"Yeah, you can file a report," Midnighter says, sarcasm out of the side of a pointed grin. He's leaning forward, all attention on the point of that spear. He'll survive, he's sure. They'll both survive. He'll pick the scenario where they do.

And then he does.

The spear connects just below his shoulder, hooking him in without ripping apart any essential muscles. It's in that moment he launches forward-- his feet were never in any stirrups-- and uses the lance to vault forward, breaking the pointed tip off as he soars forward. In a moment, he's on top of the crusader, riding the other horse.

He forgot to give his companion the reins. Eh. He'll figure it out.