even your gloves are historically accurate.  You’re a real stickler.”

                He chuckles, a low hollow sound coming from behind his helmet.  “I enjoy the authenticity.  It puts fear in my victims.”

                “It isn’t working so well with me.”  He hits me again, this time harder.  Then punches me in the face.  I hear the cartilage in my nose crunch and blood pours into my mouth.  I spit it out and laugh.  “I’m sure you enjoy the fear, you enjoy lording your power.  But the thing is, you only have that power because your victims are weak, because they give it to you.  If I refuse to be terrified by you tying me to a chair and beating me like you’re too afraid to actually fight me, then your satisfaction is greatly decreased.”  I give him another smile.  Taking the fun out of other people’s activities seems to amuse me greatly.

                The Knight turns his back on me and I hear a sword being unsheathed.  I wonder if he’ll kill me with it.  So I ask him.  “No, this sword isn’t for you,” he puts the blade under my chin and pushes up ensuring I look him in the face.  “I plan on using this to kill your boss.  I sincerely hope he’s willing to fight me honorably.  Man to man, sword to sword.  It will be glorious to stick him and watch the life bleed out of him.  I’ll take care of you when he’s dead and gone.  And if I’m in the mood, I may kill the others in your little group.  It would make for good sport, and it would also make me feel as if I’ve really completed something.  I might even be able to quit killing forever.”

                “I hope it doesn’t take too long for them to find me after Mendrick kills you.”

                He savagely bashes me over the head with the pommel of the sword, sufficiently knocking the consciousness from me.

The End

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