by Nicol, Andy
Copyright © 2017 Andy Nicol
Published by Iguana Books
720 Bathurst Street, Suite 303
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
M5S 2R4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise (except brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of the author or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll free to 1-800-893-5777.
Publisher: Mary Ann J. Blair
Editor: Jen R. Albert
Front cover design: Andy Nicol
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Nicol, Andy, 1997-, author
Kingdom come / Andy Nicol.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-77180-213-0 (hardcover).–ISBN 978-1-77180-210-9 (softcover).–
ISBN 978-1-77180-211-6 (EPUB).–ISBN 978-1-77180-212-3 (Kindle)
I. Title.
PS8627.I249K55 2017 C813’.6 C2017-900716-5
C2017-900717-3
This is an original print edition of Kingdom Come.
I was going to say something profound, but the time for that has not come yet. Instead, I say “wait for it” to those that rooted for me, and I say “did it anyway” to those that didn’t.
One
“Take me to the repair shop; fix me up, a broken toy. Forget about me now and then; perhaps I’ll be another’s joy.” I hummed through the steam of the warm water.
The water rolled off my back as I climbed out from within the tiled walls. Nearly slipping on the floor as I struggled into my jeans, which were a little tighter than I remembered, I continued to sing, “Play with me when you want, until I fall for another boy.”
My reflection caught my attention as I muttered my song, “You’ll never get to play again…” I shook out my short hair like a dog and gave my most crooked grin, noting the ever-present two white stripes below my right eye.
“I’ll become another’s toy.” I walked into my room and pulled on a sweater, then clipped a dog collar around my neck. My telltale costume, so to speak.
“You’ll never get to play again, because I’ll belong to a different boy.”
I swung open my bedroom door and was immediately (and unfortunately) welcomed by a friend, who was standing there waiting for me.
Okay … I’m using friend loosely here. Dan “Dragon” Stanton wasn’t anyone’s friend; he was a rival, an enemy, a piss-baby strategist, and a cheat. Sure, some people, like Randy and Ronin, liked him, but they weren’t exactly sociable people either. Sadly for me, Lilithia Heights was a small place, and I was pretty well known around the arena and around town. I guess Stanton decided to come bug me before any of the others — Dan hadn’t been getting much action lately.
Mind out of the gutter, my friend. By action, I of course meant battle time. We were warriors, Lilithia’s main attraction. All the towns had warriors, and all the warriors were preparing for the big tournament coming up later in the year. Each town had a different way of running its arenas and gearing up for the big events. Some cities set it up like an elite club, allowing only the most privileged warriors to compete. Others staged brawls in the basements of seedy taverns on the weekends. Others were more open, making us a public spectacle. Lilithia had nearly every waking second of our lives filmed. In Lilithia, it was a reality show, but instead of shrieking at each other while getting our nails done, we fight. If personal drama is slow, then our supervisor, Vince Viktor, sets us up in rotation battles in the arena. There’s a set three per day, and the rest are up to us. Some can get pretty brutal, but it’s never anything personal. Usually.
“Hey Dan-o,” I said as I brushed past the tall, blond man. “What can I do for you?”
I headed towards the cafeteria, attempting to get far enough away from him that I didn’t have to look at him or smell his playboy cologne. He had to jog to keep up.
“It happened again, Benji. I was checking in on you. I thought you got hurt.”
“Me? Please, everyone knows I sleep with a knife under my pillow.”
One more thing: we were kind of being hunted. This had been going on for a while, and no, it wasn’t part of the show.
“A knife under your pillow isn’t… Benji, you sleep heavier than Jeremy does when he’s on Crane’s meds!” Dan scowled and crossed his arms. Well, he wasn’t wrong.
“So what happened? System failure again? Tech crew’s slacking,” I muttered as I shoved open the large white doors leading to the cafeteria. The smell of baked goods and sausages hit me — I really was hungry. A few warriors turned to wave. The rest rolled their eyes. I ignored them and raided the toast and muffin department.
“You are a danger to yourself and others,” Dan continued.
I continued to hum my song while Dan painstakingly explained all the ways I could have fallen victim. I silently mocked his thick Boston accent and made my way down the hall to where my actual friend, Frankie, was lounging, eyes closed. That boy had a habit of falling asleep anywhere. It was a talent I envied.
“Benji, you need to listen to me. This is serious!”
“Danny, do you have anything interesting to tell me? Or are we going to keep playing ‘Damsel in Distress’? As any damsel will tell you, I can handle it myself!” I snapped. I’d been a warrior for over twelve years. I could handle an ambush.
Dan tugged at his scruffy chin, and I hid my annoyance by fixating on a stain under my boot, on the yellowing white tile.
At that moment, as if to prove Dan’s point, the lights went out and an alarm sounded.
Frankie woke, leaping to his feet with a snort, and in the red glow of the emergency flood lights, we all shared a look, worried who the next victim would be.
“Is anyone in the Pit right now?” I asked. My voice betrayed me, coming out like a squeak.
“I think Dolly was in there kicking it up with a Vulture or something,” Dan said, looking at Frankie for confirmation.
“Don’t you ever look at the boards, Dragon? She’s going in with the Mummy,” Frankie answered. “But not for a few hours. I’m not even sure if anyone is training yet.” He scratched at his faux hawk anxiously.
“Then what the hell is going on now?” I bounced on my toes, ready to sprint at the first sign of trouble. Wasn’t about to stand around and get hit myself.
I might’ve played it a bit casual with Dan earlier. The threat was real. Not one of us had any idea who was behind the attacks, but around six warriors had already been seriously hurt, maimed, or taken out of commission. And every attack had been accompanied by technical glitches — dropped lights, system shutdowns, alarms, the works. Some of the victims couldn’t even compete anymore, maybe wouldn’t ever again, not in Lilithia at least. I sure as shit didn’t want that to be me.
After a few tense seconds, Matt, our little tech-nerd, came over the loud speaker, “False alarm! That’s on me. My fault. Sorry, everyone.” I could hear someone start to argue just as he flipped his mic off again. The three of us simultaneously let out a breath and stared at each other, laughing nervously. Things had been tense for a while.
We were all standing there trying to figure out what to say when Chrissy came around the corner, arm in arm with my roommate, Angel. Chrissy had been my closest friend for almost a decade; she was one of the few warriors I knew without a massively overinflated ego, plus she was an ace with the crossbow. When she saw us, she rushed forward, dragging Angel along behind her.
“Oh, Ben, you’re alright! Thank god it was a mistake,” she muttered as our eyes met.
Dan leaned ag
ainst the wall, pretending (poorly) to be composed. “They really have to start getting their act together!” He rubbed at his arm.
I watched Chrissy release her death grip on Angel’s arm and sit down beside Frankie, “I just can’t stop thinking about what happened last week.” She shook her head, blond curls bouncing. “Limbs shouldn’t bend like that!”
None of us were there, but we all heard about what had happened to Static. Charlie “Static” Stinson had been lying in the centre of the empty arena, unconscious but mangled nonetheless. He wasn’t even set for battle; no one knows how he got there.
I shuddered at the thought.
“Don’t worry, it won’t happen to you.” Angel said. Her eyes twinkled with mischief when she spoke. “Not big-time enough. Who would care?”
“Want to say that to my face?!” I swung my fist in her direction, but Frankie pulled me back before I could make contact. She was a grudging friend. We tended to go head-to-head over the dumbest stuff, but I couldn’t stop myself from getting angry at some of the things she said. Angel “Beauty” Lannister knew exactly how to set me off.
“No fighting!” Frankie said, gripping my shoulders. “We can’t afford to fight each other right now. We don’t have any clue who’s doing this, but Viktor tried to tell us he’s investigating. And he’s been trying to hide it from the civilians, so it’s obviously not supposed to be happening. I — I’m afraid we’re going to have to deal with this person ourselves…”
Managing to cool down just a little bit, I brushed his hands away and crossed my arms.
“Relax, she’s right,” Chrissy said. “You’ll be fine.”
“You hear who got taken out yesterday?” Frankie said. All eyes shot to his direction.
“What?! No, who?” Chrissy whimpered.
“Roberts. The poor kid didn’t have a chance.”
Dan laughed harshly. Frankie was young and not very bright, but he was observant. Frankie somehow knew every news story half an hour before the media did.
“Yeah, in the locker room after practice.” Frankie shook his head. “They seem to be targeting the Valiants mostly, though some Volatiles have gone down too.”
Valiants, Volatiles, and Vultures — that was how Lilithia classed its warriors. It relied heavily on how we did battle, our strategy and all that. I was a Volatile if you couldn’t tell.
“Viktor doesn’t like us talking about this,” I said.
“Hey, since when are you one to follow the rules?” Dan asked.
“Since I don’t want to be next!” I growled back. Dan and I had been partnered up for a while, but we didn’t get along. Neither of us were methodical. My emotions got the better of me more often than I would like to admit, and Dan was just plain reckless, sometimes stupid.
Chrissy’s blue eyes were wide with worry, and her hands shook a little bit. Leaning over with her curly hair in her eyes, she sighed. I didn’t know what to do — clearly, none of us did. Even Angel bit her perfectly manicured nails and closed her trap. All I could do was sit myself beside my friend and put my hand on her shoulder.
“Everything’s going to be alright.”
It wasn’t. Little did we know, that was only the beginning.
About a month after Matt’s little mix-up, Chrissy was attacked. She wasn’t injured too badly, not compared to everyone else, but she was left with a concussion. She had to leave the dorms for a while to stay with her sister. It was hard to focus on my own training, knowing that my small list of friends was dwindling. At least this time, it wasn’t my fault. That’s what I was telling myself anyway.
I needed a distraction, so the day Chrissy left, I asked the boss for a match. He set me up against Frankie and Ronin. Oh, sorry, make that Scene Fest and Wolf Man. (As boss man Viktor always said, “Stage names on stage, kids!” The arrogant blowhard.) I was looking forward to it.
I went to the locker room early to unwind, trying to prep my mind for the battle ahead. The place was brightly lit for the most part. The dull blue lockers that held all our weapons and gear formed three long aisles, which meant I couldn’t quite see the whole place, but at least the drone cams wouldn’t be in here so early. Who could complain?
Call me paranoid, but the girl who stood alone in the room, feeling like she was being watched, could.
Instinctively, I grabbed my short dagger from my locker and peeked around the corner, checking the other two aisles. There wasn’t anyone there. I wearily went back to changing and stuffed my clothes into the little blue locker. My armour, like most of the other warriors’, consisted of two metal-plated shoulder pads and the fancy sheaths for my old-fashioned duel swords.
My armour was pretty skimpy, but then a lot of warriors preferred not to wear any at all. Dan had steel gauntlets that ran to his elbows — real fashion forward, that one — and knee pads, but that was it. Armour restricts movement, and a lot of us see it as a cop-out. Warriors that wear too much armour are seen as weaker, unable to take a hit. The knights died out hundreds of years ago, but there’s still a law put in place by the higher-ups — or the council that organizes our tournaments — that we must wear armour for the sake of “preservation.” Not a thing I cared a lot about, personally. Maybe they required it for the same reason they prefer us to have stage names: for show.
My paranoia eventually got the best of me, so I hopped on top of a bench and looked up into the vent, but the grate was stuck tight and it was too dark for me to see inside. Instead, I jimmied Frankie’s locker open and pulled out a heavy flashlight. I knew he had one in there; only god knew why. With my knife resting between my teeth, I hopped on top of the bench, then climbed on top of a locker and ripped the grate free. I shone the light through the dark space, but there was nothing there.
“What’s going on?” A gruff voice came from below.
I jumped, hit my head on the aluminum duct above me, and slipped back to the ground. I had to sit for a minute as I came back to my senses.
“I thought someone was watching me … can’t be too careful around here,” I offered.
People questioned things I said or did a lot. When people spoke of me, my sanity was more often than not the topic of conversation, so I guess I was just used to explaining myself.
The guy standing on the opposite side of the aisle had his back to me, but he was very large and he had a baseball hat pulled down low over his face. I didn’t recognize him, but then again, I don’t tend to notice the new recruits until they’re punching me in the nose.
The man let out a small chuckle, then quietly closed the locker, turned, and walked out, humming a song — the same song that had been stuck in my head for the previous three months. “Take me to the repair shop…”
“Wait!” I called after him. “How do you know…?”
But the guy was gone.
I sat in a daze for a few minutes until footsteps pulled me out of my trance enough that I could mumble a “hey” to whoever had just entered. It was Dan. Of course, I’d been paired with Dragon again. I suppose the fact we didn’t get along just made us all the more entertaining — Viktor did like to set up for maximum drama.
He offered a snort but ignored me and changed into his gear.
“Do you have any idea where my jacket is? It isn’t in my locker,” he said.
I shrugged my shoulders and pushed myself off the bench. “No clue, man.”
This battle was pretty much the same as every other against Scene Fest and Wolf Man, except Frankie managed to stay upright a little longer than usual. Me and Dragon met outside the gate of the Pit — Lilithia’s own grand arena — as our opponents showed off for the cameras, one waving his arms and grinning while the other rolled his shoulders and his eyes. We walked in with ready weapons; granted, they were dulled since we weren’t actually supposed to kill each other. Or so they say.
Across the dirt, on the other side of the arena, Frankie grinned and juggled his daggers.
“Give up, K9!” he teased. “Run now! With your tail between you
r legs!”
“In your dreams, Scene Fest!” I growled, baring my crooked teeth.
Dan and I had argued over how we should take them down, but eventually we both rushed them. Frankie sidestepped me but fell into a puddle of blood from the previous matchup. He wasn’t too pleased and ended up squealing and hollering so loud I couldn’t keep myself from laughing manically at his misfortune.
He continued to cry out. I doubled over, still laughing, until Dan yanked me back up.
“Hell! K9, focus!” he snapped.
I shrugged gleefully and slashed at Frankie viciously. He rolled out of the way, as I expected he would. Then he came toward me quick and swiped at me with his daggers, but I easily swatted him away with my sword. I was just about to take a run at him again when the lights cut out. I stepped away from our opponents, tripping over myself in a panic; everyone knows bad things happen around here when the lights go out.
I heard Viktor’s voice over the speaker, “Matt! What in Apollo’s name is going on?”
“I … I don’t know, sir!”
“Well, fix it!”
I looked through the dark as best I could. Exit stage left. I tried to make my way to the gate when I felt someone in front of me. A second later, my nose started stinging. Someone had punched me square in the face, leaving me dizzy and concussed. I fell back a bit but managed to stay upright thanks to strong hands on the buckles of my shoulder pads.
“Matt, get the lights on!” Josh hollered over the loudspeaker.
The security alarm cut out, but the connectivity warning was still sounding, meaning there was still someone else in the system. I could see Matt’s computer from where I stood. A symbol of a skull was playing across the screen. The thing looked deformed and thoroughly unsettling, but maybe that was my eyes playing tricks on me. I had just gotten whacked in the face, after all.
Viktor wailed so loud the feedback nearly shattered our eardrums. “Take it back!”
“I can’t!” Matt cried.