Fantasizing a war - A Sanders Sides Trilogy

The Dark Knight

 WARNING!!!!!!!! THIS CHAPTER IS SAD, ANGSTY AND INVOLVES A LOT OF BLOOD ALONG WITH FIGHTING!!!! I AM WARNING YOU NOW!!! AND I APOLOGISE!!!!

Logan picked up the grey cardigan. Dear Newton, it smelt nice. He smiled to himself as he picked up the scent of cookies that had managed to cling to Patton since they left Cabina City. Slinging the cardigan over his forearm, Logan turned to pursue the others but froze.

Ahead of him, clad in black, misty armour, was a tall man. Maybe. A humanoid for sure. It's' lanky frame was built with heavy muscle and a reflective visor was pulled over it's' face. The figure would look like Joan if Joan was muscular, tall and dressed in smoky black armour.

"A-Are you a guard?" Logan asked, hoping whatever it was didn't hear the fear in his voice.

It said nothing. Didn't move, didn't react or even breathe.

"A knight, then? Your prince, Virgil, informed me about that. He has allowed me to be here." Logan tried hopefully, taking a step back.

It said nothing; just nodded. It just took a step forwards, keeping Logan in the same distance as they had been only a moment earlier. It drew it's' sword.

Logan swallowed and nodded. He looked around for a weapon when there was suddenly a loud clatter at his feet. The knight had thrown his sword at the advisor and stood there passively. Nervously, Logan picked it up.

The knight pulled out another sword, slimmer and more agile than the one he had just given Logan.

"A fair fight?" Logan asked. He received a nod, and the advisor swallowed. "Better than our knights, I suppose."

Lunging at him, the knight had crossed the distance between them in a blink and Logan barely had time to parry. Jumping back, away from the knight, Logan held his sword out in front of him. The knight had managed to scratch his cheek - it was probably bleeding.

His opponent swept at him again, taking the offensive role, as Logan blocked and stabbed. He hit the knight's' armour and the sword bounced off harmlessly.

Ditching the sword, the knight lunged at Logan, who went down with a scream. The knight punched his jaw and dug it's' knee into Logan's' ribs. The advisor kicked and thrashed, pushing his enemy off him and slapped the armoured arm with his sword. The two lunged at each other at the same time and the knight grabbed Logan's' necktie and pulled it harshly. Logan choked, falling forwards, and was caught by an uppercut that broke his nose.

The knight jumped to it's' feet and grabbed it's' discarded sword, swinging it down like an executioner, going for the neck. Logan rolled away just in time, snatching up his own sword that had been dropped sometime during the fight. This was no spur with Roman in a pretty meadow anymore - this was life or death, and he knew the latter was more likely. Still on the ground and lying on his back, the advisor parried another attack and kicked swiftly, knocking his opponent off it's' feet while jumping to his own.

With his enemy on the ground, Logan stabbed his sword through a gap in the armour plates on the knight's' shoulder. The knight fell back with a sharp yell. Logan swallowed down his pity and pulled out his sword, only to be nearly cut in half by the knight's' sword. It hit his waist and buried itself in hard before the knight yanked it out. Logan screamed in pain.

Desperately, Logan lashed out again and cut off the knight's' arm. Wait, what?  The knight stumbled, grabbing at the bloody stub where an arm used to be. The mentioned arm now lay on the ground, severed and coated in spluttering blood.

Despite this major disadvantage, the knight was relentless, possibly more aggressive. The two parried and lunged further down the corridor and that's when Logan realised he had lost Patton's' cardigan.

He stopped fighting for a split second in surprise, then got kicked in the face and skidded across the ground, back smacking against a wall. Staggering to his feet, Logan snatched up his sword and the knight stabbed his wound and nicked his arm, probably cutting something important. Like a muscle.

Logan felt the cold sweat on the back of his neck as he gripped his sword tightly, the pain in his side burning like fire. Panting, he raised the red-coated sword above his head, swinging it down to here the clash of metal against metal - damn, he was hurt.

Black, fuzzy spots appeared in his visions regularly. Were they black? They looked kinda white. Or yellow. Or red. Or purple. Or green. Or blue. Or something.

Stumbling backwards, the advisor blocked his opponents' strike that could've killed him, trying to grip his wound closed. He screamed in agony again as the enemy's' sword slashed at his abdomen, finding it's' mark. Logan fell to the ground, feeling a metallic, warm liquid in his mouth. He had bitten his tongue.

The fuzzy spots were growing, clouding his sight as the pain spread throughout his system.

Logan lost his vision to the black spots.

Logan felt his hand move numbly to his abdomen and the sword fall from his grasp.

Logan's' head lolled back as a tiny breath left his lips.

"I n-need to go-" He spluttered into the black void, "-go give P-Patton 'is c-c-cardi-cardigan... I n-need to t-tell V-Virgil th-that-!" And then he saw nothing. 

Then he was nothing.