Kingsman: The Golden Circle

by Tim Waggoner

  “Any last words?”

  * * *

  Poppy monitored the feeds from the compound’s security cameras at her computer. There were two windows open on the screen, one for each of the agents—the young one and the older one—and she kept moving her gaze back and forth between them, telling herself that it was going to be okay, that she was going to win. So what if the agents had infiltrated her (supposedly) hidden compound and decimated her private (not worth the money) army? Charlie would handle the younger one (handle, get it?), and Jet would take out the old guy. The president would sign the agreement, and she would get everything she’d ever wanted. She’d be free. Free to go where she wanted, when she wanted. Free to do whatever—or whoever—she pleased. Free to do business her way, without being hampered by narrow-minded politicians with outdated morals. And as her business continued to grow and expand—her power and influence increasing along with it—who could say what lofty heights her career might reach? As lovely as Poppyland was, Poppyworld sounded ever so much more delicious.

  Aren’t you putting the cart before the horse here, Little Soldier?

  Poppy froze. She hadn’t heard that voice—the voice of the man she always thought of as The Colonel—in decades.

  Your father’s right, sweetie. You need to look before you leap. Otherwise, it could be a very long way down.

  This voice belonged to the woman Poppy thought of as The Major.

  I’m sure you think you’ve planned for every contingency, The Colonel said. But you know the old saying: no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy.

  You’re reacting, not acting, The Major said. But we’re not surprised. You’ve always lacked the fortitude that a real leader requires.

  I’m forced to agree with your mother, The Colonel said. Running away from the world and hiding in this godforsaken jungle… working through incompetent intermediaries… Not exactly your finest hour, Little Soldier.

  “Stop calling me that,” Poppy said. “I hate it when you call me that.”

  And not only is the military aspect of your operation sadly lacking, The Major said, but your business plan leaves much to be desired as well.

  Too true, The Colonel agreed. Even if you succeed in getting all drugs legalized, do you really think the world’s leaders will let you go scot-free after what you’ve done? After all the people you murdered just so you can have your way?

  “Immunity from prosecution is part of the agreement,” Poppy said.

  And you believe they’ll honor that? The Major said. They’ll lock you up before you have a chance to do any of the things you dream of.

  We’re extremely disappointed in you, The Colonel said.

  Disappointed, but not surprised, The Major added.

  You’ve never had what it takes.

  Never had the right stuff.

  That’s why we… disciplined you the way we did.

  Wanted to toughen you up. Make you strong.

  But obviously we failed you. And in turn, you’ve failed us.

  We should’ve hit you harder.

  And more often.

  Left deeper scars. That way, you’d never have forgotten the lessons we tried to teach you.

  “Shut up!” Poppy screamed and slammed her fists on her desk.

  She listened, but the voices spoke no more after that.

  She let out a shuddery sigh of relief. She supposed in some ways—many, actually—she had her parents to thank for the person she’d become. Oh, she had some regrets about her relationship with them, of course, but what child couldn’t say that about her parents? Her only real regret was that she hadn’t killed the two of them sooner.

  * * *

  Harry didn’t relish the thought of being torn to pieces by a robotic dog, but he had to admit that—as deaths went—it held a certain novelty. But before the creature could fall upon him, something else did. Quite literally. A man threw himself atop Harry.

  “Stay down!” he said. “It won’t attack me.”

  The dog stepped closer and stretched its head toward Harry’s rescuer. The creature’s optical scanner lit up red and words scrolled across the screen. SNIFFING… IDENTIFYING… ELTON JOHN. The dog’s scanner turned green, and it backed off, sat down on its metal haunches, and began wagging its tail.

  Only then did the last two words that had appeared on the animal’s scanner register with Harry.

  Elton John?

  As the man helped Harry to his feet, he saw that, yes, he was none other than Sir Elton John. After his memory had returned, Harry had done his best to catch up on important world events that had taken place since Valentine shot him. He recalled reading that Elton John had gone missing around V-Day. No one seemed to be quite clear on exactly when he’d disappeared, but the general consensus was that Elton had been recruited by Valentine—like so many other rich, famous, and well-connected people—and had died when the implants in the necks of Valentine’s followers exploded. Evidently, Poppy had added kidnapper to her criminal résumé. Harry was glad to see Elton hadn’t fallen in with Valentine and his gang of genocidal one-percenters, though. He’d always rather liked the man’s music.

  “Thank you,” Harry said.

  “It’s fine,” Elton said. “Any enemy of that woman’s is a friend of mine. Just get me out of here.”

  “You have my word,” Harry said. “But first…”

  Harry quickly explained to Elton what he had in mind, and Elton agreed. Elton stepped in front of Harry to shield him from the dog, and together they slowly made their way to the closest ball return. The dog watched them, head moving to track their progress. The creature continued sitting, but Harry noted that its tail was no longer wagging.

  There were three balls in the return, and when he and Elton reached it, Harry picked up two. Then, with Elton still leading the way, they walked slowly toward the dog. Its optical scanner remained green, but it tilted its head to the side, as if trying to work out precisely what was happening.

  When they were close enough, Elton stepped aside. The dog saw Harry, and its optical scanner turned red. The beast lunged at him, but before it could bite him, Harry jammed one of the balls into its mouth as hard as he could. As the creature struggled to spit the ball out, he brought the other crashing down on its head. He then swung the ball upward, smashing it into the creature’s lower jaw.

  Harry and Elton stepped back. The dog’s head was misshapen now: dented, jaws askew, optical scanner cracked. Its left ear was missing, and electricity sparked out of the circular opening. The optical sensor might have been damaged, but when Harry concealed himself behind Elton, it turned green once more. The dog didn’t sit down this time, and it definitely didn’t wag its tail. Given the damage to its mouth, it could no longer hold onto the bowling ball, which fell, hit the floor, and rolled away. Harry had no idea how intelligent the thing was, but it was smart enough to know he was still somewhere close by. The dog swiveled its head back and forth, as if it were an actual canine trying to catch a scent.

  Elton did his best to keep himself between Harry and the dog, but it wasn’t easy. Sometimes the dog would step into a position where it could sense Harry. Elton would jump in front of Harry just as the dog’s scanner turned crimson, and it would quickly return to green. Their situation had become a deadly kind of dance, one that Harry knew they couldn’t keep up much longer.

  As Elton jumped and scurried about, Harry tried to gauge how severely the dog had been damaged. It was still functional, and its jaws—while no longer properly aligned—still looked as if they’d have no trouble tearing through flesh and muscle. But the dog listed a bit to the right when it walked, and the light from its optical scanner kept flickering. The robo-dog might have been an artificially created predator, but Harry was human, and his species were the greatest predators the world had ever seen. What other creatures were capable of killing off their entire kind as well as the planet they lived on? And as a predator, Harry understood one of the most important rules about hunting: alw
ays attack your prey’s weak spot. He waited until the dog was in position for what he had in mind, and then he stepped out from behind Elton and hurled one of the bowling balls at the dog, aiming for the spot where its ear was missing. There was already damage there, and Harry hoped another good blow would finish off the damn thing. The ball struck the dog’s head with a loud clang, sending forth a fresh shower of sparks. The dog took a step back and shook its head, sending sparks flying everywhere, but it didn’t go down.

  “Fuck you, Poppy!” Elton shouted. “Fuck you!”

  Poppy’s voice came over the bowling alley’s sound system.

  “You’re breaking my heart. Jet, kill Elton! Kill them both!”

  Harry understood what was happening. He’d taken note of the security cameras in here, as well as those in the diner. Poppy had her eyes on every part of her dominion, and when she realized that Harry had been using Elton’s invulnerability to the robot dog against it, she’d revoked the privilege.

  The dog’s flickering optical scanner turned red, and the beast—listing rightward—charged them. Harry and Elton each grabbed a ball from the return, and the two men stood their ground. When Jet was almost upon them, they brought their bowling balls down on the creature, striking it over and over. The balls hit like pile drivers, and Jet’s metal skull split open like an egg. The dog went down and stayed down. The two men stepped back, and what Harry saw inside the creature’s head—attached to wires and various electronic bits—made his gut twist with nausea. It was a living brain, or at least part of one. A dog’s brain, no doubt.

  You poor creature, Harry thought. He had a quick flash of pointing a pistol at Mr Pickle in Arthur’s office, but he banished it from his mind. This wasn’t some mindfuck of a test to prove his worth to a stodgy old spymaster, and he wouldn’t be killing this dog any more than he had killed Mr Pickle. This was a mercy.

  Without hesitation, Harry raised the ball and brought it down on the robo-dog’s head. Once, twice, a third time. More sparks flew, and the dog’s limbs flailed as its system crashed, and then it slumped to the ground and lay still.

  Harry lowered the blood-smeared ball and gulped air.

  Elton looked at the red, wet ruin that had been the robo-dog’s brain, and whispered, “Holy shit.”

  The men put their gore-slick balls back in the return, and then Harry turned to Elton.

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” Elton said. “Now, go save the world.”

  “If I save the world, can I have a ticket to your next concert?” Harry asked.

  “Darling, if you save the world, you can have a backstage pass.” He blew Harry an air kiss.

  There was a large hole in the bowling alley wall, and Elton ran for it, plunging through and out into the jungle. Harry ran toward the bowling alley’s entrance, but before he could reach it, he heard Poppy’s voice once more.

  “Bennie! He killed Jet! Get him!”

  Harry groaned. There were two of the damn things?

  He burst out onto the street in time to see Bennie come hurtling out of the diner toward him. He also saw Eggsy fighting Charlie not far from the diner, and it looked like Eggsy was getting the worst of it. He wanted to go to Eggsy’s aid, but he knew there was no way he could reach Eggsy before Bennie got him, so he turned around and headed for the closest building, the one next to the bowling alley, an establishment called Poppy’s Salon.

  Seems safe enough, Harry thought, and dashed inside, the robo-dog close behind.

  Chapter Twelve

  For once, Eggsy’s mind was blank. Fan-fucking-tastic, he thought. Here I am, about to go to my grave, and instead of making a witty remark or a profound statement about the true meaning of life, I’m staring at Charlie with my mouth hanging open like a git. He was about to tell Charlie to just get on with it and kill him, when his watch beeped. Eggsy looked at the device’s face and saw a readout displaying the words CIRCUITS INTEGRATED. Now he knew exactly what to say. He looked up at Charlie and smiled.

  “Here’s my last words, arsehole: Merlin says hi.”

  Charlie sneered and… did nothing. He didn’t bring the ball down on Eggsy’s head. He continued holding it up, the ball spinning madly. Charlie’s brow furrowed in concentration and he gritted his teeth, as if he were putting forth extreme effort, straining every muscle, but without any result.

  Eggsy stood and brushed dirt off the front of his suit.

  “Like my new watch? Merlin made it especially for me. Or rather, for you.”

  Charlie’s eyes widened, first in surprise, then in horror as he understood what was happening. Eggsy tapped a touchpad on the watch face, and Charlie’s arm brought the spinning bowling ball down and slammed it into his crotch. His face contorted in agony and he doubled over, tears of pain streaming from his eyes.

  Eggsy tapped his watch, and Charlie dropped the bowling ball. His metallic fingers curled into a fist and smashed into his very non-metallic nose. Blood spurted, Charlie cried out in pain, and Eggsy tapped the touchpad once more. Charlie’s arm pulled the fist back, paused, and then pistoned forward again, this time striking him in the mouth. There was more blood, accompanied by the sound of teeth breaking. Eggsy made the fist hit Charlie again. And again.

  “Why’re you hitting yourself, Charlie?” Eggsy said. “Why would you do that? Right in the eye? That’s mental!”

  Eggsy forced Charlie to hit himself a few more times, and then he made the arm freeze in place.

  “Lucky for you, one of us understands what it means to be a gentleman,” Eggsy said. “Let’s make this fair.”

  He tapped the watch’s touchpad once more, and Charlie’s robotic hand shot up toward a tree. It grabbed hold of a branch, and Eggsy caused the cable to retract, lifting Charlie off the ground. He flew toward his hand, and when he reconnected with it, he hung from the branch, unable to free himself. Eggsy let him hang there for a moment, then he tapped his watch a final time. The arm detached from Charlie’s shoulder, and he fell a dozen feet to the ground.

  Charlie rose to his feet. “How’s that fair?” he said through bloody, swollen lips.

  “Like this.” Eggsy put his right hand behind his back, stepped forward, and with his left hand cracked Charlie across the jaw.

  * * *

  Harry ran into the salon. It had the usual trappings for its type of establishment, except for a large metallic structure next to one of the salon chairs that looked like a fountain of running liquid gold, with a thin hose attached to it terminating in what appeared to be a needle. A tattoo needle, he realized. Obviously, this contraption was the origin of the gold body implants found on Poppy’s people.

  Too bad Merlin couldn’t have seen these machines, Harry thought. He’d have found them fascinating.

  Bennie crashed into the salon and headed straight for Harry, its optical scanner blazing red. Harry ran to the counter behind the salon chairs and began grabbing whatever products he could get hold of—hair gel, mousse, nail polish, acrylic nail powder (assorted colors), shampoo, conditioner, facial cleanser—and yanked off their lids before hurling the contents at the dog. Or more specifically, at its optical scanner. Within seconds, a mass of thick goo covered the scanner, and Bennie stopped chasing Harry. It turned its head right and left, as if trying to locate him, and then it sat down and tried to scrape the viscous mess off its scanner with a rear leg, looking for all the world like a real dog scratching an itch. But all it succeeded in doing was smearing the goo around.

  “Can’t get me if you can’t see me!” Harry said.

  While the dog was occupied, Harry ran to one of the hairdryer stations and tore a dryer hood from the wall. He returned to Bennie and smashed the hood down on its head. He and Elton had stopped Jet by destroying its brain, and he intended to do the same to this creature. Unfortunately, a dryer hood wasn’t as effective a tool for the job as a pair of bowling balls. Harry bludgeoned Bennie again and again, but aside from a few scuff marks on the metal, he didn’t seem to be doing any real damag
e to the creature. Frustrated, he hit Bennie with all the strength he could muster, and the creature slid backwards several feet.

  Unfortunately, the last blow had knocked most of the gooey mess off the dog’s optical scanner.

  “No!” Harry said. “No! No!”

  The instant Bennie’s scanner was clear, the dog bounded toward Harry, jaws stretched wide, razor-sharp teeth glinting in the salon’s bright lights. Harry lifted a table to use as a shield, but the beast quickly tore it apart. A scented candle burned on the counter—Poppy likely used it to create a relaxing ambiance, he guessed—and he took hold of it, grabbed a nearby aerosol can, and turned toward Bennie. He used the candle flame and the aerosol to create a makeshift blowtorch, but the flame had no effect on the creature. Harry threw the candle and aerosol can at the dog, and backed away, unable to think of anything more he could do to stop the beast… until he bumped into the chair next to the gold fountain. He fell into the chair, and as Bennie rushed toward him, he reached up, grabbed hold of the fountain, and yanked it forward.

  Molten gold poured all over the robo-dog, slowing—but not halting—its advance. It continued struggling to get to Harry, its entire body juddering with the effort. There was a hairdressing sink close by, and Harry ran to it, turned on the water, grabbed the shower hose, and aimed it at Bennie. The cold water began cooling the gold immediately, causing it to harden around the dog. Its movements slowed even further, and then it ground to a halt, motionless.

  Who says you can’t teach a gold dog new tricks? he thought.

  Harry tossed the shower hose back into the sink and leaned against it, taking advantage of the moment to finally catch his breath.

  * * *

  Eggsy continued holding his right arm behind his back while he fought Charlie. Charlie got in a couple of good licks, but he’d had nowhere near the amount of experience in hand-to-hand combat that Eggsy had by this point. Charlie attempted to strike Eggsy with a martial arts kick, but Eggsy easily avoided the blow. He stomped down hard on Charlie’s outstretched leg and felt as much as heard the bone snap. Charlie howled in pain and fell. Almost immediately, he pushed himself up and hopped on his good leg. Despite himself, Eggsy was rather impressed by the bastard’s tenacity. Charlie swung a wild punch at Eggsy, and Eggsy stepped forward, hooked his arm around Charlie’s, and flipped him onto the ground. He quickly crouched down and put Charlie in a one-armed chokehold, still keeping his other arm around his back.