[h1][center]Collaboration between Heat and Nevix[/center][/h1][hr]

Tonight was not like most nights. Which was saying something, as most of Galahad's nights followed a predictable path. 

First, he'd don his armor a safe distance from his home in the Northern Suburbs of Ankora. Then, he'd do a spot inspection of his equipment. Then he'd set off on one of his patrol routes. A litlle earpiece in his helm was tuned to a police scanner. He'd hear of crimes in progress and stop them if they were within his power. Then, he'd put away his armor and have a drink at one of his favorite downtown dive bars. 

Tonight was not like most nights. 

Tonight, Galahad would not be going on patrol. It felt strange, not going over routes in hs head. He had more important things to do. Or, rather, he had one very important thing to do. It had come to his attention that a Vigilante called Vindicator was becoming more active. Normally, he'd celebrate such a fact. There was one fact preventing him from doing so.

Vindicator was Accord-Compliant. The very thought made him angry. In his mind, the Compliants were sell-outs. Vigilantes who had given up the very thing that made them so effective, their independence. Of course, they thought him to be a selfish asshole who was driving the city further into chaos due to his stubborness. Or, that's what Stryker had believed at any rate. 

Galahad furiously shook his head. He couldn't think about her, not now, at any rate. He needed to focus on the task at hand. He needed to find Vindicator. Convince him, or perhaps, her, to join The Round Table. Galahad occupied himself as he searched by thinking of which title they'd take. Lancelot, perhaps? Or Arthur? Gawain? Such thoughts drove him as he searched for the armored hero.

Vindicator walked through the street, he didn't pass by many civilians and if he did then he sort of enjoyed how they looked at him in amazement. He was fully legalized as a vigilante, so technically he was on patrol. As he moved down a sidewalk his eyes scanned the area around him. There were no criminals, nor crimes going on that he could hear in the distance. He should have invested in one of those police radios, maybe ask his handler about it. Convince the man he'd use it to 'protect the innocent' or some goody bullshit.

As the armored man walked he glanced at windows of the stores and houses he passed by. Many of them were sealed tightly and curtained, that didn't surprise him. He took another turn down an alley, a short cut on the path back to his apartment. It was still a few blocks away and he wasn't sure what he was going to do. Maybe go to one of the strip clubs and get a lapdance, or relax in a bar somewhere. His mind flashed back to his takedown of the five criminals that were robbing a pawn shop, poor kids barely knew what hit them. It made him almost laugh out loud.

"Perceval!" Galahad whispered into his radio. "Are you in position?"

"Yes, sir." Came the slightly garbled replied. 

Galahad allowed himself a smile. At the very least, he wouldn't die here tonight. Not so long as Perceval did his job. He made sure his helmet was on tight, and drew his sword and shield. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the alley and into the street, finding himself facing Vindicator, about ten feet away.

It hadn't been hard to find Vindicator. He had merely followed the screams of wounded man in an alley. A slight incentive, by way of threats, had yielded him the direction the Vigilante had headed. From there, they tracked him and set up the "ambush".

"Greetings!" Shouted Galahad in a neutral tone. "You are Vindicator, correct?"

"You're god damn right, who are you supposed to be?" Vindicator said back as he paused in stride once the stranger emerged in front of him. 

The man had his weapons, an old timey sword and shield drawn. His get up reminded him of that knight from that old Monty Python movie. That amused him a bit. His armor was practical, whatever this stranger had on was something else entirely.

Galahad frowned under his helm. He had hoped that this, Vindicator, would be nicer. It was no matter. God knew he wasn't nice, Stryker could attest to that. He sighed.

"I am Galahad." He said firmly. "One of the three surviving founders of the Peacekeepers, and the only one who hasn't sold their soul to Uncle Sam." He cleared his throat. He should have phrased that differently. He didn't want a fight. "I have a proposition for you, Vindicator. I'm intending to gather thirteen vigilantes for my new group. So tell me, Compliant. Will you join the Round Table?"

Vindicator was silent as he listened to Galahad's words. He carefully processed each one, recognising the Peacekeepers when they were mentioned. They'd disbanded a year after he returned the civilian life. This man also knew that Mason was compliant with the Accord, that didn't surprise him. He was a pretty well known vigilante. As the man's offer went on Vindicator had to stop himself from laughing. Round Table? Was he King Arthur? 

"What's in it for me? I'm pretty cozy having 'sold my soul to Uncle Sam'. I do just fine by myself, I've taken down countless criminals and protected many lives. What will becoming a knight of this Round Table get me?" Vindicator replied, smirking towards the end of his words.

"What's in it for you?" Galahad was taken aback. He was silent for a moment, surprise brewing into anger. "You fucking rat! I'll have no words with one such as you." He raised his sword and shield. He hadn't come looking for a fight, but his temper had gotten the better of him. He thrust his sword into the air melodramatically. He sighed in relief as he saw his partner creep up behind Vindicator. He only hoped the boy was ready. 

Perceval practically sprinted into the street when he saw Galahad raise his sword. That was the signal, right?

[i]It's probably the signal.[/i]

He produced a long revolver from his coat. He frowned slightly. The revolver didn't [i]quite[/i] fit the seventeenth-century highwayman vibe he was going for, but he wasn't about to use a matchlock or something. He took a deep breath and pressed the barrel to the back of Vindicator's helmet, his other hand clutching a dagger.

"Put whatever weapons you have on the ground."

Vindicator did not expect such a reaction from the hero. It was a bit overly dramatic, but so was the costume. Seemed he gotten offended by a simpe question. Mason didn't even believe it was a bad one at that, some heroes were poor and needed heathcare or whatever. He was taken care of in that situation and only inquired to entertain the vigilante.

"Fuck that. I dare you to pull that trigger kid. I'm a god damn hero, you kill me and the government will show you no mercy. Every single one of the others that are compliant will come hunting for your head, they won't be half as nice as I am." Vindicator answered as he kept his hands and weapons where they were. 

Killing another vigilante, especially one as famed as he was would only go badly for these wannabes. The public adored him, he dies and they find out who did it, well they could kiss goodbye to their plans for a respected team. He didn't really want to kill these fools, but if they pushed him enough then he'd put them down. They were technically criminals.

The noise of a pin getting pulled could be heard as tear gas canister dropped from Vindicator's belt. He hit the switch on his mask, givinghim access to the oxygen supply in his mask. With a smile on his face he threw an armored elbow backwards into the punk that held the gun to him. Then with his other freehand he drew his already loaded shotgun from its holster on his back. 

He moved towards his side, standing so that he could look at both men that were after him, his shotgun aimed towards Percival as the tear gas started to spew out from the grenade.

Galahad cursed himself. If only he could get his damn temper under control. He blew up at Vindicator for asking a question, and now Perceval was in danger.

[i]Damn it! Damnitdamnitsamnit...[/i]

He rapidly surveyed the situation. Vindicator had the advantage. The shotgun pointed at Perceval rooted Galahad in place. He couldn't move, lest Perceval end up with a few new holes. The tear gas would keep Perceval from drawing his own weapon. Luckily, Galahad's mask had an air filter, but that only solved one of his problems. 

He could make a dash towards Vindicator. If he measured his strides right, he could probably have a sword at his throat. Then again, his sword might not be very effective. Logris could penetrate a lot of armor, but something of that quality, he wasn't sure.

Alternatively, he could surrender. This posed a few problems. First off, he didn't want too. He didn't want to imagine the chiding Perceval would give him for blowing up like that, and he definitely didn't want to think about the smug look Stryker would give him when he was brought to court in handcuffs. Besides, he was wanted for four counts of muder, two on resisting arrest, one on illegal vigilantism, and one assault on an officer. It wasn't really an option.

He'd have to attack, and he'd have to move fast. Bash him with the shield, get his helmet off. If he got his helmet off, he was fairly sure he could win this. So long as he had his sword, he was fairly sure he couldn't be bested in physical combat. Then again, he'd been wrong several times tonight. He took a deep breath and acted.

The tear gas was, for Galahad, advantageous. Perceval would disagree, if his moans and wheezing were any indication, but the gas had created a slight screen between the Knight and Vindicator. He couldn't hide, not by a longshot, but it might mask his initial movement. He bounded forwards, coming to bear in but two strides. He shouted and brought his shield towards Vindicator's head.

As Perceval suffered through the tear gas to one side of him, Vindicator heard footsteps to his other side. He had to gave Galahad some credit, he was bold. That wasn't always the best thing to be in some situations. He had no problem putting these fools in their place, the shotgun was already aimed towards the downed one. He squeezed the trigger once as the recoil kicked  the weapon upwards. Buckshot sprayed towards Perceval, impacting mostly into his lower body. 

It wouldn't kill the vigilante, but it'd hurt very, very badly. Maybe kill him if he didn't get proper medical attention. That wasn't Mason's concern, they had decided to assault a government aligned hero. They were already criminals that were now commiting any even worse crime, only digging themselves a deeper hole. Right as the shotgun rang out Vindicator was knocked off his feet as a shield smacked into him. It shook his head and made his skull ring, dizzying him for a moment. His shotgun went backwards with him, shooting down back end of the alley. 

"You idiot, you're going to wish you didn't do that!" Vindicator exclaimed from his position on the ground. He opened his eyes and his vision stopped twitching, he started to backpedal towards his shotgun, hoping to snag it before the vigilante made another charge.

Galahad took his moment. He was angry, very angry, that Vindicator had the nerve to shoot Perceval. He wanted nothing more than to dismember the sell-out and vandalize the alley with his blood. There was something more important though, Perceval would die if he didn't act now. 

He did a quick about-face and sprinted to Perceval, snatching him by the collar and flinging him onto his shoulder. Perceval made a sound somewhere between a groan and a gasp, and Galahad felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He had ruined this meeting. That being said, Vindicator was not without his blame. He could have killed his partner. Galahad kept running down the street, intending to get away before Vindicator could stand up and draw his gun.

Vindicator pulled himself to his feet, as he did so he watched Galahad sprint away, the wounded Perceval with him. Mason clenched one of his hands into a fist as the rage inside of him subsided. He could have given chase but that who knows where that might have led him, perhaps into a trap where he would be more greatly outnumbered. Hopefully the injury he had given the wannabe vigilante would serve as a reminder to them.

He walked towards his shotgun and picked it off the floor. An inspection of it showed no damage, if they had dented his weapon then he would chase them across the country. Vindicator slid it back into his holster then scooped up the now depleted gas grenade. He would need to speak with his handler, tell him about his encounter with Galahad and his accomplice. The feds would want to know all about it, illegal vigilantism was a serious crime, assaulting a legal one was even worse. He'd get his payback.

His attackers disappeared, the footsteps fading into silence as Vindicator walked out of the alleyyway, continuing on his former course to his apartment. He needed a drink more than anything right about now.

A few hours had passed. Perceval was laying on a table. Luckily for him, the pellets hadn't sunk very deep. He'd still be out of action for a few weeks. He was out cold, a side effect of the morphine he'd given him. He kept this make-shift hospital in his basement for this exact reason.

Galahad was angry. At Vindicator. At Perceval. Mostly, at himself. He hadn't shot Perceval, but he may as well have. He needed to get his temper under control.

[i]Maybe she was right...[/i] He thought. [i]Maybe I do need a shrink.[/i]