With Sieg in the city, it seemed only a matter of time before she ran into Rider. It was only natural, or so Mordred thought. Where one was, the other seemed only a few steps behind. Inseparable, like a man and his shadow, like lovers, or two halves of a perfect whole. It was sickeningly sweet.

So, there was Rider -- that pink paladin, with the huge mouth and the constant grin. And there was Mordred, a few steps behind him, nerf bat in hand. What was the best way to go about this, exactly? A swift hit on the head. A choke hold. Ah, the options unfurled before her like a grand map -- each terrible, each equally fun.

Eventually, Mordred decides on the best route: a swift kick to Rider’s behind.