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Return to the Jungle - Stories

Post-Session: 12

A look at what happened during and/or after Session 12.

Story - Colors Can Get You Into Trouble

Game Date: 12/4/2004
Location: San Francisco, California

Who: Knight of Saint Michael

The Knight of St. Michael was patrolling the streets of San Francisco. His patrol took him into one of the seedier sections of town. He realized he was being followed as he walked. He walked until he had more room to maneuver and fight and turned to face his pursuers. There were four of them, and they seemed in a mood to do mischief. William suddenly realized that he and these four were the only one on the streets. He regarded his foes and also realized why they were the only ones on the streets. The Knight of St. Michael drew himself up and prepared himself.

"What are you doing here?," asked the Knight. "You seem to have harassed everyone off the streets."

"You a strange sucker," said one of the youths. "Yo mama dern sure dressed you funny, and you probably ugly, too."

"And you out of yo area," piped in another. The Knight realized they were all wearing blue. "You need to get yo Blood behind back to yo own side," growled the first youth.

William had no idea of what the youth was talking about. He hadn't been cut yet.

"You need to quit harassing people walking the streets," said William. "All have a right to walk here."

"Enough of this crap," said the leader. "Blast him!"

The Crips pulled out a variety of weapons that William was absolutely sure were illegal. The Knight of St. Michael pulled his sword, knocked the leader back off his feet while crouching behind his shield. The other Crips fired with little effect. The bashing of their leader shook toughs who weren't exactly trained to begin with. One got lucky and hit the shield. The others missed entirely. The Knight of St. Michael took advantage of the fact that the Crips hadn't spread out to wade in and wreak havoc with his blade. Once again, there was no blood. There were just sprawled bodies emitting various groans of pain and displeasure. The leader and one other got back up. The Knight used flat-of-the-blade techniques to beat, bash, and bludgeon them into submission. He straightened himself, sheathed his blade, and said, "Let that be a lesson to you. Don't harass innocent pedestrians." He continued his patrol.

The Knight reached another undesirable section of town, where he was accosted again, this time by five toughs wearing red. The leader said, "Lookee here. A dumb Crip who didn't stay on his side of the street."

William was confused again. He felt fine, and his performance was flawless. Being a cripple couldn't be further from the truth. Unfortunately, this didn't stop the Blood bravos form swarming him. Once again, the sword came out. Once again, the Knight of St. Michael reverted to his natural being. Once again, no blood was spilt, though there should normally been bloody ruins of corpses.

Come to me, said something inside his head. Your martial style is breaking my commandments.

William stayed in his crouch. He cautiously looked around, expecting to see something, anything, even the Archangel Michael.

The Knight was disappointed in seeing angels. He was not disappointed in seeing several women waving various cooking and baking implements berating him for what he had done. They weren't Welsh. They weren't Saxon. Were they Black? Were they Hispanic? William couldn't tell. Not that he had the time, of course. All his defensive techniques were being used to deflect blows. The police finally arrived to break things up and arrest the Bloods. The sergeant on the scene looked at the Knight and asked, "Are you OK?"

"Oui," said the Knight.

"What?" said the sergeant.

The Knight shook his head vigorously. "Yes, I am all right."

The sergeant had a look of sympathy on his face. "This is a rough and hostile neighborhood. The kids are against you, the parents are against you, it seems the world is against you. It's a hassle every night."

Guillaume was irritated. He was in a major province of a world superpower, and the people weren't pacified. It was like the Welsh and the Saxons all over again. He had to remind himself that the United States was a stable country, and California was a wealthy state.

No justice, no peace. That is why you see what you see.

William knew only one way to sort out what was in his head. He made sure the situation was secure, thanked the sergeant for his assistance, and then turned his face to Notre Dame des Victoires with all due speed.

The situation the Knight had left became temporarily unstable again as the various Bloods and Blood relatives became excited about the ghost horse they had seen. Words were spoken to the effect of everything from UFOs to voodoo to government conspiracies before the sergeant had enough and forcibly put the non-prisoners in their homes and took the prisoners downtown.

The sergeant reached for his Pepto-Bismol when two of his men, including the corporal, verified what the crowd had been babbling about.

William wasn't even thinking about the horse or the little boy that saw it when he hopped off at Notre Dame des Victoires. He strode into the church, went to the front, knelt at a pew, and started to pray. He slowly settled down and began to understand that keeping the fifth Commandment might be more of a priority. He started to understand that unrest is never as far from the surface as one thinks. He realized he still had much to learn about his new home.

Later on, William felt an urge to watch Colors back at Alcatraz. As he saw the movie, he saw himself in Sean Penn and his Uncle Geoffroi in Robert Duvall. He learned about the Crips and the Bloods and why he had been attacked. Such limited vision, thought William. The Bloods only saw the Blue in the Cross of St. Michael quarters of his surcoat. The Crips only saw the red in the Norman quarters of his surcoat. They apparently didn't see the cross or the lions. William ruefully realized that beyond violence and poverty, they didn't see much.

This included justice and peace, making the statement William heard in his head terribly true.

William spent the time before sleep thinking about the injustice in his past, the injustice in his present, and the violence in both. He began to realize what a violent person he was in the past, and how he reverted to that under duress in his present. He resolved to figure all of it out and become a better person. William drifted off to sleep praising God for his wisdom and asking God and St. Michael for guidance.

Eleanor was proud. Young Geoffroi and Jean just looked at each other and shrugged.

Record Last Changed Date: 6/24/2007

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