A Stand Worth Taking

We Meet Again

"They shot Captain Rhodes!"

For a moment, the world was still as if it were unable to process what had just happened. Hopkins heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing.

But then there was an uproar and a wet splatter on his arm, and Hopkins snapped back to his senses.

"Kill them all! Leave no survivors!"

And that was his cue to get moving. "Sanford," Hopkins hissed. "Help me get this damn sack off."

After a string of curses and fumbling, Sanford pulled the bag off of Hopkins' head, revealing the battle in the bailey. Swords clashed, bodies fell, scarlet speckled the snow, and former Captain Rhodes lay still amidst it all.

Exhaling sharply, Hopkins wriggled his hands free from his bonds and went to help Sanford.

"You need to help Rhodes," Hopkins said as he undid the knot around the doctor's wrists. "And if you can't do anything for him, then get out of here."

The rope binds dropped to the ground, and Sanford rubbed his wrists. "Seems you don't know me very well, Hopkins," he said. "When would I ever leave my comrades to die alone?"

Hopkins nodded with a smile and the two went their separate ways. Turner had already been freed and was locked in a showdown with a red-coated soldier. Fists raised and at the ready, Turner dodged the thrusts of his enemy's sword, and when the opportunity arose, landed a swift blow to his opponent's jaw, bringing an end to the confrontation.

Hopkins scooped the dropped sword off the ground, clutching it tightly with resolve.

"What are you doing with that?" Turner asked.

"Rally the men, and stick together," Hopkins said. "I'm going after the Colonel."

Weaving through the raging conflict, Hopkins ran until he was centered with McCoy. He readied his borrowed sword. "Colonel McCoy," Hopkins said. "We meet again."

McCoy whirled around, brows raised at the appearance of Hopkins. His surprise shifted to arrogance with a small scoff. "Indeed we do, Captain Hopkins." The Colonel drew his saber. "This shall be quite the dance."

Hopkins made the first move, charging at the Colonel. Their blades clashed as McCoy moved to parry, the metallic clang of steel ringing through the fort. Blows were exchanged, and traded back and forth. Sword on sword, iron on iron.

Despite the frigid gusts, sweat beaded on Hopkins' forehead, and his sword felt hot and heavy in his hand. The Colonel exerted none of the same exhaustion as Hopkins had and that was unsettling. Hopkins' strength was draining fast, yet this seemed like a leisurely walk for McCoy, who didn't appear to be tiring anytime soon. How long could Hopkins keep this up?

The Colonel swung his blade, aiming for Hopkins' throat. Hopkins leapt backward, only to stumble over his own feet. He fell to the ground. Grimace on his face, Hopkins reached for his sword, but McCoy kicked it away and placed his boot on Hopkins' chest, pinning him down.

"You fought valiantly," McCoy said, "but alas, it was in vain." The Colonel raised his blade above his head. "Send my regards to Captain Rhodes when you see him."

Hopkins averted his gaze and prepared for the worse, but it never came. He opened his eyes to see Fox with a sword in hand. The Colonel dragged a hand across his face, smearing the blood fresh on his cheek.

"Sergeant Fox," McCoy said, gaze dark. "A traitor."

Fox smiled. "Yeah, betrayal is a bad habit of mine."

Hopkins rose off the ground and stood beside Fox. "Just so you know," he said, "this doesn't mean we're on good terms now."

"We can discuss that after we give the Colonel a taste of our blades."