Gianfranco Mancini’s Reviews > Knight Force > Status Update

“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.