Exhausted, I fall to my knees. It’s over. The adrenaline that flooded my brain and body during the fight is gone, and with it, my motivation to move.

“You idiot!” My brother runs up to me but slows as he eyes the body on the ground. He’s not dead. I didn’t kill him. I didn’t. “What were you thinking?”

I try to shrug, but my shoulders don’t want to work. My body doesn’t want to work. “He had a knife,” I say simply. “He was going to hurt that girl.” I look around, but the girl is gone. Probably took off during the fight. Oh, well. Can’t blame her for that.

“So instead, he hurt you!”

Did he? I can’t focus. Nothing hurts. Everything hurts. He hurt me. I stopped him. I didn’t kill him, though. He’s not dead. “It’s not that bad,” I say finally.

“That’s a knife,” Nate says, pointing. “It’s sticking out of your shoulder.” I look at my right shoulder, and, sure enough, there is a knife, his knife, sticking out of it. Well, the handle, anyway. I don’t see much of the blade.

“Oh!” I say in surprise. I guess he did hurt me. But I stopped him. But he isn’t dead. I glance back at the guy lying in the street behind me. There are a handful of people around. Probably came from the bar. One lady screams. A guy curses. Potty mouth. I can hear sirens in the distance.

“What do we do, Tyler?” my brother asks, on the verge of panic. Maybe I should be panicking too. But I feel very calm. Maybe that’s the alcohol. Or maybe it’s the blood loss. Oh, yeah, I was stabbed. He stabbed me. But I didn’t kill him. “It was self-defense, right?” my brother continues. “Or defense of another person. Is that a thing? Can they arrest you for that?”

I try to lean back on my hands, but my arms won’t hold me. Probably something to do with the knife in my shoulder. Instead, I fall back, and my head hits the curb. That should probably hurt, but it doesn’t.

The buildings around the alley surround us, tower over us. The music from the bar is faint, but I can feel the vibration of the bass in my chest. The stink of cigarettes is heavy in the air. There are more people, more screams, more curses, more sirens. Are they closer now, or further away?

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Nate says. “Or would that make it worse? Would that make us look guilty?”

Guilty of what? All I did was shove that guy. Pushed him away from the girl he was threatening. He’s not dead. I didn’t kill him.

I can see the stars. Unusual, in this city. They’re faint, but then, so is everything else right now. Until flashing lights appear. Those aren’t faint. They’re bright. Too bright.

I wince as a deep, booming voice joins the flashing lights. “What happened here?”

My brother talks, and I catch a few words among his panicked dribble – “knife,” “girl,” “shoulder,” “dead.”

Another man, not the loud one, kneels next to me and touches my shoulder gently. “You’re pretty brave. Or stupid,” he says. “Unfortunately for that guy. Guess he won’t be terrorizing any more women, though.”

I guess not. Wouldn’t want to risk another person like me stopping him. Because he’s not dead. I didn’t kill him.

"Relax Dr. Sic, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Dr. Sic cried out incredulously. "Boss, that's a knife. It's sticking out of your shoulder!"

"Like I said doc, it really isn't a big deal. As you already know, my body hasn't been typical since I was turned into a silhouette. Pain doesn't hit me as hard anymore. Besides, all of this is a simulation anyway."

The silhouette known as Leftover pointed at the small electronic chip on the table and laughed. The pair were deep underground in the royal castle of Prosperity, but the chip was making their environment look like a spacious bar. A band of young kids were playing 80s metal covers, and a crowd was vibing on the floor near the stage.

"I can understand the appeal of a place like this Leftover, but why did you factor in having someone stab you? I figured you would want this to be a relaxing simulation."

"We've declared war on Hugh and his network, so we have to watch our backs, even in fake bars." Leftover replied calmly, pulling the knife out of his shoulder without flinching. "I set this simulation up to have a random patron attack me. Normally I can see it coming and counter, but I must have had too many shots this time."

"I can't believe I agreed to having a drink with you in here." Dr. Sic lamented, taking a swig of his Rum and Coke. "I know we sober up as soon as this simulation ends, but we should be spending time talking about how we are going to turn around our fortunes in this contest."

"Recreation has its place in war doc. Besides, I never said that we couldn't talk strategy. The knife attack sobered me up, so feel free to hit me with your thoughts."

"Very well." Dr. Sic conceded. "Do you remember the incident from roughly a year ago, where a man in an orange helmet attempted to attack a park crowd with a remote that could theoretically melt anything?"

"I do remember hearing that tale. It was Hugh's flunky Jirk that stopped him, right?"

"Precisely." Dr. Sic grinned. "Per CCC's tip, that same antagonist has apparently reformed, and has invited everyone from that day back to the park for a catered meal. This crowd of people, which would likely include Jirk, would be an ideal group to unleash my nightmare toxin on. You do remember testing that toxin out, yes?"

"As if I could forget." Leftover flinched, remembering the mutated version of Hugh he had fought in his own nightmare. "My request is to go easy on the innocents though, as our end game is to be better heroes than Hugh and his pawns. But by all means, unleash whatever you wish on Jirk, or anyone else that may be accompanying him. We do need a win, and this could be your moment doc."

"Thank you sir, I will prepare immediately. Do you have any more requests before I commence this operation?"

"I do." Leftover smiled. "Have a victory shot of whiskey with me. Should be less painful than a knife, yes?"

Angela's blonde hair gleamed in the candlelight and her frightened eyes stared up at Roland.

"That's a knife. It's sticking out of your shoulder," Roland said in confusion.

"Roland, you've got to run," murmured Angela, raising her head with a gasp of pain.

"Why? It's not that bad...or is it?" asked Roland, still bewildered.

"GO! Get away from here before they get you!" cried Angela frantically, "RUN!"

The effort of speaking exhausted her, and she sunk back onto the floor.

"Please," she whispered pleadingly.

Roland stood irresolutely and she spoke again, "They will kill you for hurting me. You must go NOW!"

Roland hesitated and then obeyed. He ran up the stairs, and out of the shabby cellar. He slipped through a dark archway and down a dim alley. He had no idea where he was, but that was not as frightening as the realization that he not only didn't know who Angela was, but he didn't know who he, himself, was! She had called him Roland; was that his name? It stirred no chord in his memory.

The last thing he remembered was standing there, looking at her, saying over and over, "Angela! Angela!" But, if he knew her name that meant that he must know her too! Confusion and a feeling of chaos swept over him. He had many questions he wanted the answer to:

Who was he? Was his name Roland? Or was it something else? Who was the girl? Was her name Angela? Did he know her? If not, how did she know him? Where was he? Had he been here before? How did he get here? Who was after him? Why did they want him? Did he stab 'Angela'? If so, why?

He didn't know the answers, but he knew one thing for sure: He was afraid.

It went just as every other beginning to date night goes:

We get ready (my lovely Henry waits until after I take my solid hour and fifteen minutes to primp, and THEN takes his half hour to forty-five minutes to get ready instead of us both getting ready together... Always), we get in the car before deciding where we want to go to eat, an argument ensues about whether we go to a fast-food joint, an expensive steakhouse where we only order water and salads because that’s all we can afford as just-out-of-college graduates, or if we go to Olde Joes - our normal outing venue. After our argument where we inevitably pick our familiar venue, it takes Henry an extra fifteen minutes to find the *perfect* parking spot. Those fifteen minutes cause a line to form, where we are now stuck waiting at the end of it instead of already having a table my poor feet can rest at since I stupidly picked my flashiest pair of heels instead of comfier shoes.

Eventually we are seated with a beautiful view of the parking lot, paired with our table being surrounded by drunk college students, extremely loud families with tiny children that like to run everywhere, and a couple who decide to make some sort of scene.

You guys. This is EVERY date night we ever have.

Anyways, Henry, who is a gentleman, pulled my seat out so I could sit, and he pushed my chair in. I surveyed the entertainment we had for tonight: an unruly family of five with two toddlers who were already fidgety even though they were sat down at the same time as us and a baby who was still too small to be in one of those child seats, a middle-aged couple who refused to look up at each other, and a student with their food untouched and pushed aside while they stared at their textbook with the familiar expression of confusion I knew too well and was glad to be over with.

Sally, our waiter, came up to our table and gave us her weekly exhausted smile.

“Hey, sugars. Sorry Alanah gave you menus, she’s new. Will you be having the usual?” The usual being Henry ordering a rum and coke while I get the cocktail of the day, and our food choices of a barbecue burger for Henry and a rib rack for myself. We nod, Sally nodded right back, and she reached to take our menus.

”Actually… I think I’m gonna try a new food item this week, Sally” Henry sheepishly muttered as he pulled his menu closer to his body. Sally and I shared a look.

“Henry. Are you sure?” I asked. “You know what happens when you try new things.” Henry rolled his eyes and shot me a look. He then looked back to Sally.

”I’d really like to try something new.” Sally gave a nod, took my menu, and scurried away to prepare our drinks. Henry went back to his phone, and I went back to people-watching.

The toddlers were reaching for silverware as the parents, clearly not prepared for their children in the wild, continually pushed the silverware farther seemingly unreachable into the middle of the table. The student was using their silverware to try and make some sort of diagram, food still untouched. And back at the couple, they were now leaned in towards one another in some sort of heated discussion, seemingly cutting and biting their food for emphasis.

I myself sighed and closed my eyes, exhaustion from the day slowly sending me into a zen state.

CLASH

BANG

SMASH

SHRIEK

I awoke to a catastrophic horror film! The spaghetti-stained toddlers had ripped the entire table cloth from their table in some sort of collusion against their parents, pieces of glass were thrown everywhere from the impact of the fall. I aimed my gaze back at the student, who was just as confused as I am.

Looking back at Henry, he was staring at the couple. I looked back at them, realizing that was where most of the noise was coming from.

“JERRY, YOU DON’T DO ANYTHING FOR ME AND YOU HAVEN’T FOR 20 YEARS”

”DENISE, YOU PICKED THE RESTAURANT TONIGHT. YOU PICKED MY CLOTHES. YOU PICKED OUR CHILDREN’S NAMES AND COLLEGES. I CAN’T DO ANYTHING FOR YOU.”

”YOU PICKED YOUR MISTRESS”

”YOU KNOW THATS DIFFERENT, DENISE. SHE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS”

I was so mesmerized by this argument unfolding, I didn’t notice Denise’s arms.

”WELL, JERRY. JUST LIKE YOU PICKED YOUR MISTRESS, I’M PICKING HOW LARGE YOUR BILL WILL BE TONIGHT!” And with that, her hands now on each corner of her end of the tablecloth, she yanked her side of the tablecloth up with as much force as she could. Before I could see the aftermath, Henry’s body was rammed into mine, sending my chair backwards and my head right into the cement ground.

Once again, I was lost in a sea of darkness, unable to open my eyes but could hear the chaos of the restaurant. Sally was screaming at Alanah to assist her, the parents were yelling at probably their toddlers to come back to their table, and the couple were still arguing. I could hear Henry calling my name, but I couldn’t respond until I felt a large jolt of cold air.

I tried to sit right up but my position in the chair kept me on the ground. Instead, what I saw made me go white.

Sticking out of Henry’s shoulder. Was a knife.

“Eliza, thank god you’re alright!”

“Henry. You… what? What the hell is happening?”

”I have no idea, I’m pretty sure an ambulance is on it’s way. You should lay back down, your chair’s legs broke after I jumped in front of you.”

”Henry.“ Kneeling on top of me, he tried to bend down to kiss me but I put my hand on his non bleeding shoulder. He gave me a quizzical look, looked down at his shoulder, and just stared. It took a minute or two, but we were both mesmerized by this piece of silver protruding from my boyfriend’s body.

“It’s… it’s not that bad,” he said as he shook off the confusion.

“Henry? That’s a knife. Sticking out of your shoulder.“

”Yeah… yeeeeeeah.”

“Are we really gonna sit here and wait for police and ambulances?”

”Eliza. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got some serious debt. I don’t wanna pay for this doctor visit. Do you?” I attempted to nod, but searing pain shot through my entire head. I felt his hand reach out to let me rest my head on it… the hand that wasn’t connected to the bleeding shoulder.

Looking past Henry, all the kitchen staff had come out to subdue the still fighting couple - which had gotten violent and equally matched - and I could see the police and ambulance lights flashing on the wall, as I was still on the ground.

Henry and I looked back at each other once more and smiled, knowing this was a date night we would and could NEVER forget.