Title: Dead Chivalry
Author: trinchardin
Fandom: King Arthur
Pairings: Various
Category: AU/Action
Rating: R
Summary: A 21st-century spin on the characters and a reversal of sides.
Disclaimer: The myth owns itself, Touchstone Pictures owns the movie.
Prologue
Galahad entered the club with the swagger of the young. Ignoring the drop in degrees that greeted his entrance, he took a seat and ordered a drink. As he necked his nervous date, he felt some people join them. He let them wait and when he did look up, he coolly smiled and and even eyed the one who led them.
"And you'd be?"
"Here to kick you out," was the smooth response.
"Now, that isn't very nice. Where's your manager?"
"I own this place."
"Even better! Your service sucks. Where's my drink?"
It was thrown in his face. Blinking, he tasted it.
"...If you weren't a woman, I'd hit you for that."
"I'd like to see you try, but I'd rather you leave. Now."
She waved an older man forward.
"Merlin, throw the trash out, won't you?"
"Wouldn't that be you, Guin?"
Galahad smirked at the sound of the voice behind him. It carried the weight of the gun aimed at the woman, a move that had been quickly reciprocated by her companions.
"Need a leash for your dog, Gawain?" Was the sharp riposte.
"Hey!" The young man shouted angrily in protest.
"Shut up, Galahad," the newcomer snapped irritably.
"So, how do we do this?" Guin continued coolly, fingering her gun. "My turf, my rules. And you know how I hate trespassers. You Sarmatians should know better than to wander into Woad territory."
"Do you mean what little you have of it?" Gawain snorted.
Eyes flashing, the woman started to speak, but one of her hotbloods beat her to it with a gunshot at that man. He neatly dodged it, ducking forward and dragging his charge down with him. Then, he kicked the table on its side for protection, while those in front of them scattered at the fire from his men.
"Where's your gun?"
"...I forgot it?"
"Bloody wonderful."
Ignoring the shrieking woman with them, Gawain continued to shoot, occassionally reloading. The gunfire combined with the blaring dance music and the shouts of panicked customers. When sirens joined the mix, the man cursed under his breath.
"Fuck."
"Alright, break it up, people," a voice called out from the door.
Kicking at the casings on the ground, the slight-figured man walked calmly into the midst of the dying gunfire.
"I was called in to sort out a...disturbance," the man drawled out in amusement. "Do we have a disturbance?"
He arched an eyebrow at Guin, who'd emerged from behind the bar, gun discarded under the counter.
"Not at all, Detective. Just some over-excited customers." She shot a glare at the group opposite her.
"Indeed? Well, we wouldn't want to waste anyone's time by taking this to the station...would we?"
"Of course not," Gawain gritted out with a tight smile.
The man scratched at one of his odd tatoos with a knuckle. A smirk flickered on his lips for a moment, then he lit up a cigarette and turned to go.
"I thought not."