Life soon returned to normal after the heroics of Belle and Charlie, give or take a few scandals and developments. First of these was the rise of the vigilante group “The Knights of the Last Order” who held their own against the DVG and the Mob. Second of these occurred several years after the incident, when the private school was shut down due to concerns of corruption (now how could that have happened?) which meant the students were all forwarded into the public school, meaning that it finally got the funding it needed and all the students of Pleasantville were finally able to get the education they deserved. Finally, recently another young vigilante had risen up, however he was nameless.
“Will you kindly NOT spread your rubbish all over the dining table!?” Bill growled angrily at his brother.
“Unlike you, I'm trying to better humanity!” Peter snapped back, trying to gather his papers away from his ruthless younger sibling.
“And who do you expect to feed you while you soldier on?! MOVE THIS CRAP NOW.” Bill fumed, trying to serve dinner.
“Will the pair of you shut your traps?! I'm trying to watch television!” Joe yelled at the pair of them.
“Such a healthy environment for a young lady.” They heard Mr. Jones tut-tutting in his yard.
“CAN IT JONES.” The three yelled angrily. Just then, Belle walked in from her gymnastics class.
“Hi everyone! Smells good Uncle Bill! How are you doing today Pa? Hey Daddy!” She kissed all three men in turn. She noticed her fathers papers.
“Are you still working on that?” She inquired.
“Yes, I am still working on it.” Peter sighed in resignation. “I really don't know how to fix it.”
“It's fine Daddy really. It just takes a little practise to get it right.” Belle replied. At sixteen, Belle had a bit more optimism than her father.
“Belle, last time you used the thing you nearly flew head-first into the ground.” Peter pointed out.
“That's because she was showing off.” Joe piped up.
“Yeah Daddy. The Backpack works fine, you don't need to fine-tune anything.” Belle grinned. The Backpack was Peters first attempt at inventing – a jet-pack which ran on carbon dioxide. Unfortunately it wasn't very efficient, only lasting about ten minutes before the user fell victim to gravity.
“I don't know…maybe…” Peter trailed off.
“Well, if you don't want it, can I please keep it?” Belle asked.
“NO!” He uncle and grandfather cried in horror.
“Sure.” Peter replied. “It's in my room.”
“Are you TRYING to get your daughter killed?!” Bill roared furiously as Belle scurried off to claim her prize.
“Are YOU a parent?” Peter fired back.
“I happen to be one!” Joe retorted.
“Yeah, well you're not Belles father, I am!”
“I raised you two!”
“Yeah, and you screwed up one.”
“You stay out of this you brat!”
“Who are you calling the brat, just because you're the oldest-!”
“I thought I raised you two better than bickering!”
“Obviously not from what I can hear.”
“MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS JONES!”
“Hi Mum! Hi Dad!” Charlie burst into the kitchen that evening. “Hi Lizzy, hi Izzy.”
“Where have you been?! It's late and Belle got home from gymnastics hours ago!” Betty fumed at her son.
“I had to take the long way home to avoid trouble.” Charlie lied, trying to escape to his room.
“Charlie, come down here now.” His father commanded gently. Charlie knew he was in trouble.
“Charlie, you KNOW it's dangerous outside. Especially after dark. Hell, it's probably dangerous in here too, the DVG are known for breaking into homes.” Thomas said evenly. Charlie cowered in fear. He was REALLY in trouble!
“You also have to think of your sisters. You're their big brother, you have to set an example.” Betty stirred the casserole she was cooking.
“Yeah Charlie. We're young and impressionable.” Lizzy said.
“Yeah, we're unable to rationalise and make decisions for ourselves.” Izzy added.
Charlie sneaked them a grin. He could always count on his sisters, they worshipped him.
“Therefore, we've decided as punishment you're not going to the Brisvegas Leos Charity Ball.” Thomas scowled at the twins.
“Whose dog is that howling? It doesn't sound like Woof.” Joe asked as the Masters family settled down to a chicken curry.
The masked crusader was sitting atop a building a few days later. His only weapons were a pair of short daggers, which didn't make him feel too safe but it was all he had. He wore a blue shirt, dark blue jeans and a leather duster, with tough combat boots. To conceal his identity, he wore two blue bandannas, one around his face and the other over his head, almost making him look pirate-like. His tip-less gloves were grey and matched his belt, where his small grappling hook and rope sat.
News had been floating around that a particularly wealthy businessman had been visiting Pleasantville, and was staying in the hotel across the street from where the young man sat. He knew that news like that would draw the Mobsters of Misneach, who were experts at kidnap and extortion. They were certainly better than the Death Valley Gang anyway.
A black limo pulled up in the darkness, and the young man watched the businessman get in. Slowly, the limo pulled away, and the young man followed along the rooftops.
Inside the limo, the businessman was about to relax, when he heard a voice.
“You're in a spot of bother.” He heard someone next to him say.
His head nearly snapped it spun around so fast. Next to him was a beautiful young lady.
“How'd you get in here?!” The businessman sputtered.
“I was hiding under the seat. It's a trick seat you see, something my father had installed before his untimely death a few years ago.” The lady smiled. It was a disconcerting smile, but not nearly as bad as the five-foot blade that sat next to her. “I see you've noticed the Lions Claw Blade. It's been in my family for generations. I'm Marion, of the Mobsters of Misneach.”
“I see. I guess you're after my money?” The businessman tried to regain his composure. Mobster Marion tilted her head slightly.
“You're worth a fair bit more dead than alive, so we hear. Quite the insurance policy on your head.” She tittered.
“I don't understand.” The businessman began to sweat. Mobster Marion pulled forward the seat between them. The businessman gasped when he saw what was in the boot.
His wife and two children were bound and gagged. Mobster Marions voice turned cold.
“You give us every dollar you have, or we kill you and your beneficiaries, meaning your insurance and your assets go to your nephew…who we have under our control.” She commanded.
The businessman gulped. He was in BIG trouble.
He was about to protest, when the limo swerved sharply and crashed into a tree.
“What the-” Mobster Marion grabbed the Lions Claw Blade and opened her door. She was instantly kicked in the head by the masked youth.
“Get your family out of here, I'll handle the Mob.” He handed a knife to the businessman, who began to cut the ropes binding his family.
“Ugh…Grrr!” Mobster Marion shook off the kick, and glared at the youth. “YOU!” She spat. “You're the one who's been making the life of my people difficult!”
“You say that like it's a bad thing.” The youth shrugged. He had to act quick when the Lions Claw Blade was swung angrily at him, locking his daggers together to block the attack.
He rolled backwards, letting the Blade slam down on the ground in front of him, barely missing. Mobster Marion swung again, this time the youth was ready and got out of the way with no problems. Thankfully Mobster Marion wasn't particularly fast, so he was able to block or dodge without too much trouble. Unfortunately she was still faster than him, meaning there was no way he could get in a counter-attack while she held the Lions Claw Blade.
“Damn it!” He hissed as she narrowly missed again, so close he could almost feel the blade against his skin.
“You're in over your head sugar.” Mobster Marion pointed the sword at him. “I am the greatest swords-woman in this country, you don't stand a chance against me.”
She lifted the sword again, and swung at the youth, who dodged again. He rolled out of the way of another swing, and felt the cold hardness of a wall against his back.
He was trapped.
Grinning, Mobster Marion stabbed the sword at his head, embedding it in the wall when he ducked. “You're history, sunshine.” She smirked in triumph. “As soon as – OW!”
The youth looked around in shock. Someone had aimed a rock cleanly at the Mobsters head.
“Sir Lionheart!” The youth cried.
“I aim to please.” Replied Sir Lionheart, who had appeared out of no where.
“Why you – OW!” Mobster Marion cried again, this time having been smacked over the head with a pole.
“Sir Dark! How nice of you to join us! Where's everyone else?” Sir Lionheart asked.
“Lady Luck and Sir Hyper should be here soon. Lady Silent is back at the base fixing her brothers armour.” Sir Dark replied, tripping Mobster Marion up.
“So, you're the Knights of the Last Order.” Mobster Marion snarled. “I've heard of you pests.”
“We've heard of you too, we never thought we'd actually see you doing some legwork though.” Sir Dark replied.
“Insolent.” Mobster Marion growled.
The youth grimaced. Mobster Marion was still rubbing her sore head. Then he noticed the Lions Claw Blade was still next to him. He pulled it out of the wall and held it up to the moonlight.
“HEY! Get your hands off it you little – YIKES!” Mobster Marion rolled out of the way as the youth returned the favours she'd been dishing out all night.
“Nice shot!” Sir Lionheart cheered.
“Give her everything you've got!” Sir Dark laughed.
Suddenly, wails erupted and the darkness exploded in red and blue. “The cops!” Mobster Marion cried angrily. She looked towards the youth, but he was gone.
And he'd taken her sword with him.
“We'll probably catch you later!” Sir Lionheart grinned.
“Much later!” Sir Dark laughed. “See ya after your term!”
The two Knights headed off quickly, bumping into Sir Hyper and Lady Luck a few blocks away.
“We missed everything?!” Sir Hyper cried, swinging his crudely made nun-chucks around.
“It wasn't anything much. That stupid idiot in the leather jacket nearly got himself skewered by Marion.” Sir Dark told them as the group headed back to the tip where their base was hidden.
“Is he okay?” Lady Luck asked, concerned.
“He's fine. He really shouldn't try and take them on alone though. He needs a friend.” Sir Lionheart said.
Just outside of Pleasantville was the garbage tip. It was probably the most well-managed of the councils facilities, although it was quite big. Big enough for someone to hide in easily.
The youth had escaped back here after his escape from the Mob. Breathing heavily, he pulled off his mask as he shakingly held his new prize.
Charlie Begly was now the master of the Lions Claw Blade.