Status Updates From Knight Force

“Fucking-A man. I've had just about enough of this bullshit. Carrion, crazy-ass monks, that Ash Face thing, Demons, possessed tanks, Zombies, fucking devil dogs...”

“All part of the job, Ed”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I was a Knight, found the Holy Grail, been alive ever since, all that crazy shit you saw me pulling off – that was all me. I think I'm supposed to hunt Demons – that's the price of keeping these handsome looks.”

“Fair enough.”

Dana pushes in between us. “We don't have time for this bullshit. Move up! Circle-formation, cover your angles. Go! Go!”

Nobody moves an inch. Not even a nod to confirm they heard her. I meet the CP's eyes and remind her, “I'm giving directions. You’re just the one holding the damn map.” Throwing a glance backwards I say, “Badasses!”

“Hoorah!”

The smoking rounds blacken the gap between us – a space I know I must close as the strength required to hold the barrier has me dropping to a knee. “Icarus, activate voice commands and prepare to jump,” I say, as four heavy mortar shells shriek overhead and explode behind me in a series of earth-shaking detonations. “Icarus fully charged, awaiting commands.” “To the skies!”

He stood and hobbled into the now open portal to Hell, daring me – no demanding me to follow him. My life was over he said, naught left but him and his quest. The other Knights attempted to follow him a while later. I killed them. Twice. Once as a man, the second time as what we now call a Zombie. Went in myself. Not for want of mythical relic – only to kill him, and carve Vienna's name in his bastard chest.

“Open fire!” Orders Williams. Volley after volley of precise single-shot fire from the grunts’ rifles does little to slow the advancing horde. There are far more than what I saw in the Praetorian wing. Soon half the roof is packed with Zombies. Legionaries are dragged down and eaten, their dying screams quickly and horribly overlaid by the guttural groans of those feasting.

Panicked, the entertainers around the tables sprint for the exits. “Open fire!” Shouts the Decanus. For half a second I expect another wave of rounds, and prepare myself to move position again. “No witnesses!” I'm both enraged and horrified hearing the screams of the innocent and unarmed citizens. “And I was thinking of letting you guys live...”

The screen clears. A decapitated camera operator, blood still streaming from his neck, lies in front of Antonio's desk. Antonio himself has had every limb removed and his stomach torn open. Dripping intestines hang over the desk. A microphone has been shoved into his open mouth, probably breaking teeth on the way through – guess that explains the screams.

“Sir Jacobi Kayven,” calls Vienna. “Son of Jacob. Hero of the war in France. According to song, you single handily charged a trio of trebuchets that were killing your peers. You spared a nobleman who in turn paid the bounty for the wretched vengeance you sought against men of the church.”

It's common knowledge that most of my home country was flattened during the war. London survived with the aid of an unknown technology – but even that mysterious device, made years ago but unthinkable now, only kept the bombs from about a third of the city. The majority rebuilt, The Monarchy saw fit to rename the city New London, in honour of the fallen and to signal a new chapter in our history.

I nod slowly to myself. Another chance to live my life. Another war to fight for a god I don't believe in against men who believe in another god I don't believe in. If bloodshed can see my name spoken with honour again then I will see the desert birth lakes of red in my wake.

Quicker than even he can react, I place a palm on the dull but searing hot edge and turn his attack against him. In an exquisite shower of gore, I force the blade in a circular motion through his groin and out the top of his skull. As his bisected frame falls apart, spilling steaming innards on the roof I catch the hilt and spin to face Manny's car.

Mason Rodriguez, the sole surviving Custodian, decides to flick the self-destruct switch in his vehicle. He opens the driver's door and rolls out onto the road. His car speeds ahead with several of the Japanese vehicles in chase. Three seconds later the detonation destroys all of them, flaming steel and bodies thrown miles high.

Time to carve a name for myself... Front hooves in the air as I pull hard to stop him, Magnu snorts deeply, giving away my plan. Ledric casually glances over his shoulder as he continues onwards. “Charging spears is not a wise idea, Jacobi!” “But heavy purse from Amant's head will bring glorious wedding.” To hell with my helmet. I want them to see the face of the man who ends them.

All these mooks from tonight screaming bloody murder. I'm not sorry. It's my job.... it's my fucking job. “Is there a fault? I can run a systems check?” “Re-fucking-set it right now!” I swore an oath to protect the needy, the weak. Above all protect the broads. I'm the good guy. The White Knight.

“Pretty fast is not as fast as me but I look forward to the challenge. Next time you shut me down like that I am going to drive us both of a cliff – I can back up my files, you cannot.” That's us made up again now, with a metallic whirr the windowed boot opens.

“Oh I see how it is!” I kick her steering wheel. I'm raised to sitting position. Doesn't last long, she forces my chest down to my thighs. Struggling for breath, spine being crushed. “You're jealous! You’re my car! Why are you jealous?” The seat raises a few degrees, “You'll always be my number-one car. I promise.”

Loving the Judge Dredd/trashy 80s direct-to-video vibes, sadly lacking of commas before names in sentences is makin' my eyes bleed.
Oh well, I got it for free on kindle years ago, so not complaining too much and enjoying the ride.

“Okay, okay, he's in the headquarters building, it's to the north, you...you can't get in without a security card.” “I don't suppose you would just happen to have one of those would you?” “No, I am just a grunt; I don't have access.” “Too bad, I would have let you live.” I stab him quickly in the chest, holding a hand over his mouth, splitting fingers around his cig, preventing a gargling scream.

I slide an energy-knife into its sheath on my left shoulder, before finally taking a Centurion’s most vital piece of equipment. The sunglasses we wear not only look stylish, they serve as a mobile uplink to Cybertec HQ. The black wrap-round shades display a wealth of combat information from showing enemy positions to monitoring ammo consumption.

High rise habitation blocks, vertigo-inducing silver spires that penetrate the horizon. The millions inside live in naive comfort, in stark contrast to the luckless souls who happen to live outside of the only two cities in the Americas.