[Doctor Gabriel]

Before long, Saber had successfully backed up traffic almost all the way to Avignon’s airport. The locals and travelers just trying to make it into the city didn’t appreciate his noble quest and had decided to voice their displeasure with a belligerent cacophony of honking.

Don Quixote, being a man out of time and with quite aged ears to begin with, could not bare the deafening blare and was forced to clasp his hands to his ears in a desperate attempt to block out the horrendous noise.

Had Erik been paying attention at the instant, he might have seen the way his servant twitched momentarily and the bolt of madness that shot through his eyes.

“What foul trickery is this…?” Saber muttered his face downcast, his shoulders slumped, and almost his entire being giving off the aura of a victim of deceit and betrayal.

Then the Mad Knight, in a true show of his title, threw his head back and cackled louder and more proudly than he had ever done so since his summoning.

“We’ve been duped, Mi Rey!” Don Quixote announced, jabbering his finger in accusation at the old woman behind the steering wheel, “This is no motorcar! It’s something far, far more senesister!”

The old Spaniard’s eyes were agleam with crazed delusion and an impossibly wide grin threatened to tear the corners of his mouth. Before the knight’s eyes, the vehicle shifted and condensed, twisted and expanded. Fists followed by sinuous arms of pure muscle erupted and stretched forth from the front hubcaps, cloven feet and legs strong enough to kick through stone followed from the back. The entire body slowly lifted itself up, revealing the jaggedly contorted torso of a warrior underneath as the headlights shrunk into fiery, hate filled eyes on what was once a grill, but now had become the unmistakable visage of a raging bull.

“Behold, Erik!” Don Quixote declared, gesturing grandly just above the still very ordinary car, “Our foe’s true form: The Minotaur, bastard son of King Minos and The Cretan Bull!”

Saber extended his hands to his sides and, in a flash of incandescent violet, a battered old shield materialized in his left hand, accompanied by a rusty lance missing its tip in his right. He pointed the decrepit weapon at the Carbeast defiantly, eyes ever crazed like those of a rabid dog.

“But worry not, Master!” Don Quixote bellowed heroically, “For on my honor, I shall slay this wretched beast in your name and save this humble village!”

His oath sworn, Don Quixote let out a mad roar as he drove his pathetic excuse for a lance into the license plate of the Civic. The old woman behind the wheel screamed, threw open the door and hobbled away down the road cursing in French.

Don Quixote let out a victorious cackle and raised his lance to the sky in celebration.

“Another foe slain by the great and honorable Don Quixote de La Mancha! Worry not, Mi Rey! You are safe now!” Saber declared loudly as panicked commuters leapt from their vehicles and fled from the car killing lunatic as the sound of sirens grew in the distance.