Angie stood in the dark alleyway, the man in shining armor was lying nearby, bleeding profusely from a number of gunshot wounds. The mugger was long gone, probably dead by now, the sword had almost severed his shooting arm from his body. The sword that had done the cutting was lying next to its owner, the blade still covered in crimson.
“Damn, damn, damn,” the knight muttered through gritted teeth. “My pardon, my lady. These wounds hurt mightily. I have never been shot before. Well I have, actually, but the armor always stopped them. This is a first.”
“For me too,” Angie replied meekly. She knelt out of arm’s reach, looking over her fallen savior. She pulled her battered and cracked phone from her purse. “I should call an ambulance. You are bleeding out.”
“Oh, it is far too late for any service to my mortal form,” the knight said.
Angie scooted a little closer and put her hands on the glowing shiny armor. A simple crest of a golden dragon adorned its middle, his glaves and leggings were just as bright, even though they were splattered in blood.
“Don’t say that.” Angie replied kindly. She had done a little premed in college. She knew what a bullet could do. Four of them to the chest would do a lot of damage.
“I was foolish.”
“No.” Angie said.
“I was. I was.”
“Did you come from a costume party?” Angie said, still clutching her phone, the display dark and forlorn.
“Party? No, my lady,” the knight coughed, flecks of red on his lips. “I am a knight. A Knight of the Gladius Cross. Michael D’Angelus.”
“That is quite a name and it sounds like quite the club. You all dress up?” Angie said. Why was no one coming down the alley? Did no one hear the gun shots? Did no one hear the sword clatter to the concrete in the middle of midtown? This was New York, not Detroit for God’s sake.
“You mistake me, my lady. I am not a man of this realm. I am a savior of those that need to be saved. I am hope to the hopeless. I am a dream to those that that need to be dreamt.”
Angie chuckled. “I am a schoolteacher, Mr. D’Angelus. Your grammar is atrocious.”
The knight smiled from beneath his helm. His face was lined, but he was not as old as he may have seemed.
“I am a knight, good lady, and grammar is the last of my worries at this present time.”
“I should go get help.” Angie said again.
“No. My armor is impervious. This was meant to be.”
Angie’s stomach fell a few inches watching his breathing change under the holed plate across his chest.
“What do you mean?”
“I have saved many ladies across many realms. I have sired children, I have raised many of them. I have had many wives, watching each grow old and pass in their own time. Each time I save a lady, it is my duty to betroth myself to her if she so chooses. Until the day that I fail. That was today, it seems,” Michael the knight said. “Sorry about that.”
“No, no, you have lost a lot of blood. You are becoming delirious.” Angie tried to explain.
“I gathered this blessing when a man died in front of me. It is my chance to share the right.” The knight said to the air more than Angie.
He reached for his sword blindly, grabbing the hilt, the blade glowing ever so softly in the dark of the alley. The knight handed it slowly to Angie.
“No, I can’t take your sword.” Angie said.
“Just hold it for a moment, if you please.” The knight groaned.
“Uh.” Angie took it gingerly, feeling its weight in her hand. It was heavy. And the blood was gone. The blade was brighter than it had looked a moment ago. “Michael…”
She looked down from the blade and the knight was gone. Everything was gone. The blood, the armor, the soft smile and grimacing eyes, all of it was gone.
It was just Angie. Kneeling in the middle of the alley, a glowing sword in her hands.
She stood slowly and felt a shift of weight and movement under her clothes, like a second skin was in motion over her own. She pulled her sensible cardigan up slowly, her fingers brushed something foreign. It was hard.
Her belly was not her belly. It was shining silver armor. She pulled her cardigan up to her bra, and her bra slid right up as well, the armor went all the way to her neck. The breasts she was expecting were covered in armor as well.
“Son of a bitch,” Angie muttered.
The sword flashed once and she was in the middle of a wide green field with a massive and imposing shining gold and glass castle standing off in the distance, as if beckoning her to come to it. Angie stumbled sideways slightly adjusting to the bright sunlight.
“SON OF A BITCH!” Angie muttered a little more loudly once her eyes adjusted.