Prologue
(Excerpt from Father Martens "History of the fallen world.")
In the late 1990s corruption was spreading to all levels in what was then called the U.S.A. at a rapid rate. Strangely, no one seemed to realize it was going on. A holocaust of millions of unborn babies had been killed by their own mothers (with the help of 'Doctors' which at that time meant healer), corporations lied to their investors, law makers pressed their evil agenda on the common man using the money the collected in taxes for his betterment and the police took bribes to turned close their eyes to wrong doing.  In the middle of this, a young man of about 16 received a message from God. He (the young man) was to reawaken the honor that had been lost to the hearts of men, and to act as a hedge of protection for his people. He instructed the young man to resurrect the Knights. The Lord gave this, the first of the new knights, wisdom necessary to find and recreate the Code of Knighthood. Filled with holy fire, this young knight began to slowly teach and train other knights. It was not easy for finding a person who has the honor and will of a knight has never been an easy task, it was even harder for this young man who had little funds for his fledgling order. Slowly over about 20 years the knighthood had grown to about 100 trained knights. Together they began a war on evil. Street gangs would be wiped out, drug lords sniped in their own strongholds, abortion doctors would disappear, a woman about to be attacked would see her attackers swept away by masked knights, a lost child would be transported back to its parents by heavily armed men that spoke of a God of love. They were everywhere and nowhere at once.
In the spring of 2023, one of the Knights on the High Council called a general meeting. Every knight was ordered to attend in full uniform. Acting as they had sworn, the knights gathered. All but two. One was a low ranking knight who had been in a car accident; the other was the Council member that had called the meeting, a knight named Knightcommander John Stoat. The Knightcommander had struck a deal with the government, and had sold out his brother knights and their families. Government forces came down on the church where the Council was being held with blinding force. Though surprised, the knights within did not dishonor themselves by panicking; they grimly fought the government forces till there was no one left to fight. All 98 knights died that day taking about 160 Special Ops. troopers with them. Not a single knight was captured, but then again, the government forces had orders to kill all of them.
The knight that had been in the wreck was hospitalized, and woke the day after the attack. He watched as the government weaved a story about how some terrorists had been cornered in a church and had been wiped out rather then surrender. They then pinned every unsolved crime that had been done in the last ten years on the knights. The remaining knight wept bitterly at the news, cursing himself for not having been there to die with his comrades. He vowed to not only rebuild the knights, but to bring down those that had wiped them out.
Over a period of another 20 years the lone knight rebuilt the fallen knighthood, over come great obstacles that had never been breached before, and had swollen the ranks of knights to a little under 200,000. In addition to this he had built an army of Christian soldiers 500,000 strong that he led into battle with the American government. The forces of the Light were outnumbered 3 to 1 and hadnt the weapons that their enemies carried, but in a great battle, with the help of God and his holy empowered knights, he swept the army away and took control of the government. Using the power he had seized, he corrected the wrongs he had fought with all his life. The people feared that he would set himself up as king after this; however, he was a holy man with no wish for personal power. With the evil defeated, he restored the Republic to the way it should have been and retired. His army went back to their homes, and the knights that willing were given the task of helping the police force as an elite combat unit. On a whole, things were better in the country then ever before. They entered what was then known as the Golden Age of Christendom. This age of bliss lasted about 20 years, during this time; America rose to new highs of wealth and strength. The knights guarded their cities with diligence and honor. However, they were not without challenges. Knights had risen to such power that people could be jailed simply on a knights word that a man was guilty, because, after all knights dont lie. Their opponents tried to attack this gross display of power, but upon investigation they found that there had been no cases of knights lying under oath, or for that matter, lying at all. With their plans thwarted, they tried to discredit knights by tricking them into breaking their Knightly vows. They tried to bribe knights, they sent women (or men in the cases of Lady Knights) to seduce them, and even tried to sneak some of their own men into the ranks of knights to commit crimes in the name of the knights, but to no avail. The selection process was so good at weeding out those that werent worthy that they never got far in their plots. It never seemed to dawn on them that the reason they couldnt infiltrate the knights ranks was because the High Council of knighthood had been empowered by God with wisdom to see through their plots, and this same God gave them power to resist their enemies. Over time this utopia of Godly power had two affects, first, it increased the number of Christians, and second, it drew Christians from other parts of the world to them. In fact, within 17 years of the revolution the main number of Christians in the rest of the world were missionaries from the U.S.
No earthly force was strong enough to defeat the U.S. until 2063 when the Great Plague struck. The Great Plague wiped out 70% of the worlds population in a single year. Europe and Asia were the hardest struck. The survivors fled to Americas shores to be welcomed by the good people of the U.S. The refugees brought a terrible gift to their hosts; they brought the Plague with them. The same thing that had happened in the rest of the world was happening in America. People were dieing in the streets, but among the Christians, no one died, for their God preserved them, and from among the people, men and women of great faith came forth and with prayers more powerful then any force made by men they moved among the sick bringing healing. With in three months the Plague was ended, and the great in faith were sent out to bring healing and light to rest of the world. The people were grateful God and his peoplefor one month. The enemies of the faith saw their chance and they seized it. "Of course the Christians didnt die in the Plague!" they said, "And of course they could cure it! They had caused it! They did it to gain power over those that chose to think differently then themselves! Then, they used the cure as way to convert the survivors to their cause!" And as farfetched as this sounds, the people bought it hook, line, and sinker. This began what we call "The Light Purge". All over mobs dragged Christians from their homes and burned them at the stake in town centers. The knights were called up to defend their brothers, but the people saw this show of force simply proof of their guilt and many who hadnt supported such terrible measures helped butcher their countrymen. A war raged for 20 years between Christians and their Jewish allies (the Jews for the most part sided with the Christians for two reasons, first, they knew the Christians had nothing to do with the Plague, and second, they decided to pay the Christians back for helping them in WWII) and the rest of the world. The Knights and their allies fought with bravery and honor, their enemies fought with chemical weapons that left the land poisoned. Slowly they lost battle after battle until they were driven back to their last remaining strong hold, a hollowed out mountain in Colorado code named Mt. Zion. It was here in 2082 that the last Knight High Council was called. The knights decided that they werent doing their jobs. They had been relying on the Christians for strength and protection when they should have been protecting them (It is interesting to note that the knights had been in key roles in every battle in the last 20 years, but they hadnt taken as many loses and so felt that they were failing). The Council ruled that the un-knighted Christians should be evacuated while all the knights that chose to, would stay behind and guard their retreat. They gave the Knights the choice of leaving or staying behind for a battle that they had no chance to win. As expected, every knight volunteered to stay and fight. Therefore the Council chose 12 of the best surviving knights, divided the Christians into 12 groups, and placed one of the knights to act as its head. They sent them out and a week later, Mt. Zion was hit with multiple Nuclear weapons and destroyed. The remaining 12 groups spilt up to avoid the same fate, and thats the last they ever saw of the others. And the world continued for 20 years

Chapter One
 It was morning. Or at least what people called morning; they hadnt seen the sun for so long that no one knew for sure down here in the slums. No one really minded, the darkness could be both a weapon and a cloak of protection for those who knew how to use it, and if you had lived in the slums for any amount time you learned that quickly. The reason for the darkness was the giant city plate above them. After the Light Purge, most of the land was so poisoned that the plates had been constructed so the people could survive. Now almost 70% of North America was covered by steel and concrete plates soaring 50 feet above the earths surface. Of course there were un-poisoned portions left, but every inch of them had been converted into heavily fortified farms to grow food for what was left of humanity. At the end of the war everyone had lived up topside, but over time as the soil became less toxic the government used the space below to dispose of waste and as housing for less desirous members of society, mainly the criminals, the poor, the insane, or anyone that was contrary to the new order. Later it became a haven for anyone that wished to avoid the eye of Government. Thus, in a very few years the only the rich and educated lived topside. Much of the plates surface that had once housed people now became farmland and forests (the environmentalist had survived the Plague and after the wars had pushed for the restoration of woodlands). If you looked at America from the air, it would have looked like nothing had changed, until you realized that you werent looking at the earths surface, you were looking at a skin that was stretched over the ruined continent. The slums referred to anything on the underside of the plates. Everything was built from the wreckage of the old cities and waste from the topside. There were no change of seasons, temperature, or night and day. Every so often there would be a cluster of functioning lights attached to the bottom of a plate that would provide a little light. It was under these lights that small communities lived. The totally dark places were known as The Wilderness, only the craziest or most desperate traveled it those un-lit forsaken places were you may travel for weeks with absolutely no illumination.
 It was in this hellhole of wretchedness that Allen was born and raised, and in this heart breaking society that he woke. Allen looked around him, he was fully awake and his body tense and ready. There was no danger, but those who are not ready at all times were the people that woke up dead. Allen ran his fingers through his long dirty hair and rolled out of the nest of rags he had made for himself the night before. He checked his belt to make sure his knife hadnt been stolen while he slept, it hadnt. He grinned, he was a light sleeper, he had caught more thieves trying to pick pocket him then anyone else he knew. Allen wasnt a large, he was 17, stood about 510, but he was a tightly wadded ball of muscle, for his weight. His muscles werent the product of training; they were mostly the product of running from others bigger then himself and street fighting with other gangs. Yes, other gangs. Allen was part of the gang that ruled this portion of the slums, or more truthfully lived off of the people of this part of the slums. Allan picked up his leather jacket and stepped out of the crumbling building his gang used as a head quarters. Out of the dimness of slums neon lights burned, announcing drinking establishments. Prostitutes walked the street still and the venders at the black-market were setting up their wares. Allen smiled; he lived in one of the nicer areas.
 Allen joined the rest of his gang already walking through the market. Down here the only thing they could trade with those topside was water. The topsiders tried to gather enough water from what fell from rain, but all things up there eventually ended up down here. His gang got a cut of everything in this section. They had their men working the water pumps that shipped water topside, collected taxes from everything sold at the market, and got a cut from everyone else for protection meaning that they would leave you alone if you paidmost of the time. The gang was examining a shipment of weapons that had just been smuggled in, mostly knives and switchblades. Since the Light Purge guns were very easy to get a hold of, but bullets were not. All remaining factories that produced ammo were topside and under strict government control. If you saw people coming after you with guns you knew that one of two things were true, one, that they worked for the government, or two, they worked for some crime lord that was rich enough to live topside. With the rarity of bullets, everyone began using blades to fight with. Another import from topside was gasoline. Cars still existed and were used commonly by gangs and drug lords. Lastly was food. Always-in demand, and never in large enough quantities, people only got it three ways, you bought it, you stole it, or you killed for it. The market was getting full so the gang withdrew into an ally were the shadows were even deeper and watched the crowd. It didnt take long for their leader Guido, to find a mark. The one that he pointed out to the rest of the gang was everything that made one stand out down here. She was young, pretty, alone except for the babe she held close, and carried a largish amount of money. It was clear she had more then your normal person because of the amount food she was gathering to pay for.
Allen shook his head sadly, "Poor thing." He thought sadly, "If she was my girl I would never leave her unattended."
As she walked forward to haggle with the trader the gang broke out of their cover and surrounded her, shoving her back and forth between them. The young womans eyes were wide with fear and she held her child closer. The rest of buyers in the market did their best not to notice any of this, simply glad that they had escaped notice. Allen snatched the womans bag from her and threw it to Guido. Guido caught it and was about to leave when he decided that he wanted to have some fun with the girl. The gang dragged her back into the ally. Allen had hoped that they would let her go after they had taken her money. It was this thinking that Guido always called weakness and had beaten the tar out of Allen for voicing such ideas before. When Allen thought about what would be done to this young woman and her child he couldnt suppress a shutter. Allens mind told him to leave this one alone, it wasnt his fault that some idiot woman had decided to do something stupid. But when he looked at her and saw the fear in her eyes he felt sick. He grabbed the woman and pushed her behind him. The whole gang grew quiet and all eyes where one him.
"What do you think youre doing?" demanded Guido.
Allen mumbled something.
"Whats that fool?" Guido growled drawing himself up to his impressive high (Guido wasnt leader because of his brain).
Drawing a deep breath Allen steeled himself and said, "Weve got the money, let her go."
"I said I wanted to have some fun with her. If you have a problem with that why dont you just run along home!" The other members got a good laugh out of this one. Allen felt positively sick.
"Great!" Allen thought, "So now Im going to end up in almost as bad shape as her." Then another thought gnawed at him, "I could just step back and let him have her, I mean, theirs nothing I can do anyway." But he pushed that thought away; it was to late to step down.
Allens switchblade snapped forth with a loud click.
"Oh look at that, he wants to fight!" Guido laughed.
One of the gang members leapt forward, Allen slashed at him, making him keep his distance. While Allens attention was on his lone attacker, Guido moved in close and grabbed Allens hand. They struggled for a moment, then Guidos bulk won out over Allens smaller form. Guido slammed Allens hand holding the knife into the wall of the ally over and over again until Allens hand went limp and dropped the knife. Guido pulled a switchblade of his own out and held Allen against the wall, the tip of the blade to his throat.

Guido leaned close and grinned, "Well Mr. Hero, it looks like your savor act needs some work." Guido shook his head, "The really sad part of all this is that your noble sacrifice hasnt changed anything, the girl is still here and all youve managed to do is get yourself killed."
Fear swelled in Allens heart as he thought about dieing. He started a prayer, but choked it off. He didnt need him!
A shadow fell across the ally. None of the gang members turned, they were too intent on the kill.
"Excuse me," a soft voice cut across the air, "I think it is in your best interest to let my brother go."
Guido turned, before him stood a man dressed in a long black leather jacket. The man might have been anywhere between the ages of 45 and 60, because he had a weathered face and gray hair, but he wore it long pulled back in a ponytail and moved with the grace of a man much younger then he looked.
"What did you say?" growled Guido.
The man drew near, walking unworried though their ranks, "I said let my brother go."
"He aint no bother of yours!" Guido said, "and this isnt your business old man, now get out before you cant!" the baby in the girls arms began to cry.
The old mans face seemed to transform at the sound of the cry. His hands flew into his jacket and he drew a sword from a sheath hidden underneath. His blade arced through the air and scythed through Guidos wrist. Before a cry could even reach his lips the old man turned and slashed one man across the stomach, and then cut upward through anothers throat. Allen fell to his knees; he was so intent on dieing that when he was released he barely knew what was going on. The rest of the gang snatched up their knives, pipes, chains etc, and charged the man in the black coat. The man avoided the chains and instead of blocking their swings he struck out at the hands holding the weapons. The two men with pipe clubs experienced having a sword find their guts, and ones with only knives lost their hands first and their heads next. Guido slumped against the wall clutching the stump of his hand during all of this and watch fearfully as the swordsman dismembered his gang. The old man struck down the last of his attackers and turned back to Guido.
Guido had turned white and through his clenched teeth said, "Just take your brother and leave me alone. I didnt mean anythingI just" he droned off as the man stared down at him. The mans eyes held him for a moment then moved down to Guidos belt, a moneybag dangled there. The sword moved down and served the belt and snagged the moneybag. He flipped it to the woman in the corner, though his eyes never left Guido.
"Listen," he said quietly, "The road you are on leads only to death, and I pray God will have mercy on your soul."
"----Your God." Guido spat.
The mans eyes flashed and he took Guidos head off his shoulders. The man turned to the young woman, "Lady, you shouldnt walk these streets alone with your child, there are worse then these hidden in the shadows."
The woman seemed to be almost as scared of the man as her once attackers, but she managed to speak in a trembling voice, "My husband is sick, weve hidden him, but we needed food, so I had no choice."
"If you wish, I have friends that maybe able to help him, both of you."
The woman nodded.
Allens mind had been screaming at him to sneak away while the mans attention was on the mother, but something about the man drew him to the man. "Sir," Allen said, the man turned to regard him, "You said I was your brother, Im not, I was the only child of my parents before they died."
A small smile appeared on the mans face, "You are my brother, as truly as if you had been born in the same house."
"But how?"
"Any man who would put his life before the knife to save the weak and helpless is more my brother then any ties of blood. My God be your protector." The man took the womans arm and began to lead her out of the ally.

"Sir!" Allen yelled after him, "II want to follow you." The words came from his heart, but they felt strange coming from his lips, lips that were more inclined to curse then to ask favors.
The man stopped and looked back at him, a strange look in his eyes, "Very well, come."
Chapter 2
Following the womans lead, they wove their way through the maze of rubble and trash. Sometimes over narrow streets, other times they descended into tunnels that twisted off into complete darkness. Eyes peered out of the darkness at them, strange sounds issued from the darkness, and more then once they passed the remains of those unlucky enough to travel alone. Finally they reached a cave of sorts made of collapsed concrete. The strange man preceded them into cave, and called that it was safe before they entered. Inside, on a bed of rags laid a young man. His covers were soaked with sweat that plastered his hair to his head. Mercifully, he seemed to be able to escape his pain in his sleep. The older man knelt beside him and peeled back the covers. The man had a bandage rapped around his ribs. The man looked at the young woman questioningly.
"He tripped a week or so back and cut his side on some scrap metal." She explained.
"It has become infected." Said the man after a moment, "He will die if he stays here. You there," he said looking at Allen, "I am going to carry him, you follow my directions and lead the way back to my camp. By the way what is your name?"
"Allensir." He tacked the sir on the end because the man seemed like the type that needed to be respected.
"My name is Marten, Sir Marten. Allen you need to walk before us and keep a look out. If you see a threat give a shout so I can set him down and deal with it. Understand?"
Allen nodded.
"Allen" the man said thoughtfully as if he was trying it out.
Allen didnt notice, as he walked before Marten and the lady he had a few things on his mind, first to keep them safe and second the man that walked behind him carrying the sick young husband.

Chapter 3
A rival gained
"A Knight!" the thought had sent a shock wave through Allens brain. Knights were the ones reasonable for Great Plague. Yet this one had faced any amount of danger with no regard for his own life. One of the lessons one learned was not to borrow trouble. One of Allens only real friends growing up had been an old thief, he had told Allen once, "Borrowed trouble will be paid back in full and compounded with interest." And Allen had always lived that wayuntil today that is.
"Enough!" he scolded himself; "Ill think about this when I have time, but not right now. Right now I have to try to keep us alive."
Following the knights orders they made their way through the slums and out to the edge of the light. It was here that Allen was in for a shock; there at the outskirts of the slum was a large encampment of maybe 250 people. What impressed Allen more was that they had their own light. Gasoline was next to impossible to get, and yet these people somehow had their own generators.
Allen was so intent on this that he barely noticed a shadow detach itself from a pile of rubble. Even though he almost missed it, Allen had been raised on the streets and acted on instinct. Allen didnt pause, didnt think, he acted. He tackled the shadowed form; the force of his leap knocked him and his attacker to the ground, where a fierce scuffle ensued. The grapple was broken when a pair of strong hands grabbed them and forced them apart.
Martens voice cut through Allens battle rage, "Stop at once you two young fools!"
The attackers foot lashed out and caught Allen under the jaw.
"I said enough!"
Both stopped their fight and finally got a good look at one another. Allens opponent was a young man about Allens age with long black hair and almost black eyes. Even it this dim light Allen could see his Asian bloodlines. The look on the young mans face was a look of surprise and shame.
"Please forgive me Sir. I didnt realize it was you speaking."
"So I imagined. I take it you are on lookout duty?" Marten asked.
"No sir," the boy admitted, " I was merely scouting the area for signs of your return."
"Well it would appear that you have found themor him I might say. I would like you to meet Allen, a young yahoo much like yourself I should imagine."
The young man flushed but said nothing.
"Allen, this is Genji, a student of mine."
Marten returned to where he had set the sick man upon the sound of the fight ahead. He came back carrying the man and leading the woman and her child, and together they entered the camp. As they walked Genji didnt look at him, he walked proudly with his head high, as if Allen was beneath his attention to notice.
The camp was roughly the shape of a square and was ringed around with barbed wire. The barbed wire was carefully laid, for each time they moved it would be rolled up and taken with then to serve again. Floodlights on tripods filled the camp with light and there were even two or three running vehicles. The number depended on how many were running at the time. Parts were easy to find since old cars and trucks sat where they had stopped years earlier, the problem lay in finding the right parts for the vehicle in question. The people they past as they walked startled Allen. They were a different sort of people then he had ever known. They all wore patched clothes, looked somewhat tired, but that was true of most people that lived in the slums, but there was something missing. The despair, and bitterness that filled the faces and hearts of the people were not here. In its place he saw children playing, their faces filled with childish happiness and innocents, mothers chatting fondly to one another, and fathers stopping in their works to exchange a friendly word with friends. Allen felt as if he had come home, though he had never had a home that he remembered. He had his sleeping holes, and his hangouts, but nowhere he felt safe or truly restful. The dwellings were mere tents, and most people cooked over open fires. There were two tents that stood out among the sea of lesser dwellings. They were great tents made of fine cloth. Each seemed big enough to house most of the people in the camp by themselves. One was white with a black cross sewn onto it; the other was a dull brown. As they walked Allen saw several stills along the way.
"Ah," Allen thought, "so thats how they make their fuel."
Nothing was thrown away; it was instead turned into alcohol in the stills then used to burn in the generators.
When they entered the camp, people looked up and upon seeing them dropped everything and crowded around them. The sick man and his family were taken away by a kindly older couple to rest in their tent. The rest asked question after question at the same time, so that Marten was hard pressed to answer them. Allen was a young man of great courage; he told them and would be staying with them if he wished. The people called for the story of what happened, and Sir Marten quickly related what had happened with Allen protecting the young mother. Marten related the story in its barest details, giving only the facts, and saying little of the battle itself. He sent Genji to gather the "Elders" and beckoned Allen to follow him. They headed to the Brown tent.
"Allen." Said Marten at last, "Here is where you will stay if you wish. This is my home."
"Whoa!" was all Allen could say. For Marten drew back the folds of the tent and when they entered Allen was surprised. He had expected some throne with riches piled around. Instead he was shocked that the tent was filled with training equipment. Ropes and weights covered the great room. Mats for fighting covered the floor, and weapons stood in racks. Most of it was set up as a training course; ropes stretched up to the top of the tent and narrow walkways hung in the air. In the corner were a bedroll and a wooden desk.
"So you get all this to yourself?" asked Allen.
"Yes, in a way." Said Sir Marten.
"What do you mean in a way?"
"This is the training hall. Anyone one can come and work out here at anytime they chose."
"Oh," said Allen flushing. The Knight had an un-nerving effect on Allen. No matter what he said it seemed the wrong thing. That and he didnt like how the knight looked at him. Somehow it made him feel guilty as if but looking at him he would somehow guess the sins that he had done.
Within a few minutes the Elders began to arrive. There were only five. The first was large man, standing six and a half feet tall. He had a wide girth to match, but his arms and shoulders gave witness to the fact that he had, and still was, a man of great strength, even though he could stand to lose a few pounds. He had a good-natured face that openly showed his thoughts. The next man was old and gray. He had a white beard and a wise face. His movements were slow, but not feeble, he seemed to move at that slower rate simply because he had no need to get there any sooner. The rest of the men were younger, though all were over 45 at least. The big man walked over to Allen and slapped him on the back with force that nearly knocked him off his feet.
"So youre the young hero Ive heard tell of." He boomed, "Ha ha ha! Took on a whole gang I hear."
"Yes sir" Allen gasped trying in vain to suck air back into his lungs. It didnt matter anyway, the man wasnt listening anyway. He continued to talk, though Allen lost the thread of what was being said. Allen was saved by the fact that Sir Marten called the meeting to order just as the big man was expecting an answer.
"Brothers," Marten began, "you have heard of todays events?"
There were answering nods.
"I recall that some time ago you brought it to my attention that I was the last living Knight on this fallen earth. You asked me to pick someone to train to join me in my Order. I told you at the time that I had been given a dream concerning the man I would chose, and that I would not act before it had come to pass." Martens deep calm voice paused, "Today the dream has come to pass. I call you here to hear my choice and the choice of God Almighty." Martens gaze turned upon Allen, "I chose this man. Allen, I chose you!"
There was a moment of silence, and then the room was filled by voices all talking at once. Then a roar spilt the air; restoring the room to order.
"Thank you Simon." Said Marten to the large man. "Now, please one at a time."
Simon stood, "Marten, Ill stand by what ever you say. You know that. If you say that boy over there should be the next knight, then I think its a great idea!" Simon grinned and sat down again.
Another man stood, "Sir," he said, "I will stand by your order of course--."
"Of course but." Marten interrupted.
"But," the man continued, "Isnt there any young men here that you might chose from? Ones that we have known all their lives and trust. Is this Allen even a Christian?"
The eyes in the room turned on Allen. Allens mind was I a whirlwind and he said something.
"Allen," the gray bearded man called, "Do you know the Lord?"
This echoed in Allens mind. Yes he knew their God. He was the one who held out hope for the fun of snatching it away again. He was the God that allowed good people to suffer while he rewarded the evil people. He was God that had stood by and let the world be torn asunder. He knew their Lord.
"Yes!" he spat, "I know him, hes the one who leave the protection women and children to punks like me. Hes the one that let my mother died of the water poisoning."
"Son," came the soothing voice of the old man, "he is the provider of his people"
"Provider!" Allens voice raised in anger and bitterness, "What has he provided you with? Because of his provision your religion was nearly wiped off the face of the earth. Because of his care you live hunted lives in the darkness. Hes letting you live so he can destroy you later, his joke on you isnt over yet!" His rant died out. He hadnt meant to say all that. What would offending these people gain him?
"Allen," came the stern voice of the Knight, "You said you would follow me, true?"
Allen swallowed, "Yes sir."
"I follow Christ, and you follow me, therefore you to follow him. Hopefully one day that will change, but for now that will have to do. I pray I walk worthy of the one I follow so you might some day find him yourself."
To the rest of the men there he said, "That goes for you to. What God has decided no man may change!"

The men didnt look satisfied with the answer, but they didnt argue. A few more things were discussed, and then the men slipped out once more.
When they were alone Allen turned to the Knight and said, "You didnt ask me if I wanted to become a knight."
"True." Agreed Sir Marten. He turned and sat down at the desk and started writing in a large book that lay there.
Allen walked over in front of the desk and stood there waiting for an answer. After a moment the Knight looked up again.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Why should I stay here and train to be a knight?"
"Good question." Said the knight looking back at what he had written. "There is only one reason I can think of."
"And that is?"
"God chose you."
"I told you what I think of your God." Allen said puzzled.
"You are free to leave at anytime." Marten reminded him. "But you should know that being a knight is the greatest honor one can posses. Many here would trade their lives for such an honor. However, it is up to you."
Allen paused, what the old man said made sense and after all he didnt have anywhere else to go. On top of that he had meant what he had said about following this man.
"Alright, you got yourself a student."
Allen asked to have a look around the camp, and Marten agreed. As he was leaving, Genji pasted him without a look and swept into the tent. Allen shrugged and continued on his way.

Genji couldnt believe what he had heard, not until he had heard it from Sir Marten himself. He hurried to the training tent and found Marten behind his desk. Genji stood there without speaking until the knight looked up.
"Genji have you noticed that Christians seem to excel at certain sins even more then the unsaved?" he asked without looking up.
Genji didnt answer.
"Take gossip for example." He continued, "It seems there is nothing I can say that in less then five minutes isnt known by the whole camp." He looked up from his writing, "But there are those among the camp responsible enough to check in to things before they believe them. And the answer is yes, Genji. I have chosen Allen to be my squire."
Genjis face flushed with anger. "You chose that dirty street punk! What does he have to offer! He is nothing! He has no honor, how is it he gains such a position?" Genji spat in rage and scorn.
The knights green eyes had dipped back to his writing, but now they shifted back up and flared up at this outcry. Anger coursed through Martens face "I expected better from you!" he said in a low voice. He spoke quietly, but there was steel behind the voice. "What do you know of him that you judge him so harshly? The anger you harbor is the same anger Cain had for Able. By your words you shame yourself! Allen will be the next knight God has himself decreed it. I will stand for no one standing in the way of Gods will. Now return to your house!"
Genji slumped at these words from his teacher. He opened his mouth to speak but Marten interrupted, "Now Genji! There is nothing more to say."
Gengis mouth snapped shut. He drew himself up proudly and left the tent.
Marten sat for a long moment, his work forgotten. He spoke his thoughts a loud, "Yes Genji, I have chosen he over you. You believe it a shame to you. My son, if only you saw what I saw, you should praise God that you were not chosen. All I offer Allen is a life of struggle, pain, and darkness." Marten sat for a long time staring at nothing.

Chapter 4

Allens training started the very next day. He worked all day learning to fight (or fight better as he would term it), read and write, and to curb his less then disciplined speech ("I know you dont want me talk that way, but thats what he is anyway!"). Allen was the talk of the camp. Everyone was eager for a glimpse of him. Allen had never enjoyed such attention. At the end of the week the camp packed up and moved again. After the labor had been done the other young people came over to talk to the "new guy". Allen was fine with that.
"So what is it like where you used to live?" asked a pretty red head.
"Well," said Allen assuming a low voice, "Everyday was an adventure. You woke, ate, and slept by your wits."
"Oh my!" gasped the girl.
"Yeah, but a for a guy like me it wasnt anything to worry about." Said Allen, "Ive got more then one trick up my sleeve. Yeah, but normally the only ones who know it arent able to tell anyone any more."
Several faces in the group looked shocked.
"I know," he continued, "its a shock, a guy like me looks like such a great guy. But its a hard world out there. A man has to do what a man has to do."
And the talk continued like that. Allen boasted and made up stories of adventures for his eager audience. None of them had ever been out of the camp, or if they had it had been long before they could remember it. Everything with in the camp was carefully censored, and related to Church or work. There parents had escaped the dark and troubled world by living here and they didnt want to pollute their children anymore then had too. Therefore, Allens worldliness drew them like flies to honeyor as their fathers and mothers, flies to a dead fish. Two young people didnt catch the lure of Allens wildness. They were Genji and his sister Kei. They kept to themselves and tried to ignore Allen and his followers. Genji had been the center of attention before this, because not only was he a student of Sir Marten, he was also the only one in camp who leftuntil Allen came along of course. Genji would tell anyone that asked that he didnt care if people paid attention to him or not, but no one asked. Kei didnt join group around Allen, not because she felt the need to keep her brother company, it was because he was the sort of boy that she despised. He was boastful, flirtatious, and a hot head. So instead of joining her friends she stayed with her brother talking in low voices.
"Youd think theyd never seen a boy before." Kei observed.
"Idiots!" Genji fumed, "How easily he impresses them with his heroic tales."
"Dont worry Genji. Its just because hes new. They will lose interest." Said Kei.
"I dont care!" Genji finally got to say, "Let them swoon over him! It is beneath me to care!"
"Since when?" asked Kei dryly.
Genji glared at her then turned away. Though he tried to hide it she saw the hurt in his eyes. Kei put her hand on his shoulder, but Genji shook it off and turned to look at her again.
"I sure hope they didnt hang around with me just because I was exciting. If I had known I would have stayed away from them." He laughed, "Look at the bright side, Allen has done me a service anyway, I no longer have to deal with those losers, I am finally alone."
They traveled for several days through the darkness. On the fifth day they reached a new slum and made camp outside the borders. Barbed wire was strung and watches were posted. Everyone over 16 had to stand guard at one point or another, but there were normally a few days in between watch duty. The to great tents were pitched. Genji and Allen were forced to work near each other for much of the day. Allen worked clumsily, for he had never pitched a tent or set up defensive positions before, and Genji was sharp to correct anything that he did wrong or too slowly.
Once Allen dropped a line that led to the training tents collapse, Genji railed at him, the stopped and said loudly, "Forgive me, I had forgotten youve never done any real work before. I should have one of the children show you how its done."
Allen had started forward angrily, but was caught by the rope he had dropped and was dragged from his feet. By the time he regained his footing, Genji was gone, but his laughter still echoed in Allens mind.

Training wasnt easy for Allen either. Sir Marten was a tough teacher. He told Allen that the fighting skills he had a massed while living in the slums were sloppy and lacked power. He told Allen that he must relearn everything he knew about fighting. No longer was Allen allowed to fight using anger to fuel his attacks.
"Anger adds to your physical attack power, but out of check it becomes rage which impairs intelligence and judgment, as well as cutting down on speed." He had told Allen. Allen responded that it had gotten him out of more then a few tight spots.
"Very well, we will have a short sparring match to prove my point." Conceded Marten.
Allen walked over to where the sparring gloves were held, but Marten told him to stop. He was only to wrap his hands for this one. Marten removed his long coat and walked into the middle of the ring. "Genji." He called, "I want you to fight Allen for a short while. He wishes to show the power of rage over intellect. Put on the heavy gloves and foot padding."
Allen smiled. There was no way that Genji could beat him wearing the gloves and pads. It would weigh him down and take his power down too far to be much trouble. He would finally put Genji in his place. Marten bent close to Genji and whispered something.
"You ready?" Allen called.
"Yeah."
"Hey Genji, remember what you said the other day?" Allen said as he stepped into the ring.
"Its still true today." Genji sneered.
"Ill make you eat those words." Allen shouted and lunged at Genji.
Allens fist hit only air because Genji wasnt there. Genji dropped his hands and motioned for Allen to try again.
"Try again. I guess out there on those danger filled streets attackers stayed put like good little boys and let you hit them." Genji sneered again.
"Thats it punk!"
Allen attacked with everything he was worth. Punches and kicks flew, but Genji either sidestepped them or blocked them easily. Every once in a while, Genji would plant a light jab, which infuriated Allen all the more. This continued for what seemed like hours. Allen was puffing and sweating like mad.
"Quit running away!" he huffed at Genji, "Stand and fight, or are you scared?"
Genji looked at Sir Marten, who shook his head. Genji nodded and sidestepped another attack. Genji kept this up for another twenty minutes, finally Allen held up his hands, and hunched over to catch his breath. Genji nodded, and then kicked Allen in the face. Allen stumbled back in shock. He shot a look at sir Marten, figuring that the knight would stop the fight and reprimand Genji for such a cheap shot. Marten sat there with no expression on his face. Genji struck Allen with an upper cut that sent him reeling. Allen fell back into the ropes. Genji pounded him, and Allen was thankful for the gloves, they kept the Genjis hands from cutting him, but the blows rattled his brain. Then the blows stopped. Allen looked up. Marten stood in front of him. Genji was at the other side of the ring taking off his pads. Rage welled up in Allen and he flung himself at Genji, intent on repaying some of the hurt he had suffered. Genji turned and snapped a kick that laid him out flat. When he woke again, Genji was gone and Marten was back at his desk.
At the sound Marten rose and walked over, "To resume where we left off. Genji and you are pretty well matched. He has more training, but you have more experience. I instructed him not to do anything but taunt you until youre rage had vented. He controlled his feelings, and conserved his energy, so when you foolishly expended all of yours he could attack and defeat you with out hardly trying. Even when your rage reached its height at the end of the match, you moved much to slowly, and Genji knocked you out."
"No rage from now on. Got it." Allen groaned.
"On the other hand Allen. Remember that Genji only acted like he did under my orders. There is no excuse for such disrespect normally."

After that, Marten found a much better student in Allen. He feared that it wasnt because Allen had seen the error of his ways, but because he now wanted to become better then Genji.

Chapter 5

Allen noticed something. Well, he noticed two things. The first of which was that every teen girl in camp seemed to be falling all over themselves to flirt with him. The second, was the fact that there was one girl in camp that avoided him at any cost. Now Allen was of the mind that if it isnt broke dont fix it, but there were several reasons that brought this girl to his mind over and over. There was the fact that she didnt like him. Allen could understand that. There was one in every crowd and after he found out she was Genjis sister it made even more sense. Another reason was the fact that she was often in the Training Tent. She tried to come when he wasnt there, but she was there everyday and it was hard to miss him that often. She seemed to work as an aid of sorts to Sir Marten. She was very much like her brother, she had the prideful tilt to her head, she walked with grace and confidence, yet was completely humble before Marten.
"Makes sense I guess," Allen thought as he worked on the punching bag, "the perfect guy and his perfect sister work for the only perfect Christian." He laughed a loud, "How the heck did a screwball like me get in here?"

Genji was thinking the same thing. Well, not that he and his sister were perfect, just the fact that Allen was a screwball. Genji smiled. It was fun beating the tar out of Allen. Genji was no fool; he saw how hard Allen was training to beat him. Though he would never admit it, Allen was a skillful fighter, not much worse then Genji. It was only his stupidity that kept him from winning. But Genji was training too. He went to the Tent each day to train with Marten, and then returned home to train again by himself. He would have no problems with Allen next time.
One morning Sir Marten told Genji and Allen that they would be coming with him into the slums to buy supplies again. The Christians were not rich, but they made several tradable goods. One was alcohol, though for fuel not for drinking, it was made from whatever spoiled goods they had on hand. Another thing they traded was small technology. As they wandered the underworld they stripped the ruins of whatever useful things where in the rubble. These were then fixed, cleaned, and resold. Can openers, cups, plates, and other things that rarely found their way to the underworld were also part of their wares. It wasnt worth too much, but it enabled them to buy black market food, clothes, or other things they could not find on their own. Both Genji and Allen were to push to hand carts of this type of thing while Marten acted to discourage thieves.

They left the compound and walked into the maze of shanties and rubble. It seemed strange to Allen, everything looked the same as the slum he had been born and raised in, except at the same time everything was different. Back in his home slum he had felt more at ease, the shadows and little corners protected him, now he eyed them knowing that anyone or anything could be only a few feet away at anytime. Genji too must be feeling it, for as he walked he his eyes darted from side to side. Sir Marten walked as he always did; head held high, shoulders squared, and his eyes looking ahead. If Allen hadnt known better he would have said that Marten wasnt ready for an attack even though he was playing guard at the moment. But Marten was employing a different form of readiness then his two students, instead of probing the darkness about him he was employing his ears and his other senses that might sense an attacker before the eyes would. Marten had told Allen that only a fool relies on only one sense.
"So howd you guys get food and stuff before you had me to cart it?" asked Allen.
"Sir Marten pushed the cart and stood guard." Genji answered.
"Ah. So what exactly are we buying?"
"Grain if they have it." Said Genji.
"Enough talk." Martens voice cut in.
They reached the slum center where the venders sold their wares and the rest of the people plied their trades, anything and everything went on here. The center was a roughly circle shaped cleared space under one of the overhead lights. The local gang members walked around keeping an eye on things and enforcing a crude version of a law. The law was pretty much no stealing or ripping people offat least not without giving a cut to the gang leader. In return for this policing the gang took just about what ever it needed, but once more only to a point. If the traders were abused too much they would simply stop selling their goods and kill a good portion of the gangs profits. Food was sold by the gang itself, since it had to be obtained from someone topside or smuggled out of one of the slave farms. The gangs answered to a higher slumlord who was the one that cut the deals for food in the first place. Stopping in the center, Marten approached one of the gang members.
"What?" asked the man through yellow teeth.
"We need food."
"So?" asked the punk, "Whatch gonna give for it?"
"To you?" said Marten, "Nothing. To your boss? Well isnt that for him to know?"
"Just hang for a sec."
The man disappeared into one of the tents pitched around a moment later reappeared with an extremely fat man with a shaved head. The man wore just a pare of pants and a leather vest that could have never made it around his middle.
"I dont think Ive seen you around." Said the fat man holding out his hand.
"I havent been around." Said Marten disregarding the hand.
"Gotcha. So what are ya needing?"
"About 500 pounds of grain." Said Marten.
"Grain? Why d ya need that?" The fat mans eyes narrowed, "You aint trying to steal our business are ya?"
"No we are passing through and need it."
"What ya got to trade?" said the fat man pushing past Marten. "Whats in the barrels?"
"Fuel alcohol." Said Genji.
"Hmmnot bad." Said the man. "You got more?"
"Ill give you two hundred gallons for the grain."
"Ah man, youre trying to kill me here! Five hundred pounds of grain for five hundred gallons! Its only fair!"
Marten and the man haggled for a long time until they reached an agreement on 280 gallons of alcohol and two carts of assorted goods.
The boys dumped their loads and followed Marten as he led the way out. The grain would be delivered to the edge of the slum where the rest of the sale would take place.
In the slums it never was a good idea to look weak, not even for a moment. If weakness were seen, the sulkers, cutthroats, and stalkers would attack like sharks drawn to blood. On the other hand, being to strong and healthy was a problem too. Genji and Marten, and now even Allen, with their healthy well fed bodies and toned muscles stood out like a sore thumb amid the filthy druggies and scum of the market place. To stand out in anyway was deadly. Some one had already marked the three as they walked towards the edge of the market.
Allen flinched. Marten stopped and spun to look at him, "What is it?" he demanded.
"Nothing," said Allen, "I thought I heard something."
"What did it sound like?" Marten pressed.
"Sort of a whirling sound. Like a small motor makes."
Marten went ridged. "Run!" He commanded them.
Out of the shadows a dozen shapes sprang surrounding them. All about the market a cry went up "Street Surgeon!" and with that cry everything erupted into a riot as people fought tooth and nail to get away. The Street Surgeons wore scrubs, gloves, and all the other clothes that marked them as Doctors. However the blood that was splattered down the front of them made them look more like butchers then healers. Street Surgeons made their living by harvesting the organs of others and selling them to the highest bidder. The hospitals topside gained all of their organs and blood from this source, and therefore they were well paid and well equipped for the task. In their hands they held scalps, lances, bone saws and other deadly surgical tools. Rumor had it that they also carried guns with them. Because of their topside contacts they were some of the few that did. But bullets had a habit destroying the body, and the surgeons didn't believe in such things, they believed in taking the body apart piece by piece.
As it turned out, for once they weren't the only healthy people in the crowed. Another young man also fit that description and he knew it. While Marten called to the boys to stay near him, this young man crazily tried to break through and escape. He was felled by two of the surgeons. Allen could hear them talking as their fellows closed on the three.
"Clumsy! If you nicked the heart..."
"Shut up, look you're losing blood over there. Hold that bag still."
"It's not my fault. He's still moving."
Allen shuttered. This wasn't the first time he'd seen the Surgeons, but being caught was one of his darkest nightmares. The sight of the bloody mess that had been a person made him sick. He looked over at Genji and was pleased to see that the young rival was in a near state of shock. He turned and threw up, but he got a hold on himself and his face-hardened. Allen had to give Genji credit for one thing he did have nerve. If they expected the Surgeons to speak or to pause, they were wrong. They came at them all at once from all directions. One came at Allen; in his hand he held a bone saw that and realized that the whirling sound he had heard had come from it.
 Panic filled Allen. To die was something that was always on the mind when you lived bottom-side, but death by having your heart torn from your still living body while evil mockeries of healers hovered over you was too much for Allen. He turned and tried to run but his legs were knocked from under him. He hit the ground hard and felt someone place their foot on his back holding him down. His hands where forced behind him and he felt bands snap shut around his wrists. Allen was down but refused to die like this. He heard Genji cry out in pain and guessed the same thing was happening to the other young man. He struggled with the hands that held him.
 A soothing voice spoke just above his ear, "Now, don't do that. You might injure something and then where would we be? Relax, it will be over in a moment."
 The sound of the saw grew louder and Allen felt it touch his hair on the back of his neck. Allen screamed.
 The weight on his back suddenly lifted. Allen flipped over and looked up. Genji stood over him grappling with the surgeon that had been holding Allen down. There was blood running down Genji's face turning one side of his face into a hideous mask of red. With one hand Genji held the saw inches away from his throat with the other hand he clasped his attacker's neck. They grappled for a moment then Genji pulled his enemy's head close changed his grip. He turned the head one way then snapped back the other way. A thin shriek escaped the Surgeon's lips and he fell lifeless to the ground. Sir Marten held the rest of the Surgeons at bay with is long swordor what was left of them. There were only eight left. He look back briefly and seeing Genji finished with his enemy reached his left hand into his coat and drew a short sword. This he tossed to Genji. Genji cut the bindings that held Allen's wrists and then turned to help Marten. Allen watched him for a moment then he grabbed a metal pipe that happened to be lying near by and joined them. The Surgeons didnt like the way the fight had gone thus far. They decided that the old man, however healthy wasnt worth the risk to trying to harvest him whole.
The head Surgeon yelled to his remaining associates, "Take the old one out!"
In that instant all six drew handguns on Marten.
"Heaven No!" breathed Marten. He hadnt counted on firearms. He leapt at one as the Surgeon leveled his gun. He seized the Surgeons arm and spun him around, throwing him into the path of a bullet aimed at the knight. Marten flung the body aside. Genji dove and rolled across the ground. He came up with his sword thrust up impaling one of the Surgeons as he fired. The shot went into the ground just above Genjis shoulder. Marten jumped and struck a wall and used it to springboard out of the way of another bullet and then as he fell through the air he sliced into the chest of yet another Surgeon.
"So this scum is what all the stories are told about! I am not impressed!" Genji scoffed. He twisted around and knocked into Allen. Both landed in a pile, tangled with each other.
"Get them!" hissed the head Surgeon, "Ill handle old one."
Marten appeared next to the Surgeon. "Handle me?" He grabbed the hand with the gun, "I think not." He passed his blade through the Surgeons middle. He then twisted and flung a pair of throwing stars at the Surgeons closing on the two tangled boys.
Marten looked over to them, "Are you ok?"
Allen did a quick check, "Yeah."
"Genji?"
"I received a cut to my head in the first attack, but its not deep."
"You saved me. I owe you." Said Allen in amazement.
Genjis face drew tight with pride, "It is nothing to me. It was simply another enemy in my way."
Marten nodded, "You fought well. You are still much to confident, but never the less a good job."
Genji grabbed on of the empty carts and began pushing it, "Maybe youd like to tell your fans about this one."