Kingdom: The Complete Series (49 page)

Jamie takes it, looks
around at his squad, and then vanishes.

There's a hollow clank
as the grenade hits the ground, and Jamie flickers back into existence beside
the squad, safe.

The flash-bang coughs and
detonates, met with the sound of pained screaming. Someone fires their rifle,
shattering the silence.

Then the squad attack.

They round the corner
at speed, the Trespasser first with his rifle raised to his shoulder. In the
haze, someone scrambles for their gun. Trespasser One blows their shoulder out
their back and they collapse, clutching at the wound. The other men lie on the
ground, unconscious. Some are bleeding from their ears.

The Trespasser raises
his hand and the squad stop behind him. There's one figure standing in the
darkness, head down, wearing a navy blue suit.

As the smoke drifts and
clears like fog on a moor, they see the King smiling, his shoulders starting to
shake with laughter.

Mark and Stacy stand at
Chloe's back, watching: she alerts the police with an anonymous tip and plots
the team's escape route on a digital map, all whilst listening to them through
the numerous phones and speakers.

They flinch as they
hear the flash-bang go off.

Then all is silent.

One gunshot, then silence
again.

“
Paul
King,” says a voice, and they all exchange a look. It's Trespasser One's voice.
“This is a citizen's arrest, for countless crimes including multiple homicide.
Put your hands on your head and get on your knees.”

There is no reply.

Instead, they hear
laughter, followed by screaming and gunshots.

Then silence once more.
Stacy turns and runs for the camp bed.

Chloe looks up at Mark,
terror in her eyes.

“
Go,”
she pleads. “Go.”

Before he can hesitate,
Stacy returns with a bottle of whiskey.

She puts it in Mark's
hand, and he stares at it, feeling the weight.

“
I'll
meet you there,” says Stacy. “Go.”

He nods, and runs for
the hatch.

Episode
3

Scattered
to the Winds

Jamie throws himself
out of harm's way.

The King is a blur,
rocketing forward without warning. Trespasser One puts three rounds into him
before his gun is wrenched from his hands. Unarmed now, his training kicks in –
he gets his elbows up to block the King's strike; but the King isn't just fast.

He's strong.

The King's blow snaps Trespasser
One's arm, and before a scream can leave his lips the King drives a punch into
his stomach that silences him, throwing him through the air until he crashes
into a bare shelf. It crumples under his weight and he falls, limp, to the
floor.

Jamie focuses his mind,
stopping time as he runs for Trespasser One's body. He skids to a halt,
crouching beside him.

“
Hey,
Tony, come on man, get up,” he whispers.

Nothing.

He lets time come back,
whipping his head around as he shakes Trespasser One, trying to get a response.

The rest of the squad
scatter as the King rushes into their ranks. Cathy and Donald flinch back as
the King descends upon them. A blue wall of force blossoms from the air and
pushes the King back before he can strike them. The King looks at it, spite in
his eyes.

Gary is biting his
cheeks, standing over Donald and Cathy with one hand on his head and the other
outstretched, holding the field in place.

The King smiles as he
looks at Gary, and raps his knuckles on the forcefield to test it.  

Cathy sees the
intention in his eyes, and reaches up for Gary's hand.

“
Hold
on, son,” she mumbles. Donald holds on to her other hand, and they stare into
the black, bottomless eyes of the King.

He smiles; then his
fist blurs, and he drives it into the forcefield. Gary cries out as though he
himself had been hit, and falls to his knees. A crack spreads along the
forcefield as though it's glass, and the King steps back and throws another
brutal punch at it.

The field shatters, and
blood spurts from Gary's nose as if he had been struck. He collapses, and the
King rushes forward -

Nothing.

Cathy pulls them away,
out of this universe and into another place, leaving thin air where they stood
before, and a single puddle of blood on the floor.

The King turns and sees
Jamie, crouched over the Trespasser, checking for a pulse.

Jamie looks up, and
sees the King approaching. His stomach flips; he grabs the Trespasser and
focuses, stopping time for them again.

The King is frozen in
mid-stride, staring straight at him. Jamie takes the revolver from his pocket
and points it at the King.

This time, there's no
hesitation. He fires once, twice, the gun bucking in his hands. The cylinder
rotates again, clicking empty.

Jamie takes a breath,
and lets time begin to flow again, holding the King's gaze.

The King flinches and
stops as the bullets crack against his skull and leave the room in silence.

Rubbing his forehead,
he gives Jamie the strangest, good-natured laugh and shakes his head, looking
at him as though he is a misbehaving child.

“
Is
this all?” he asks, and strolls towards Jamie, meandering to link his hands
behind his back. “To think I once had to skirt around you people.”

“
Jamie,”
Chloe's
voice comes in through his ear peice. He holds a poker face, giving away nothing
as the King comes closer.
“Jamie, Mark is on the way, get out of there.”

Jamie can't help but
feel a pang of hope when he hears his friend's name.

“
Ok,”
says Jamie, sighing.

He gives Trespasser
One's body a long, heartfelt stare and pats his shoulder, whispering something
like an apology. Then he stands up, taking a deep breath and sliding the lead
pipe out of his jacket.

He faces the King.

“
What
do you want me to say?” he asks the King, spreading his arms wide.

The King narrows his
eyes. “Ah, I know you. You; you were the man in the rain. You're the one that
beat me, all those months ago.”

“
In
the flesh.”

The King lets him have
a kind smile and points to his weapon. “You know, a lead pipe isn't going to do
much. You'd have been better off with the revolver.”

“
That
didn't do much either.”

“
It
might have.”

“
We'll
see.”

“
Yes
we will,” he says, biting his lip. “Now I only count five of you here tonight.
I think we're short one or two. In particular, a man I was very interested to
speak to...”

“
Is
that so?” asks Jamie, keeping his voice flat and level. He fights to stop the
trembling in his voice.

“
Yes.
Where
is
Mark?”

“
I
don't know.”

“
Not
with you at least, like he used to be. You know, after the whole
almost-apocalypse thing I expected to see him flying around Glasgow with a cape
on. I'm disappointed.”

The King takes a step
forward, smiling.

“
Do
you think he'd come if he knew that I was hurting you?”

That's when the roof
explodes inwards, and a bearded human shape crashes into the ground.

The dust clears and
Mark, one bottle of whiskey sloshing in his stomach, stumbles up out of the
crater, grabbing at the aisles to steady himself. His eyes are out of focus,
and his jaw is slack, setting his face in a permanent out-of-breath grimace; he
looks confused.

Seeing Jamie, he waves,
smiling.

The King looks at
Jamie, then at Mark. “Well, speak of the devil.”

“
Right,”
says Mark, stumbling forward. “Jamie, get everyone out of here.”

Jamie nods, and
vanishes along with Trespasser One's body.

“
You,”
Mark points at the King. “You're coming with me.”

The King laughs. “Well,
what can I say Mark, you caught me.”

He puts his wrists out
as though waiting to be handcuffed.

Mark narrows his eyes
and takes a long, hard look at the King, as if trying to figure out what's wrong.
The King sniffs once, looking up as he thinks.

“
Wait,
I'm smelling... is that whiskey? Eighteen years at least, something oaky -”

“
Ok,
jail time,” says Mark, and grabs the King's arm. He starts to drag him, and
jerks to a stop as though he has dropped anchor. He tugs again, and turns in
confusion.

The King isn't moving.

“
Wait,
what -”

He barely even feels
the King hit him.

Jamie lets time start
again when he's outside, and falls to his knees in the misty rain with
Trespasser One's body in his arms.

“
Come
on Tony, what's the point in all that armour if you just die after one punch,
don't be such a bloody woman.” He looks around in the mist. “Donald? Don where
the -”

Cathy materialises
beside him, Gary hanging over Donald's shoulder with one arm.

“
Ah
shit,” whispers Donald. “Here, Cath, take Gary.”

Cathy takes his weight:
he stumbles onto her like a drunk to his mother, arms wrapped around her neck.

Donald crouches beside
the Trespasser. Jamie lets him flop onto the ground, lifting his mask off his
face to reveal closed eyes and a slack jaw with blood trickling from one side.

“
Don,”
he whispers. “Is there – y'know, is there anything -”

“
Maybe,”
he says, and lays his hands on Tony's body.

Behind them there's an
almighty crash, like thunder peeling across the plains.

“
Is
that Mark?” asks Cathy, ducking with another crash.

“
Yeah.
I think he's pretty wasted.”

“
Good,”
she says.

“
Here
goes,” whispers Donald, and closes his eyes.

The fire starts to flow
from his hands into Trespasser One's body.

Mark pulls himself out
of the broken aisles and rubble, brushing bricks off of himself, cursing as he
trips and stumbles. When he is upright he sees the King hands behind his back
again, tutting and shaking his head.

“
I
remember how afraid I once was of you,” he says. “A man considered unstoppable
by conventional means – but now I hold that same power and do you know what,
Mark?”

Mark leaps for him, and
before his blow lands the King has sidestepped out of the way and driven an
elbow into his spine, slamming him into the ground. Mark writhes, trying to get
up as the King puts his foot on his back with all of his strength, grinding him
into the broken concrete.

“
I
realised,” he says through gritted teeth, “that the power changes nothing. Even
with all this strength, you're still only as powerful as you are
prepared
to be.”

Mark puts all of his
effort into his core, and rolls, grabbing the King's foot before he can retract
it. Holding his ankle close to his chest, Mark twists and wrenches the King to
the ground with him. They scramble for one another, and Mark gets a struggling,
desperate knee into his ribs, sending him reeling back.

Laughing, the King
leaps to his feet, brushing himself down and fixing his hair.

“
Passable,”
he says. “But this is senseless. I'm
trying
to make a point, son.”

Mark puts one hand on
his knee, trying to get his breath back and swallow away the dryness in his
dust-coated throat.

“
Then
make it,” he grunts.

“
Ok,”
says the King, holding up his hands and giving him an innocent, naïve smile.
“We both want the same thing. We've known this since we first met.”

Mark scowls, throwing
his hands up. “You want to control the entire city -”

The King clears his
throat, stopping him. “Actually, I'm thinking the country now. Never had the
powers before, did I?”

“
Whatever,”
sighs Mark. “You think the people need to be controlled. You weren't right
then, and you aren't right now.”

“
On
the contrary,” says the King. “How do you intend to help people, Mark? By
inspiring them? By enforcing someone else's law? You want to control them as
much as I do, you just want to do it whilst maintaining some veneer of
heroism.”

Mark waves him away.
“Oh save me the philosophy lesson, we're not in a bloody comic.”

“
You're
right,” he admits. “We're not. Which is why trying to punch me away is going to
get you nowhere.”

Mark shrugs. “Worth a
try.”

“
Well
let me spare you the effort, Mark. I've tried to kill you, and failed. Now that
we're on a more even footing, I'm sure you can understand the futility of
trying to do the same to me.”

“
I
don't have to kill you to beat you.”

“
What
are you going to do then? What prison could possibly hold me?”

Mark looks at him, then
glances away, frowning.

“
You
could,” says the King, “cover me in weights and throw me into the Marianas
Trench. But I'd climb out eventually. You could bury me miles under the Earth.
But I'd dig out eventually.”

Looking up at him,
Mark's face hardens.

“
Are
you telling me that I
have
to kill you?”

“
That
won't work either.”

“
It
won't, eh?”

“
I've
tried, Mark. Pushed my power to its limits. Insofar as I can tell, I
can't
be killed. Not by force, nor trauma, nor asphyxiation like your good self. It
seems that no matter what you do, living in a world where I exist is just
something you're going to have to get used to.”

“
What
do I have to do,” sighs Mark, leaning against the rubble, “for you to just piss
off and leave Glasgow alone?”

“
Not
a deal I'm looking to make, I'm afraid. I want what's best for the people,
Mark.”

“
You
want a dictatorship -”

“
And
what? You have a better idea? These people – those left here – are filth, Mark.
You know as well as I do, people need to be made to bring out the best in
themselves, lest they spend their lives scurrying about endlessly seeking -” he
spits, “- wealth, and goods, and sex, and temporary escapes from their misery.”