Per 
Level 5 Access Required
Item# SCPXXXX
Item Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCPXXXX is located in a bulletproof glass case in 05-1’s office at site (redacted). In the event of a security breach, SCPXXXX will be retracted into a safe and stored beneath the facility. This procedure may also take place should 05-1 perceive a threat to SCPXXXX.
Description: SCPXXXX is an onyx drinking chalice 25 centimeters tall, with a diameter of 10 centimeters at the brim and 6.5 centimeters at the base. The anomaly’s design can be dated from 0-90 AD. The anomaly is filled with fresh water which cannot be poured out of the chalice. In addition, drinking from SCPXXXX will not reduce the amount of water it contains. Humans who drink water from the chalice will cease to age, have advanced rates of cellular regeneration, and are immune to most illnesses. Those who drink from SCPXXXX are functionally immortal unless there are no longer any cells to regenerate from, such as a case of total disintegration. The rate at which cells regenerate depends on the amount of damage inflicted on the subject.
Interview Log
Interviewer: Dr. Lewis Carter
Subject: Overseer 05-1, Thomas M. Galahad
[Begin Log]
05-1: Dr. Carter, let me make this very clear, what you hear today, you tell no one.
Dr. Carter: Understood, Sir. If I may, if this matter is so sensitive to the 05 council, why involve me at all?
05-1: That is classified.
Dr. Carter: Alright, lets begin, shall we? Let’s start with how you learned about the grail.
05-1: I’m sure you’re aware of the legend of King Arthur. The Sword in the Stone?
Dr. Carter: You mean like the Disney movie?
05-1: Dr. Carter you can’t be serious
Dr. Carter: Sorry sir, I’m a little bit nervous.
05-1: The stories say he was a great hero, a fair king, a brave knight, and a loyal Christian.
Dr. Carter: Where is this headed?
05-1: Everything you know about him is wrong. The “Good King Arthur” was thought up by some brain-dead peasants, centuries after his death. King Arthur and the Knights of the Round table were very real, as a matter of fact my father was one of those knights. Everyone that knew him complimented his bravery. He was never around, so I didn’t know him personally, but I admired him all the same. Which is why, when given the chance join the Knights, I chose to accept. I really believed what they told me, That the Knights were do-gooders, protectors of the innocent and that they stood opposed to all the evil in the world.
Dr. Carter: I’m guessing that wasn’t the case?
05-1: King Arthur was a tyrant. He and the Knights would murder entire villages, taking everything they had, raping the women, enslaving the children, he would blame some made-up dark king or giant, and send out a few knights to clean up any witnesses. The returning knights would then return claiming they had slain the perpetrator. Arthur had a powerful artifact as his disposal, Excalibur. I have been hunting for that sword my entire life, but I haven’t found where he hid it.
Dr. Carter: Where does SCPXXXX enter the picture?
O5-1: King Arthur was dying when I joined the Knights. He had contracted a mysterious illness, he called it the Blight-Curse. Somehow, he learned about the Holy Grail, what it did and where to find it.
Dr. Carter: Where was it?
05-1: Philadelphia
Dr. Carter: Excuse me?
05-1: Philadelphia in Turkey, nowadays it’s called Alaşehir. As a reward for their exceeding faith, the Grail was given to the church in Philadelphia.
Dr. Carter: How did you retrieve it?
05-1: Arthur and his knights slaughtered everyone that got between him and the Grail. This included the entire Christian population of Philadelphia. I was there. It was then when I witnessed the Knights as they truly were.
Dr. Carter: Then you found the Grail, right?
05-1: Arthur commanded his knights to hunt for the Grail. As they did so I formulated a plan. If the stories about the Grail were true, then King Arthur and his Knights could continue their bloody tyranny forever. I could not abide this, so when I found the Holy Grail, I swapped it for a communion chalice. I poisoned wine and placed it in within the fake Grail, I then presented it to the King and to his Knights. Some drank all the poison; others merely sipped it and grew weak from it. The next morning Excalibur was gone, but King Arthur lay dead on the ground. Many of the knights succumbed, but some remained dying, not yet dead. I granted them the mercy of a quick death.
Dr. Carter: You killed… all of them?
05-1: I gave an oath when I joined the Knights that I would always protect all mankind. That oath was a lie; I will only protect those who do not wish to harm another. In order to keep the Grail safe now that its people were dead, I drank from it and kept it with me. I witnessed centuries go by, new kings rose and fell, new lands were discovered, new organizations formed. From my experiences I learned this: no man is truly good, no kingdom is without its flaws, and try as they might, no organization can protect anyone without getting its hands dirty.
Dr. Carter: That’s incredibly nihilistic.
05-1: The truth often is. Look, I don’t want to debate this with you, would you mind moving on?
Dr. Carter: Yes, of course. Why did you bring SCPXXXX to the Foundation?
05-1: I didn’t, I brought it to the Brotherhood for the Protection, Security, and Containment of the Super-Natural. They were the first organization I found that didn’t burn witches and pagan texts. More importantly, it focused on containing the unnatural things on the Earth, which I most certainly was. Ironically, I found them in Philadelphia.
Dr. Carter: In Turkey?
05-1: In America. It was far enough away from the prying eyes of European kings and churches that it was able to function on its own.
Dr. Carter: The foundation as we know it was formed in 1875, what did you do before that?
05-1: Initially, they locked me up and took the Grail. It took decades to earn their trust, I was a reusable test subject, a rare commodity. I spent years performing their requests to perfection. When the Brotherhood was reorganized in 1779, I was allowed my freedom. In 1834, I was made a captain in the newly formed Militia for the Defense against the Anomalous, the militaristic faction of the Association for the Detection and Containment of Super-Natural Occurrences. When they got disbanded during the American Civil War, my group wound up becoming the SCP Foundation in 1875, when we got control over the Factory.
Dr. Carter: I’ve heard about the Factory, what was it?
05-1: None of your concern. Anyways, after the Foundation was nearly wiped out in 1911, I was put in charge of rebuilding it. I got 04 clearance in 1963 and became a member of the 05 council in 1984. It wasn’t until 2003 that I was able to return the Grail to my custody. Last week, I received a call from…
Dr. Carter: Who?
05-1: I’m not allowed to say. All I can tell you is they asked for me to get an interview from you. That’s it, interview is over. I expect the revised article on my desk by next Thursday.
[End Log]
Chapter One
The Lady of the Lake
On a cloudy day in the month of August, 1864, an unusually large vessel sat in the dead center of Nimue Lake in Wells. Nimue was not a lake the people of Great Britain often talked about, and with good reason. It was cursed, although no one really knew the true nature of the dark energy surrounding the lake. The old man at the pub said that it was the site of an ancient pagan ritual, his friend corrected him and said it was where the cult committed suicide when it had been ousted from the nearby villages. On the way there a vagrant claimed that the lake was so warm because its depth was enough to reach the fires of hell. That wasn’t why they were there, though.
Five man were aboard, one was beneath. There was a tension in the air as they took turns on the bellows, every change meant their friend was down there for another fifteen minutes. Pressure was meticulously monitored, with so much as a tiny shift spelling doom for the diver. As ropes and tubes were pulled into spools, the diver rose slowly to the surface. Finally, he breached and was pulled on board. As the diver removed his helmet, the men stood around him, anxiously awaiting what he had seen.
“I didn’t reach the bottom,” the diver said, fearful of the repercussions. His captain looked him up and down.
“Why not?” He asked. It was impossible to detect any sign of malice or compassion in his voice.
“I got… scared, sir. It’s so dark.”
“Very well. You may remove the suit, Johnson. We’ll be needing it shortly.”
The other men on board each began to study their shoes. Were they next to attempt the dive?
“I’ll do it myself,” the captain muttered. Try as they might, the others couldn’t hold back their sighs of relief.
The captain donned the brass helmet and waterproof suit and stepped off the boat, the long lengths of tubes and ropes began to unspool as he descended. The water was clear, no signs of wildlife, plant or animal. Beneath him was the endless abyss, above him the rapidly fading light. One hour in, the captain felt his first bout of claustrophobia, briefly, he considered signaling to his men on the surface that he was to be pulled up. Before he could do so, however, his mind turned once again to his goal. This was the fruit of a lifelong search; no amount of fear could stand in his way.
Sinking further, his mind began to drift, the men who gave him the diving equipment told him that if he should ever start to fall asleep, he should signal the surface immediately. However, the stubborn captain refused to surrender, and thus began to slip off into the realm of dreams. He was in his childhood home, listening to his mother sing.
“Son of man, when dark the day,
Remember then, to kneel and pray
For even as the evils come
The righteous man beholdeth none”
Suddenly, the captain awoke to the feeling of something beneath his feet. The crushing black surrounded him, in all directions was nothing. All directions, that is, except one. Behind the captain was a glow so faint, the captain was sure he had imagined it. His eyes did not deceive him, there was something there. He trudged across the bottom, his feet sinking into a thin layer of mud. The closer he got, the brighter the light.
The source was the naked blade of an ancient arming sword, inscribed into the metal were indecipherable runes that pulsated for every step the captain took towards it. A high -pitched ringing entered the hollow helmet and echoed in his ears. Holding the blade was the corpse of a young woman, mummified by the pressures of the deep. Her empty sockets gazed upward as if longing to escape the emptiness. “The Lady of the Lake,” the captain whispered. Slowly, he grasped the sword, staring into its luminance. He gave the blade a tug and suddenly he was no longer in the depths of the lake.
Turning around wildly, the captain tried to get his bearings. He was in a stone cathedral, rows of pews on either side, each full of dead bodies, floating as if still beneath the waves. Instead of a pulpit sat an empty golden throne.
“Thomas, what strange armor you have.” The voice came from everywhere, and yet nowhere.
As the captain tried to pinpoint the source, a figure stepped out from behind the throne. Its skin was grey, like the armor it wore. On its head was a crown, full of jewels. He was once a king. But his eyes… His pupils were red and dilated, and blood leaked out the corners. Blood also ran from the king’s mouth into his beard. In one hand he bore a golden chalice, in the other a rusted dagger.
“Why are you here?” Thomas asked. “You’re dead.”
“I’m here because you are. You found it, Excalibur. It took you a while, but you did it. What is next for you, Thomas? Will you become king?”
“I don’t care much for kings. More often than not, they turn out to be tyrants.”
“Then why else would you want it? Excalibur gives you nothing more than what you most desire. All you have to do…. Is ask.”
The cathedral vanished in an instant, and Thomas was once again at the bottom of the lake. Heart beating, Thomas signaled the surface. Soon he felt a pull. As he began to rise, Thomas spotted the dim red outline of the king, it smiled at him.
“We’ll talk soon.”
During Thomas’s ascension, the sword’s pulsing slowly waned until the runes vanished into the blade. After almost three hours, light from the surface reached Thomas’s face. The pulling stopped.
Decompression thought Thomas. That’s what they’re doing.
At that moment the blade pulsed again, and Thomas was in a grassy clearing, floating as if in water. It was night, but no stars or clouds filled the sky. The glade was lit only by Excalibur, showing a single boulder surrounded by open graves. Thomas drifted forward, towards it and as he passed by the graves he looked in to see fully armored knights, blood dripping from their eyes and mouth. He continued to drift until his helmet bounced off the boulder. There was a gap in it, roughly the size of a sword blade. Once he realized what it was, fountains of blood poured out of the stone and filled the graves. Chanted words began to fill the back of Thomas’s head.
“To God and Country, I swear
To defend the innocent and the helpless
To stand beside my brothers in life and in death.”
When the chant finished, Gauntlets reached out of the bloody cisterns, grabbing at Thomas’s feet, twisting him around and pulling on him. Thomas kicked at the hands, but they wrapped around him and pushed him into the boulder. The king appeared again, chalice and dagger in hand. “They never broke their oath, Thomas.”
Closing his eyes, Thomas felt the hands release him, and he was once again in the lake, nearing the surface. One of the men on board, seeing their captain twisting around as if fighting for his life, commanded they pull him up faster. With a clatter, Thomas threw the sword onto the ship, pulling himself up after it.
“Don’t touch it!” He commanded his men, with a fury in his voice they had never heard before. Hastily, he stripped off the diving gear and scooped the sword off the deck. By the light of the sword, he could faintly see red lines over his squadron’s eyes and from their mouths.
“Sir, are you… alright?” It was their medic, Nathaniel Higgens. Thomas looked around, everyone on board looked concerned.
“I’m fine,” Thomas answered, “And I’ll be a lot better once we get to shore. Hop to it.” Looking overboard at his reflection, Thomas could see the king standing behind him. A quick glance proved no corporeal being was there, but Thomas had the feeling the king was in his presence. There was going to be no sleep tonight.
Chapter 2
The Round Table
It had been 3 weeks since Thomas retrieved Excalibur. Every night during those 3 weeks, Thomas had the same dream. He was on a hill overlooking a burning city, except everything was underwater. Each time he had the dream, the city’s destruction became more severe. The dreams only got worse once they boarded for New York. Now, on his 28th night of having this dream, the city was little more than a pile of rocks.
With each successive night full of terrors, Thomas was becoming more and more paranoid, and his men noticed. Whenever their captain wasn’t there, the others discussed his condition in hushed tones.
“That sword’s done something to him. I’ve seen things like this before, he took it and now he’s under its spell. Must be why he always looks so on edge and never lets anyone touch it,” said Barlow.
“They’ve got a new-fangled name for that at HQ, cognito-buzzard or something,” said Higgens as he carved a stick with his knife.
“You think he’ll be alright?” Sterling asked.
“I sometimes forget you’re new, Carl. Captain Malory has been with the Association longer than any of us. Rumor has it he was even part of the ol’ Brethren back in the day,” Barlow said, reaching for his drinking glass.
“How is that possible? The Brotherhood ended over 50 years ago!”
“You did your research, kid. But here’s the thing: Malory can’t die. Don’t rightly now how or why, but it would take God himself smiting the earth to kill ‘im.”
“Wait, then how old is he?” Sterling asked, confused. He heard weird rumors before, but this may be true. Sterling was a careful man, and before signing up to the service he did vigorous research into Malory and his crew. Malory didn’t have a birthday listed, but Sterling had chalked it up to a simple oversight.
“Consider that’s he’s been searching for that sword his whole life. I get the feeling that this isn’t the first time he’s seen it, just the first time he’s held it.” Barlow picked his teeth.
“None of this bothers you?” Sterling asked, bewildered.
“Look, kid. You ain’t seen nothing yet. As far as weird things go? Malory is pretty tame. My advice is just live with it.”
“You were talking about me?” Captain Thomas Malory entered the room, a lumpy bag on his back. It clearly contained the sword.
“Sir, Sterling just asked when your birthday was, that’s all. Says he’ll bake you a cake and everything,”
“December 10th,” Malory said. “Don’t bother with the cake.” And just as soon as he entered, he had left. His shifty eyes searched all corners of the corridor.
“He’s not okay,” said Sterling.
“Not much we can do about it here,” Higgens spoke up. “Best leave him be until we get back to the States.”
“How soon?” Sterling asked. He didn’t like the idea of being trapped on a ship with Malory and his rapidly degenerating mental state, especially since Malory was in possession of a cursed weapon they got from the bottom of a lake.
“Do I look like a sailor to you? We’ll get there when we get there,” Barlow said.
In order to receive an answer to his inquiry, Sterling left to find a crew member. Immediately after exiting the room, however, Malory grabbed him and shoved him into the wall.
“What were you really talking about in there?” He asked, eyes wide and bloodshot.
“We wanted to now how soon we’ll make it to New York,” Sterling answered, prying at Malory’s hands.
“I was just on my way to ask.”
“Good, good. You do that. Be careful, you never know when they’re listening.”
“Who?” Sterling asked, his ability to deal with this on a mental and emotional level was decreasing at an exponential rate.
“No one. Don’t worry about it. Go ask about the trip. I need to go do… something.”
As soon as Mallory let go, Sterling made a break for the upper decks, from now on, he was going to give him a wide berth. Mallory, on the other hand, made a mental note to check on Sterling. “Must be the stress getting to him,” he muttered to himself as he checked the mirrors for ghosts. Taking a brief break from his search, he looked his reflection in the eyes, “The stress may be getting to me.”
Satisfied, Malory sat on his cot and pulled the bag off his back. He drew Excalibur and gazed into its surface. “We need to talk,” he said into the sword. Even as he said it, the runes reappeared on the blade and soon Malory was sitting at a round table with nearly fifty seats. Every seat was filled with a rotting corpse. At the other end, the king sat at his throne. As it was beneath the lake, everything appeared like it was under water.
“I think I know what you want Thomas. I’ve been watching you since our first meeting. There are some strange new technologies the world now possesses, but you’ve changed so little. Am I right in saying you found it, then? The real one?”
Ignoring the question, Thomas stood up from his chair. “How do I get rid of you?” he asked.
“Me? Why would you want to get rid of me? I’m the only friend you have, everyone else here,” he said gesturing to the bodies around the table, “they want you dead for what you’ve done.”
“I did the right thing, Arthur.”
“The morality of your choice is irrelevant. You broke your oath, Thomas. You betrayed the trust of every man here.”
Thomas slammed his fists on the table. “That oath was a lie!”
“That sort of behavior is not fit for a knight such as yourself,” the King said, leaning forward. He lazily waved the rusted dagger while pointing at Thomas. “You are still a knight, yes?”
Thomas sat back into his chair and folded his arms. “I regret talking to you,” he said, “Just give up already, you can’t have me.”
“That’s not what I think. Despite how macabre this place appears, a part of you yearns to sit here again. It was your dream, to be just like your father, to spread peace. You know, I could help you… That’s what Excalibur does, it helps people. When I found it, I asked it to make me the most powerful king on Earth, now, and forever.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
“I asked Excalibur to protect me from death, it has provided a way, but my time to return is not at hand. You, on the other hand, need Excalibur now.”
“No.”
“I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t put Excalibur down since you found it. There is something you want, so just ask. Excalibur has always provided for its wielder.”
“I would rather kill myself,” Thomas hissed. he got up from his chair and tried to walk away, only to find his feet rooted in place.
“I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I realize now that that was a mistake.”
“Oh, the magic of hindsight. You know, I had a lot of time to reflect on what you did,” the king said sitting back into his seat, he looked at the dagger. “Do you recognize this? You left it behind.”
The king furrowed his brow, then shrugged. “Well, finders-keepers and all that. You probably ought to head back, things are about to get… interesting.” When the king said this, the corpses all turned to face Thomas, their exposed skulls gleamed with red.
Thomas blinked and was once again in his room.
“Sir! Sir! Something’s happened!” shouted Sterling.
“What? What is it?”
“We found a damaged Union ship, sir. Agent Riley is on board.”
“Let me speak to him,” Thomas said, getting to his feet. He stowed Excalibur into his bag and walked out on deck, ignoring the red-lined faces watching him. Thomas knew the sea wasn’t actually blood red, but the half-sinking wreck of a ship in front of him was definitely on its last legs.
“Captain Malory?”
Thomas jumped and turned, his hand instinctively went for the bag. Before Captain Malory was the bruised face of Agent Riley, sporting bandages on his waist and arm. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“Insurgents infiltrated New York, they executed the council… all of them. The association is finished.”
A silence filled the air. Malory broke it first, “Come into my cabin, we’ll talk about this in private.”
For the next three hours, while Malory and Riley discussed what had happened, Malory’s team sat in silence. Finally, Captain Malory stepped out of the room and talked to his team.
“When Riley returned from his most recent reconnaissance mission into Confederate territory, he discovered HQ was overrun with Insurgents. The Congressional Council is dead. All of them. The anomalies stored there are being transferred to an Insurgent compound in the south. The Association is gone, we are all that’s left,” Malory reported, he couldn’t read the faces of his team, seeing as they had unearthly smiles and blood dripping from every facial orifice.
The room was quiet, however, and since Thomas hadn’t experienced any auditory hallucinations, he felt like he had the read of the room.
“Even Bright?” asked Johnson.
“Riley said it took them a while, but yes. Steven Bright is dead.” Malory replied.
“What next?” asked Sterling.
“We go home. It’s over,” Barlow replied, he reached for his drink, but Malory pushed it off the table.
“We need to try to stop them,” Thomas said.
“You ain’t in the right mind to be making these sorts of decisions, Chief,” Barlow remarked, standing up. “That would be suicide.”
“So would be insubordination.”
Barlow sighed, “Fine. But we’re all gonna die.” He gestured at the rest of the team. “I hope you’re alright with that.”
Sterling stood up, “I joined the Association because I wanted to protect people. If the Insurgents get those anomalies, there’s no stopping them.”
“What about you, Johnson? O’Malley?”
O’ Malley nodded sullenly.
“I uh…” Johnson stuttered. “I can’t. I have a wife and kids. They won’t make it without me.”
Malory nodded. “I can’t force you to go, I can’t pay you or promise you anything. But If you want to live in a world safe enough for wives and children, we have to stop the insurgents.”
Beads of sweat appeared on Johnson’s pale forehead, he clasped his hands and bowed his head.
“Alright I’ll go,” he whispered, tears in his eyes. “I’ll go.”
Chapter 3
The Grail Knight
Now in the fields of West Virginia, Captain Mallory and his team watched a train track for any signs of an approaching locomotive.
“Once more over the plan,” said Captain Malory. “O’Malley and I will take the lead and go for the engine, while Barlow, Sterling and Johnson jump on the fourth boxcart. Hold the box until we get control of the engine, we’ll disable it and strand them. We pick them off as they try to get to the front of the train. Agent Riley gave us an estimation of at least 15 guards in the front 3 cars, 10 in the boxcars, and their leader is near the back with a crew of at least 25.”
“That leaves us at 12 to 1,” Barlow remarked.
“It doesn’t look great, but we have to try,” said Malory. “Once we’ve cleared out the Insurgents, Riley and Higgens will come in with the wagons, we load up the anomalies and get out.”
“What happens if we don’t make it?” asked Sterling.
“The anomalies that the Insurgents have are incredibly dangerous. They want to manipulate the war for their own gain,” Agent Riley said, “There’s no way the Union could fight back against some of those things.”
“But if they have them, can’t they use them against us?”
“They are not weaponized yet. This is our last chance.”
“Guys I see something!” called Johnson.
“Get ready to ride!” shouted Mallory, he checked the straps to the bag on his back. The urgency helped him differentiate the insanity the world had become since he had taken the sword, but it was unsettling seeing the organs dripping from the sky.
The sounds of a steam engine came closer and closer until the metal beast was on top of their position. O’Malley and Mallory pulled their horses close to the ever-turning wheels and leapt onto a small ledge on the outside of the engine. Mallory bashed in a window and crawled through. Inside, an engineer was frozen with fear and bewilderment.
“Stop the train,” he said, pointing his pistol at him.
The engineer pulled on the brakes causing sparks to fly and items to shift as the train began to halt.
O’Malley pulled himself into the engine behind Mallory.
“Listen carefully, your life depends on it. Get out of this train and do not come back.” Mallory instructed the engineer, who obliged.
“Alright Kevin, get ready,” said Mallory, pointing his gun to the door at the back. There came a knock
“Why’d we stop?” the person called.
“Engine troubles,” answered Mallory, he pulled back the hammer on his revolver.
O’Malley had his at the ready.
“Hurry up and fix it already,” said the person on the other side. Thirty seconds later, someone must have informed the man that two people riding horses came up to the train.
“If yer planning on robbing us, good luck,” the man said. “Open the door and we’ll let you live, how’s that sound?”
O’Malley answered, “What a load of crap. What do you takes us for, eh?”
No answer. The door shuddered as someone rammed into it. Again. The wood begins to splinter and crack, then finally give way. As soon as the man entered, Mallory shot him and took cover to the right, O’Malley on the left.
Mallory signaled for O’Malley to lift the brake, causing the train to shudder and move. The act caught the approaching assailants off guard, allowing Mallory to pick some off. O’Malley pulled the brake again, sending men hurdling forward. Mallory took him out as well. He made some gestures to O’Malley, informing him that he had counted 7 hostiles, but there were definitely more.
While Mallory and O’Malley were riding for the Engine, Johnson, Sterling and Barlow approached the boxcar. When the train stopped, Barlow grabbed a ladder on the exterior and climbed to the top, followed by Sterling and Johnson. Barlow motioned over to a hatch and held up 3 fingers. Sterling and Johnson both readied their weapons. 3 fingers, 2, then 1. Barlow pried at the hatch. Locked. A gunshot rang out from the engine, and Barlow pulled out his gun. He shot the lock and once again held up 3 fingers. Once all fingers were down he flung open the hatch. Almost immediately afterward the train began to move again. Inside the boxcar, they could hear people clumsily falling about.
Seizing the moment, Barlow dropped into the boxcar. There were 5 guards inside, Barlow grabbed one and put his gun to their head. Johnson and Sterling fired from the ceiling and 2 guards fell. Barlow absorbed a bullet with the guard he was holding, shoving him towardsa guardt that was still standing. He turned and shot the other guard, who’s gun discharged as it fell. The final guard dropped his gun and held up his hands.
“Please don’t kill me,” he whimpered.
“Don’t try anything funny. Tie him up, Johnson. Worst comes to worst, he’ll make a great hostage.”
Barlow commanded. “Sterling, barricade the front. Things seem to be going alright.” The gunfire from the front was letting up.
Mallory and O’Malley were facing heavy fire. As news traveled down the line, more guards made their way to the front. Finding an opening was impossible, and since Mallory and O’Malley weren’t making any shots, the guards were coming closer and closer to their position.
“Fire!” a loud voice shouted, and a volley of bullets tore through their cover. Bullets struck Mallory in the chest and lower abdomen. O’Malley got hit in the shoulder, causing him to spin out. In the open he was an easy target and 5 bullets found their mark. Pinned down, Mallory tried to control the bleeding. Given his anomalous properties, Mallory would eventually heal from his wounds but not before he lost enough blood to make him utterly useless. He could only hope the other group was doing alright.
Barlow heard the sudden burst of gunfire and knew to assume the worst.
“They’ve got a Gatling,” he said. “Of course. Just our luck. Don’t bother with the barricade, Sterling, we need to put as much distance between us and it as possible. Take him with us.”
Barlow stood at the door to the next boxcar. He held up 3 fingers, then two, then one. He opened the door.
A row of guards with rifles lowered greeted him.
Johnson came out of cover with the guard. “Put down your weapons or-“
A single shot rang out and the hostage collapsed, dead.
“Drop your weapons,” a voice commanded.
“Marshal?” Barlow growled.
“Drop. Your. Weapons.” Marshal repeated.
Knowing he was defeated, Barlow placed his gun on the floor and held up his hands. Sterling and Johnson followed suit.
“You folks are from Captain Mallory’s team, yes? Shame you missed our little welcome party we had waiting for you at New York. No matter, you are here now. Take them to the back.”
More gunfire from the front. “My goodness, someone is in a lot of trouble. That could be you if you don’t cooperate,” Marshal said. He waved his hand. “All this bloodshed isn’t really my style,” he lamented. Guards rushed to Barlow, Sterling, and Johnson and pushed them down the train, towards the caboose.
Meanwhile, Malory had managed to slow the flow of blood leaving his body, but it was too late. Guards were coming up towards him. Desperately, he searched for something he could do to change his odds, his eyes resting on O’Malley’s face. He was unsure whether the blood leaking from his eyes and mouth was from Malory’s hallucinations or if the bullets caused them. What he did know was that the face of the king stared up at him from the reflective pool of blood flowing from Mallory’s wounds. Words echoed in his mind. A Choice
Knowing his time was up, Mallory grappled with the bag on his back, the swords cutting through the fabric and landing in the blood, the runes on its surface glowing red. He grabbed it and whispered into its blade, “Now.”
The train faded and Malory once more stood in the cathedral. Much to his surprise, he could actually walk. Nothing had really changed since his last time here, other than the king’s obvious absence. He walked to the entrance and stepped out into a black void. Suddenly, he was standing in front of the open cathedral again, but instead of corpses, the rows were filled with knights, boisterously celebrating the spoils of their victory. Malory entered, holding the golden chalice and a bottle of wine.
“None of this would have been possible if it weren’t for you!” The king shouted atop his throne, he noticed Thomas. “I present to you all Sir Galahad, the Grail Knight!” Thomas walked forward with the chalice. “My King, on this day we celebrate your glorious victory!”
“Kneel before me Galahad”
Thomas placed the Chalice at the king’s feet and knelt. The King drew his sword, which glowed with illustrious power. Red runes glowed on its surface as he placed it on Galahad’s shoulder.
“The honor goes to you, for victory in battle and for finding the Holy Grail. You are hereby knighted Galahad, Knight of the Grail, your duty is to protect it and its gifts,” The grinning king grabbed the chalice and raised it. “To the Knights of the Round Table!” He drank from the Chalice.
“Long Live King Arthur!” the knights cried, “Long live the Knights of the Round Table!”
Arthur handed the chalice to Galahad, who took it to the knights sitting in the pews. One by one they drank. Some took small sips, others, large gulps. Once every knight drank from the grail, Thomas too took the chalice and lifted it to his lips. He feigned drinking from it and held it up.
“For peace, justice, and the protection of the innocent!” Thomas called. Several knights laughed, and some took up the call jauntily.
But then the king keeled over out of his throne. Excalibur vanished. Several Knights shouted, but they too were feeling the effects. One by one, the Knights fell, until none were left standing but Galahad. Those who had merely sipped from the grail moaned on the ground.
“I am sorry brothers, but the grail was not meant for the likes of you,” Galahad called out at the room of dead and dying, as if asking forgiveness. Thomas pulled out his dagger and stood over the dying knights unlucky enough to have merely sipped from the chalice. “I grant you the mercy of a quick death,” he whispered, cutting their throats, one by one. When none were left alive, Thomas dropped the dagger and the chalice at the King’s feet, he then left the cathedral, pulling a small wooden cup from his satchel. At the door he looked back. “I will protect the Grail,” He said. “May this be my final oath.”
He sipped from the real Holy Grail and walked out the door into the void. He then walked back into the cathedral, holding nothing. The corpses were just as he had left them, but now the effects of the poison were more evident. Blood began to seep from their eyes and mouth. Standing over the grisly scene, he saw the King’s corpse rise from the floor. He placed the crown back upon his head and in his hands he took the chalice and the dagger.
The King smiled smugly at Thomas. “That’s why you were after Excalibur, you want to find the grail. You gave it to the Association. That’s why you’re trying to stop them, you are trying to honor the last oath you made.”
He held up the chalice. “In doing so, you will keep what little is left of your honor and sense of self-worth. The grail is your purpose. You are the Grail Knight. You were even willing to sacrifice the lives of your fellows to get it. Not that that isn’t entirely new to you.” He gestured at the corpses.
“That’s not why I did it,” whispered Thomas, he looked down.
“Then why else?”
“When I was young, I heard tales of the Knights of the Round Table. They were heroes, fighting evil giants, corrupt monarchs and dark sorcerers. My father was a Knight,” he looked at his father's corpse, whose throat was slit. “This was my first mission, to assist the knights in retrieving the Holy Grail. But then, Philadelphia. The people there. You slaughtered them. They were peaceful, righteous Christians and you had them all killed. The ones that weren’t dead, you and your men raped and tortured. You even had the audacity to call for a search for one of the most Holy Relics in the church as if you hadn’t murdered helpless thousands.”
“I see, a moral quandary. Was it right to kill me and the Knights? Is not murder a sin? And betrayal?”
“My mother taught me to make righteous choices and to keep my oaths. she said if I did, good would always come from it. She was wrong, sometimes all you can do is the less worse thing.”
“Now I know. Thank you. What happened has happened, but it's what’s happening now that interests me. What is it you desire? What do you want?” The king held out the chalice and the dagger.
“Take the dagger and gain the strength and power to eliminate all your enemies, do this and you will lose the Grail. Take the chalice and have your precious Holy Grail and whatever honor you hope to keep by protecting it, however you will not be able to stop your enemies from getting to their home. The choice is yours.”
Thomas stood in front of the king and looked at both items. Finally, he came to a decision. Reaching out, he grasped the dagger. When he did, the cathedral vanished, and all that was left was the the king and him, in a black void. The red lines vanished from the king’s eyes and mouth and his skin returned to a pleasant tan. “We will meet again. Not soon, but we will meet. Farewell, my Grail Knight.”
Thomas was standing in the train, sword in hand. A voice filled his head. Kill He rushed forward, skewering the front guard, pulling the sword out through his shoulder, he hacked his way through the men as they cowered before him. They shot him but the bullets did nothing. Red filled his vision as he bathed Excalibur in blood and guts. Kill Them He pinned one man to the wall and sliced him from groin to gullet, causing organs to spill out of his body. Walking over them, Malory charged though the remaining guards, their screams filled the air, it felt like music.
Kill He chopped off a man’s head. Kill them. He dismembered, disemboweled, beheaded and quartered. Cart after cart his rampage continued, and for some strange reason, Thomas loved it. The carnage was art in its purest form, and Excalibur his brush and muse.
In the caboose, Marshall and his men had the 3 hostages kneel at the back.
“Unfortunately for you, only 2 get to survive. So the question is, which death will keep you most in line?” He leaned over Sterling. “Which of you will beg?”
Barlow looked at the floor, stone faced and stoic. This was a fear tactic, as long as no one took the bait they would all- “P-please don’t kill me,” Johnson pleaded, “I have a family they-“
Marshal pointed his gun at Johnson and pulled the trigger. “Shame,” he said, “I kind of wanted to hear his sob story.”
Some men grabbed Johnson’s body and tossed it over the back.
“Now, which of you will tell me how many of you there are, where you came from, and what you hoped to accomplish?”
Marshall pulled Barlow’ head up to make eye contact.
“How about you? Want to join your friend, there? Realistically, I only need one of you.”
Barlow spat at him. “The lowest chambers of hell are reserved for traitors,” he snarled.
Marshall wiped his face and smirked. “When will you learn the real power in this world isn’t anomalous junk. It's money. And I’m about to make a lot of it.” He motioned at the boxes filling the car. He walked over to one and opened it, revealing a small wooden cup.
“I don’t care what happens to these, who has them, or what they’ll do, because after they pay me, I’ll be too rich for anyone to touch me. The Confederates are losing, this is not breaking news. However, they’ve accumulated what wealth they could squeeze from their banks and plantations. They’re willing to risk it all for items like this,” he said holding up the wooden cup. “Imagine an army of unkillable soldiers lead by a leader that lives forever.”
Marshall stopped his monologue only when he heard screams and gunfire.
“That’s not good,” he said, making his way to the back of the caboose.
Suddenly Thomas Malory burst through the door, his clothing and body were riddled with holes and tears, but it continued to operate. He tore through the guards like paper, and during the chaos Barlow and Sterling rushed for cover, grabbing the weapons of fallen guards.
“Wait!” Marshall shouted, “I surrender! Please!” He crouched to the floor and hid his face. Malory was just about to rush forward and kill him before Sterling stood in his way.
“He’s surrendering, sir. Don’t kill him!”
Kill him. Kill him and then the other “No,” Malory said. “Move out of the way.”
“We need him alive!” Sterling shouted, he pointed his gun at Malory. Malory pointed the sword at Sterling, it grazed his neck.
“Out of my way,” he commanded, but Sterling held his ground. Resolved, Malory raised the sword and prepared to strike. A loud resounding “POW” filled the air and Malory fell to the ground, a bullet hole in his head. Barlow stepped over to Malory and put six bullets into the revolver. One by one, he shot Malory’s skull until nothing was left but mush. In the quiet that followed, Sterling stared in horror at Barlow. “What the-“
He was interrupted by Marshal laughing. Both men turn to see Marshal wiping his mouth while holding the wooden cup.
“You can’t kill me now!” he gloated.
Barlow clubbed him with the pistol.
“Get Riley and Higgens, we need to get everything off this train.”
“Are you sure he’s dead?”
“No, we need to burn him. First we get everything off this train.”
“Did I do the right thing?” asked Sterling.
“It doesn’t matter what you did, what matters is the consequence. Malory was unstable, you stopped him long enough to get a clean shot off, that’s what matters.”
“But now Marshall’s unkillable”
“And he’s also in custody. Look kid, if you spend too long judging your actions, you forget that everything that happened made you who you are, good and bad. If you’re a good person, you did the right thing. Simple as that.”
Epilogue
The Administrator
In the burning husk that once was a train, Malory was coming to. His head was still reforming and his brain was still developing, but he remembered everything, and as soon as he did, the voices came back. Kill. Kill them. It was useless, though, since the fire took his arms and legs, and was slowly creeping up his body. At least it was. For some odd reason, Malory felt something wet hit his face, and then more, and suddenly a torrent of water filled the room.
Strong hands grabbed Malory and pulled him out of the flaming wreck, he was place on a soft bed of sorts. Since his eyes and ears were still reforming, touch was the only reliable sense Malory had, and he knew enough that people were trying to help them. He wished they wouldn’t, because as soon as his arms and legs came back, he was going to kill them. He felt them moving him, although he was not sure were. After thirty minutes, enough of Malory’s eyes had come back for him to get a general idea of what was happening. People in strange black suits of armor were carrying him on a stretcher, in the distance he could see a blurry grey blob, which descended from the sky and landed in front of them.
On closer inspection, the blob was actually made of metal and moved on its own. Was it steam powered? He didn’t know. His arms were still growing so he couldn’t resist them when they put him inside the metal flying contraption. When his ears grew back Malory was surprised to hear metallic buzzing and whirring. What was going on?
Malory had no idea how long he was in this strange metal thing, but by the end of it, Malory had his arms and legs back, as well as full control over his senses. He tried to escape the stretcher, but his arms and legs were tied down. When the metal machine landed again, men grabbed his stretcher and exited. He immediately recognized that he was at Mount Vernon in Virginia. He looked behind him to see a man in a white coat carrying a long box. Kill them. Take Back the Sword. Malory couldn’t obey the voice, and it was making him angry.
They took him inside to a parlor room and set him on the ground. Standing in front of a window was a person in a black suit with a strangely fashioned necktie. Malory couldn’t see their face, but their skin was pure white, like snow.
“Sir, package has been delivered”
“Excellent, has Team 2 finished administering amnestics?” the voice came from the person in front of the window. Something was odd about the voice; it was neither male nor female. It felt more like Thomas had read the words instead of hearing them.
“Yes sir, they’re on their way.”
“Good. Bring in Doctor Clef if you would,”
“Right away sir”
The door closed and opened again soon thereafter.
“This is him? He’s changed a lot.”
“You’re not in here for him, you’re here for the anomaly. It’s in the case.”
“Right,” A man walked over to the person with a box in his hands. He opened it and pulled out the sword. On contact, the sword glowed with red runes, similar to but different from the ones Malory had seen. “Theses runes… possible Davite origin. Cognitohazard, class: safe. Top security sector for sure. I’ll take this to the lab.”
“Very good, Doctor.”
“Of course, Administrator. See you around.”
Dr. Clef packed the sword into the case and walked out of the room.
“Thomas Malory Galahad, this must all be very confusing for you. How rude of me, you probably aren’t too keen on communicating while under Excalibur’s effects. Let me fix that for you.” Just as the words were spoken, Thomas’s mind cleared. The horrors of what occurred and the confusion of what was happening began to set in.
“What’s going on? Who are you?”
“This will not be a regular occurrence, we assure you, but we will answer some of your questions. First of all, we are the Administrator, as you may have well guessed. Our purpose is to keep this reality alive. We are not one person, but a conglomerate of several persons with one thing in common. Second, you were rescued from being burned alive and your mind was purified because we have need of you, Thomas. You will one day be instrumental in protecting this reality.”
“What? Reality?”
“Reality as you know it has two fundamentals key to its existence. There must be anomalies and there must be those who contain them. Should one or both sides be lost, our universe would cease to be. There are several other realities, some in which we are less active and some -like this one- where we must take direct action from time to time to protect reality.
“What do I have to do with this?”
“We know everything in this reality, and we know that without you, we lose a fundamental, thus destroying your reality and everything in it. Sp far our predecessors have failed. The Brotherhood fell, the Association dissolved. In order to maintain a reality full of both fundamentals, an organization must exist, a foundation, as it were, that contains anomalies and doesn’t release them into the world. You will lead that organization someday.
“What?”
The door opened and someone came through, “Sir the amnestics team has returned”
“The mission was a success, go back to base for debriefing.”
“Yes sir.”
The Administer turned to Malory, revealing their face, which he couldn’t quite comprehend. It looked human, but which human?
“Barlow, Sterling, Riley, and Higgens have all the anomalies from the train. They no longer remember what you did there, just that you helped them. Stay close to those anomalies everywhere they go. This won’t be the last we see of each other, but it will be many years until then. Farewell, Overseer.”
Then he was gone. Malory was alone in the room, he blinked and suddenly he was standing in front of a rundown stable, Malory recognized the wagons. He walked into the stables and found the remnants of his team, huddled around a table.
“Captain Malory? Is that you?” Sterling asked
“Yes. From now on, call me Galahad.”
Chapter One
The Lady of the Lake
On a cloudy August day in 1864, an unusually large boat sat in the dead center of Nimue Lake in Wales. Nimue was cursed, although no one really knew the true nature of the dark energy surrounding it. The old man at the pub said that it was the site of an ancient pagan blood ritual. His friend corrected him and said it was where the cult committed suicide when it had been ousted from the nearby villages. A vagrant on the street claimed that the lake was warm because its depth was enough to feel the fires of hell.
It was a strange sight to behold, 6 Americans deep sea diving into a cursed lake. They were agents of the Association for the Protection, Containment, and Security of Paranormal Instances. There was a tension in the air as they took turns on the bellows and monitored the pressure as ropes and tubes were pulled into spools. the diver breached and was pulled on board, and as he removed his helmet, the men stood around him, waiting for a report.
“I didn’t reach the bottom,” the diver, Paul Johnson said, ashamed. His captain looked him up and down.
“Why?” He asked. It was impossible to detect any sign of malice or compassion in his voice.
“I got… scared, sir. It’s dark, and my head was starting to hurt.”
“Take off the suit, Johnson. I’ll do it myself,” the captain said.
With those words, the captain donned the brass helmet and suit. He stepped off the boat, the long lengths of tubes and ropes began to unspool as he descended. The water was completely devoid of all life and was unusually warm. Beneath him was the endless abyss, above him the rapidly fading light. The long descent into darkness was causing his anxiety to peak.
He was startled when his feet touched the bottom. Faintly he could see something glowing in the distance. As he trudged across the muddy depths the light grew brighter until he saw its source: the naked blade of an ancient arming sword. Inscribed on it were indecipherable runes that pulsated with light and heat every few seconds. A high-pitched ringing echoed in his ears. Holding the blade was the corpse of a young woman, mummified by the pressures of the deep. Her empty sockets gazed upward as if longing to escape. “The Lady of the Lake,” the captain whispered. With a tug, he freed the sword from her grasp and the world melted around him.
The captain tried to get his bearings. He was in a stone cathedral with rows of pews on either side, each full of cadavers. Everything appeared like it was underwater. Where the pulpit should be was a corpse, keeled over on a crumbling throne.
“Why have you come?” a voice asked.
As the captain tried to pinpoint the source, the body sat up. Its skin was grey like the armor it wore. Its pupils were red and dilated. Blood leaked out its eyes and its mouth, running into its beard and down its neck. On its head was a golden crown full of jewels. In one hand it bore a chalice, in the other a rusting dagger.
“Hello Thomas.”
“What are you?” Thomas asked. He tried to move but found himself stuck in place.
“I am the Pendragon. You found Excalibur, my sword. I must implore of you, what is it you seek?”
Thomas wanted to say what he sought, but he stopped himself. The king nodded and said, “Difficult choices may take some time, come to me again when you’re ready.”
The cathedral collapsed around him until he was once again at the bottom of the lake. With nothing else left to do, Thomas signaled the surface. Not long afterward, the ropes holding him tugged him upward.
During Thomas’s ascension, the sword’s pulsing slowly waned until the runes vanished into the blade.
Eventually, light from the surface reached Thomas’s face. The pulling began to slow as Thomas drew closer to the surface Something was wrong, though, the full moon was red and dripping with blood. With a clatter, Thomas threw the sword onto the ship, pulling himself up after it.
“Don’t touch it!” He commanded his men, with a fury in his voice they had never heard from him before. he stripped off the diving gear and scooped the sword off the deck. By the light of the sword, he could faintly see red lines of blood dripping from his squadron’s eyes and mouths.
“Sir, are you… alright?” asked Nathaniel Higgens, the team’s medic.
“I’m fine,” Thomas answered, “Get moving, we’re taking the next ship back to New York.”
Chapter 2
The Round Table
Every night for the past 3 weeks since he retrieved Excalibur, Thomas had the same dream. He was on a hill overlooking a war-ravaged city, at the center of which stood a large stone cathedral. Its doors opened and blood poured out into the streets. Through all this Thomas could hear thousands of screams. With each successive night full of terror, Thomas was becoming more and more paranoid, and his men noticed.
“That sword’s done something to him. He’s under its spell. Must be why he always looks so on edge and never lets anyone touch it,” announced Kevin O’Malley, “I’ve seen things like this before.”
“They’ve got a new-fangled name for that at HQ, cognito-hazard or something,” said Higgens as he carved a wooden block.
“Will he be alright?” Carl Sterling asked.
“I sometimes forget you’re new. Captain Malory’s been with the Association longer than any of us. Rumor has it he was even part of the ol’ Brethren back in the day,” Flint Barlow said, reaching for his drinking glass.
“How? The Brotherhood ended over 50 years ago.”
“You did your research, kid. Here’s the thing: Malory can’t die. Don’t rightly now how or why, but it would take God himself smiting the earth to kill ‘im.”
“Wait, then how old is he?” Sterling asked, confused. Sterling was a careful man. Before agreeing to join the team, he did vigorous research into Malory and his crew. Malory didn’t have a birthday listed, but Sterling had chalked that up to a simple oversight.
“Consider that’s he’s been searching for that sword his whole life. I get the feeling that this isn’t the first time he’s seen it, just the first time he’s held it.” Barlow picked his teeth.
“That doesn’t bother you?” Sterling asked, bewildered.
“Kid, you ain’t seen nothing yet. As far as weird things go? Malory is pretty tame. My advice is just move on.”
“You were talking about me?” Thomas Malory entered the room. He had a lumpy bag on his back which clearly contained Excalibur.
“Sterling was asking when your birthday was, that’s all. Says he’ll bake you a cake and everything.”
“December 10th,” Malory said, his shifty eyes searched the corners of the room. “Don’t bother with the cake.” Just as soon as he entered, he left again.
“He’s not okay,” said Sterling.
“Not much we can do about it here,” Higgens spoke up. “Best leave him be until we get back to the States.”
“How soon?” Sterling asked.
“Do I look like a sailor to you? We’ll get there when we get there,” Barlow growled.
To find out, Sterling left to find a seaman. Immediately after exiting the room, however, Malory grabbed his throat and shoved him into the wall.
“What were you really talking about in there?” He asked, eyes wide and bloodshot.
“We wanted to know how soon we’ll make it to New York,” Sterling choked, prying at Malory’s hands. “I was going to ask.”
Malory released him. “Good, good. You do that. Be careful, you never know when he’s listening.”
“Who?” Sterling asked, his ability to deal with this on a mental and emotional level was decreasing at an exponential rate.
“No one. Don’t worry about it. Go ask about the trip. I need to go do… something.”
Sterling made a break for the upper decks, from now on, he was going to give his captain a wide berth. Mallory, on the other hand, made a mental note to check on Sterling. “Must be the stress getting to him,” he muttered to himself as he checked the mirrors for ghosts. Taking a break from his search, he looked his reflection in the eyes, “The stress must be getting to me.”
Malory sat on his cot and pulled the bag off his back. He drew Excalibur and gazed into its surface. “We need to talk,” he said into the sword. As he said it, the runes flashed on the blade and soon Malory was sitting at a round table with nearly fifty seats in a dark void. Every seat was filled with a rotting corpse. At the other end, the king sat at his throne. As it was beneath the lake, everything appeared to be under water.
“I’m beginning to understand, Thomas. The world possesses so many strange new inventions, but you’ve changed so little. Am I right in saying you actually found it?”
Ignoring the question, Thomas stood up from his chair. “How do I get rid of you?” he asked.
“Me? Why would you want to get rid of me? I’m the only friend you have, everyone else here,” he said gesturing to the bodies around the table, “they want you dead for what you’ve done.”
“I did what I had to.”
“Right or wrong doesn’t matter. You broke your oath, Thomas. You betrayed the trust of every man here.”
Thomas placed his hands on the table. “That oath was a lie,” he said through gritted teeth.
“That sort of behavior isn’t fit for a knight such as yourself,” the King said, leaning forward. He lazily pointed the rusty dagger at Thomas. “You’re still a knight, yes?”
Thomas sat back into his chair and folded his arms. “I regret coming here,” he said, “Just give up, you can’t have me.”
“That’s not what I think. Despite how macabre this place appears, a part of you yearns to sit here again. It was your dream to be with your father, to be the hero you thought he was. How ironic is it then, to have the Holy Grail and betray your fellows, just as Judas did before?”
Losing he temper, Thomas shouted, “I don’t have it! Not anymore-”
“Is that why you sought Excalibur, then? Knowing it could lead you back to the Grail?”
Realizing he had said too much, Thomas sealed his lips.
“I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I made a mistake coming here.”
“Oh, the magic of hindsight. I had a lot of time to reflect on what you did,” the king said sitting back into his seat, he looked at the dagger. “Do you recognize this? You left it behind.”
The king furrowed his brow, then shrugged. “Well, finders-keepers and all that. You probably ought to head back, things are about to get interesting.”
When the king said this, the corpses turned to face Thomas, their gaunt faces defaced with red lines of blood, in unison they spoke, “We’re watching”
Thomas blinked and was once again in his room.
“Sir! Sir! Something’s happened!” shouted Sterling, banging on the door.
“What? What is it?”
“There’s a damaged Union ship, sir. Agent Riley is on board, he looks pretty bad.”
“Let me speak to him,” Thomas said, getting to his feet. He stowed Excalibur into his bag and walked out on deck, ignoring the red-lined faces watching him. Thomas knew the sea wasn’t actually blood red, but the half-sunken wreck of a ship in front of him was definitely on its last legs.
“Captain Malory?” Agent Riley asked, he was wearing several bandages.
“What happened?” Malory asked.
“Insurgents infiltrated New York. They executed the council.”
“Come into my cabin, we’ll talk about this in private.”
For the next three hours, while Malory and Riley discussed what had happened, Malory’s team sat in silence. Finally, Captain Malory came to talk to them.
“When Riley returned from his most recent reconnaissance mission into Confederate territory, he discovered HQ was overrun with Insurgents. The council is dead. The anomalies stored there are being transferred to an Insurgency compound in the south. The Association is gone, and we are all that’s left.”
Malory couldn’t read the faces of his team, seeing as they had blood dripping from every facial orifice. The room was quiet, however, and since Thomas hadn’t experienced any auditory hallucinations so far, he felt like he had the read of the room.
“Even Bright?” Johnson asked.
“Riley said it took them a while, but yes. Steven Bright is dead.” Malory replied.
“What next?” asked Sterling.
“We go home. It’s over,” Barlow replied. He reached for his drink, but Malory pushed it off the table.
“We need to try to stop them,” Thomas said.
“You’re not in the right mind to be making these sorts of decisions, Chief,” Barlow retorted, standing up. “What you’re suggesting is suicide.”
“You have a better plan?”
Barlow sighed, “Fine, but we’re all gonna die.” He gestured at the rest of the team. “I hope you’re alright with that.”
Sterling stood up, “I joined the Association because I wanted to protect people. If the Insurgency get those anomalies, there’s no stopping them.”
“What about you, Johnson? O’Malley?” O’ Malley nodded sullenly.
“I uh…” Johnson stuttered. “I can’t. I have a wife and kids.”
Malory nodded. “I can’t force you to go, I can’t pay you or promise you anything, but if you want to live in a world safe enough for wives and children, we have to stop the insurgents.”
Beads of sweat appeared on Johnson’s pale forehead, he clasped his hands and bowed his head.
“I’ll go,” he whispered, tears in his eyes. “I’ll go.”
Chapter 3
The Grail Knight
Now in the remotes fields of Virginia, Captain Mallory and his team watched a train track for any signs of an approaching locomotive. “Once more over the plan,” said Captain Malory. “O’Malley and I will take the lead and go for the engine, while Barlow, Sterling and Johnson jump on the fourth boxcar. Hold out until we get control of the engine, we’ll disable it and strand them. We pick them off as they try to get to the front of the train. Agent Riley gave us an estimation of at least 15 guards in the front 3 cars, 10 in the boxcars, and their leaders are near the back with a crew of at least 25.”
“That leaves us at 12 to 1,” Barlow said.
“It doesn’t look great, but we have to try,” said Malory. “Once we’ve cleared out the Insurgents, Riley and Higgens will bring the wagons. Then we load up the anomalies and get out.”
“What happens if we don’t make it?” asked Sterling.
“The insurgents want the anomalies to sell to the confederates. They want to manipulate the war for their own gain,” Agent Riley said, “There’s no way the Union could fight back against some of those things.”
“Guys I see something!” called Johnson.
“Get ready to ride!” shouted Mallory, he checked the straps to the bag on his back. The urgency helped him differentiate this from the insanity the world had become since he had taken the sword, but it was unsettling seeing the bloody angles weeping in the sky.
The sounds of a steam engine grew louder until it was on top of their position. O’Malley and Mallory pulled their horses close to the ever-turning wheels and leapt onto a small ledge on the outside of the engine. Mallory bashed in a window and crawled through. Inside, an engineer was frozen with fear.
“Stop the train,” he said, pointing his pistol at him.
The engineer pulled on the brakes causing sparks to fly and items to shift as the train halted.
O’Malley pulled himself into the engine behind Mallory.
“Leave and don't come back.” Mallory instructed the engineer, who obliged.
“Get ready,” said Mallory, pointing his gun to the door at the back. There came a knock
“Why’d we stop?” the person asked.
“Engine troubles,” answered Mallory, he pulled back the hammer on his revolver.
O’Malley had his at the ready.
“Hurry up and fix it already,” said the person on the other side. Thirty seconds later, someone must have informed the man that two people riding horses came up to the train.
“If you’re planning on robbing us, good luck,” the man said. “Open the door and we’ll let you live, how’s that sound?”
O’Malley answered, “What fools do you takes us for, eh?”
No answer. The door shuddered as someone rammed into it. Again. The wood begins to splinter and crack, then finally give way. As soon as the man entered, Mallory shot him and took cover to the right, O’Malley on the left. Mallory signaled for O’Malley to lift the brake, causing the train to shudder and move. The act caught the approaching assailants off guard, allowing Mallory to pick some off. O’Malley pulled the brake again, sending men hurdling forward, allowing Mallory to pick off 3 guards. He gestured to O’Malley, informing him that he had counted at least 7 hostiles.
While Mallory and O’Malley were riding for the Engine, Johnson, Sterling and Barlow approached the boxcar. When the train stopped, Barlow grabbed a ladder on the exterior and climbed to the top, followed by Sterling and Johnson. Barlow motioned over to a hatch and held up 3 fingers. Sterling and Johnson both readied their weapons. 3 fingers, 2, then 1. Barlow pried at the hatch. Locked. A gunshot rang out from the engine, and Barlow pulled out his gun. He shot the lock and flung open the hatch. Almost immediately afterward the train began to move again. Inside the boxcar, they could hear people clumsily falling about.
Seizing the moment, Barlow dropped into the boxcar. There were 5 guards inside. Barlow grabbed one and put his gun to their head. Johnson and Sterling fired from the ceiling. 2 guards fell. Barlow blocked a bullet with the guard he was holding, shoving him towards the guards that were still standing. He turned and shot the other guard. The final guard dropped his gun and held up his hands.
“Please don’t kill me,” he whimpered.
“Tie him up, Johnson. Worst comes to worst, he’ll make a great hostage.” Barlow commanded. “Sterling, barricade the front.” The gunfire from the engine was letting up.
Mallory and O’Malley were facing heavy fire. As news traveled down the line, more guards made their way to the front. Finding an opening was impossible, and since Mallory and O’Malley weren’t making any shots, the guards were coming closer and closer to their position.
“Fire!” a voice shouted, and a volley of bullets tore through their cover. Bullets struck Mallory in the chest and lower abdomen. O’Malley got hit in the shoulder, causing him to spin out. In the open he was an easy target. All Mallory could do was play dead. He could only hope the other group was doing alright.
Barlow heard the burst of gunfire and knew to assume the worst.
“They’ve got a Gatling,” he said. “Just our luck. Don’t bother with the barricade, Sterling, we need to put as much distance between us and it as possible. Take him with us.”
Barlow stood at the door to the next boxcar. On the count of 3, he swung it open, only to be met by a row of guards with guns.
Johnson came to the front with the hostage. “Put down your weapons or-“
A single shot rang out and the hostage collapsed.
“Drop your weapons,” a voice commanded.
“Marshall?” Barlow growled.
“Drop. Your. Weapons.” Marshall repeated, he was standing beside an Insurgency sergeant.
Knowing he was defeated; Barlow placed his gun on the floor and held up his hands. Sterling and Johnson followed suit.
“You folks are from Captain Mallory’s team, yes? Shame you missed the little welcome party we had waiting for you at New York. Take them to the back.”
More gunfire from the front. “My goodness, someone is in a lot of trouble,” Marshall said. He waved his hand. “All this bloodshed isn’t really my style,” he lamented. Guards rushed to Barlow, Sterling, and Johnson and pushed them down the train, towards the caboose.
Meanwhile, guards were closing in on Malory’s position. Desperately, he searched for something he could do to change his odds, his eyes resting on O’Malley’s face, in his dead eyes, Malory could see the King with his hand outstretched.
Knowing it was now or never, Mallory grappled with the bag on his back. The sword cut through the fabric and landing in the blood, the runes on its surface glowing red. Reaching, he grasped it before, the guards could kick it away. The train faded and Malory once more stood in the cathedral, in one hand he held a golden chalice, and in the other, a bottle of wine. He walked through the rows of pews, each full of loud and cheering knights to present his spoils to the king.
“None of this would have been possible if it weren’t for you!” The king shouted to his congregation from atop his throne. He noticed Thomas.
“I present to you all Sir Galahad, the Grail Knight!”
Thomas walked forward with the chalice. “My King, on this day we celebrate this glorious victory!”
“Kneel before me Galahad.”
Thomas placed the Chalice and wine at the king’s feet and knelt. The King drew his sword, which glowed with illustrious power. Red runes glowed on its surface as he placed it on Galahad’s shoulder.
“The honor goes to you, for victory in battle, and for finding the Holy Grail. You are hereby knighted Galahad, Knight of the Grail, your duty is to protect it and its gifts,” The grinning king grabbed the chalice and raised it. “To the Knights of the Round Table!” He drank from the Chalice.
“Long Live King Arthur Pendragon!” the knights cried, “Long live the Knights of the Round Table!”
Arthur handed the chalice to Galahad, who took it to the knights sitting in the pews. One by one they drank. Some took small sips, others, drank heavily. Once every knight drank from the grail, Thomas too took the chalice and lifted it to his lips. He feigned drinking from it and held it up.
“For peace, justice, and the protection of the innocent!” he called. Several knights laughed, and some took up the call jauntily.
The celebrating ended when the king keeled over out of his throne. Excalibur vanished. Several Knights shouted, but they too were feeling the effects. One by one, the Knights fell, until none were left standing but Galahad. Those who had merely sipped the poison lay moaning on the ground.
“I am sorry brothers, but the grail was not meant for you,” Galahad called out at the room of dead and dying, as if asking for forgiveness. He pulled out his dagger and cut the throats of the survivors until none were left alive. Thomas dropped the dagger and the chalice at the king’s feet and left the cathedral, pulling a small wooden cup from his satchel. At the door he looked back. “I will protect the Grail,” He announced as he left. “May this be my final oath.”
He then walked back into the cathedral, holding nothing. The corpses were just as he had left them, but now the effects of the poison were more evident. Blood seeped from their eyes and mouths. He saw the King’s corpse rise from the floor, place the crown on his head and take the chalice and the dagger.
The King smiled smugly at Thomas. “This is why you sought Excalibur. You gave the Grail to the Association, but now you want it back. Excalibur could do that, and make sure you will never be parted with it again.”
He held up the chalice. “In doing so, you keep what little is left of your honor and sense of self-worth. The grail is your purpose. You are the Grail Knight. When the Insurgents took it, you didn’t even hesitate to sacrifice your friends to get it. Not that that isn’t entirely new to you.” He gestured at the corpses.
“That’s not why I did it,” whispered Thomas.
“Why else?”
“In my youth, I heard tales of the Knights of the Round Table. They were my heroes. My father was a Knight,” he looked over the corpses. “My first mission was to assist the knights in retrieving the Holy Grail. Here, at Philadelphia you and your men slaughtered them. They were peaceful, righteous Christians! Afterwards, you and the Knights raped and tortured the survivor without mercy. Why would I give you the most holy artifact in the church as if you hadn’t killed helpless thousands?”
“Was it right to kill me and the Knights? Is not murder a sin? And betrayal?”
“I used to believe in doing what is right. Now I know that sometimes all you can do is the less bad thing.”
“So what is the less bad thing in this instance?” The king asked, holding out the chalice and the dagger. “Take the dagger and gain the strength and power to eliminate all your enemies, do this and you will lose the Grail, but stop the Insurgency. Take this chalice and have your precious Holy Grail and whatever honor you hope to keep by protecting it, however the Insurgents will win. The choice is yours.”
With shaking hands, Thomas began to reach for the chalice. He could almost feel the Grail in his hands once more. However, his conscious eroded his selfish desire, and he grasped the dagger. When he did, the red lines vanished from the king’s eyes and smiling mouth. “We will meet again very soon. Farewell, my Grail Knight.”
Thomas was once more in the train with Excalibur. A new voice in his head urged him to attack and maim, he felt stronger, and angrier. He rushed forward, skewering the guards. KILL. He hacked his way through the men as they cowered before him. They shot him but the bullets could not stop him. Red filled his vision as he bathed Excalibur in blood. KILL THEM. He pinned one man to the wall and sliced him from groin to gullet. He charged though the remaining guards, their screams filling the air.
KILL. He chopped off a head. KILL THEM. He dismembered, disemboweled, beheaded and quartered. His bloodlust was unceasing, and for strangely, Thomas loved it. The carnage was art in its purest form, and Excalibur his brush and muse.
In the caboose, Marshall and the sergeant had the 3 hostages kneel.
“Unfortunately, only 2 of you get to survive. So, which death will keep you most in line?” The Insurgency sergeant leaned over Sterling. “Which of you will beg?”
Barlow looked at the floor, stone faced and stoic. This was a scare tactic. As long as no one took the bait they would all-
“P-please don’t kill me,” Johnson pleaded, “I have a family they-“
The sergeant pointed his gun at Johnson and pulled the trigger.
“Now, which of you will tell me how many of you there are, where you came from, and what you hoped to accomplish?”
The sergeant pulled Barlow’ head up to make eye contact.
“How about you? Want to join your friend, there?”
Barlow stared into his eyes and clenched his teeth.
Marshall spoke up, “That’s quite enough of that, Sergeant Willis.”
Sergeant Willis backed away.
Marshall sighed as he opened a crate to his left. “I always liked you Barlow.” He grabbed an item and turned back to face him. “I admired your resolve, your strength. Tell you what, spill the beans and you and your friend can go, free as birds with very fat pockets.”
“Go to hell.”
“If this is about the betrayal, don’t take it too personally. I don’t care what happens to these anomalies, who has them, or what they’ll do, because after they pay me, I’ll be too rich for anyone to touch me. Sadly, Confederates are losing. However, they’ve accumulated what wealth they could squeeze from their banks and plantations. They’re willing to risk it all for items like this,” he said holding up a wooden cup. “Imagine an army of unkillable soldiers lead by a leader that never dies.”
Marshall was interrupted by screams and gunfire.
“That’s not good,” he frowned, retreating to the back.
Malory burst through the door, his clothing and body were riddled with holes. He tore through the guards like paper, and during the chaos Barlow and Sterling rushed for cover, grabbing the weapons of fallen guards.
“Wait!” Marshall shouted, “I surrender! Please!” He crouched to the floor and hid his face. Malory finished chopping up Sergeant Willis and staggered towards Marshall. To his surprise, Sterling stood in his way.
“He’s surrendering, sir. Don’t kill him!”
KILL HIM. KILL THEM BOTH. “No,” Malory whispered. “Get away.”
“We need him alive!” Sterling shouted.
Malory held the sword tip to Sterling’s neck. “Out of my way,” he commanded, but Sterling held his ground.
Malory raised his sword to strike, but before he could a gunshot ripped through his skull, causing him to collapse. Barlow stepped over to Malory and put six more bullets into his head until nothing was left but mush. In the quiet that followed, Sterling stared in horror. “What-“
He was interrupted by Marshal laughing. Both men turn to see him wiping his mouth while holding the wooden cup. "You can’t kill me now!” he boasted.
Barlow clubbed him with the pistol.
“Get Riley and Higgens, we need to get everything off this train.”
“Is the captain… dead?”
“No. We’ll have to burn him.”
They gave the signal, and Riley and Higgens arrived with the wagons.
After the anomalies were loaded, Barlow lit the fire and walked away.
“Ashes to ashes,” he told the roaring flames.
“Where do we go now?” asked Sterling.
“Washington, I reckon,” Barlow said, “We’ll drop off Marshall and the anomalies, then I’m going home.”
He gazed over the wreckage. “I think I’m done.”
