SPOILED, part 18 - The Finale (Patreon)

Nighttime over The Farm. Every light across the expansive property had winked out at once, somehow, and now Kingfisher’s men were fanning across the grounds in search of a supposed saboteur, lest they incur the wrath of their Master. No-one wanted that. 

Except Jones wasn’t picking up on his radio; he was supposed to be on watch at the main gate. And two others had just gone silent too. 

A small cluster of beefy farmhands worked their way across the cornfields, guided only by torchlight, various tools at the ready. 

Suddenly, one farmer dipped below the corn level, unable to utter so much as a cry before being silently dispatched. The others never even noticed. Then another fell, knees buckled, a hand clasped over his mouth and a short, sharp shock sent through his burly body until unconsciousness took hold. By the time the last of them thought to look back to his compatriots, they had all fallen. Then, before there was even time to call out their names, he too knew the electric sting of the taser, eyes rolling backwards, into blackness.

* * * *

‘Detective Sweet, tell me they didn’t get the hood on you!’ Ben spoke across the barn to the opposite pen. ‘I can’t see a damned thing!’

‘I’m alright, lad,’ Sweet called back. ‘Thanking me lucky stars right about now. But what the bloody hell is going on?’

‘I have no idea!’ 

‘We gotta try and get out of here, mate. That big American bastard is off his fuckin’ rocker.’

‘Yeah, no shit!’ Ben replied, impatience getting the better of him. ‘What do you think I’ve been trying to do this whole time?!’

‘Can you - Did they leave anything here we could use?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t see…’ Ben’s eyes were beginning to acclimatise to the darkness, but the process was slow. Only vague shapes were emerging, including the enormity of Detective Sweet in his pen. He saw the older man reach down through the bars to feel for any useful items left behind, but then realised - ‘Sweet, be careful! They’ve left the bucket of tar, I can see its outline. Do NOT go near it!’

Arthur’s hands flew up. ‘Right, understood. Bloody hell. And to think he wanted it on my face, for Christsake! Bloody barmy wanker. Isn’t there anything by you? No keys or nothing? Have a feel around.’

He heard Ben’s chain rattle as the lad roved about his pen. 

‘Ugh! Nothing!’ Ben responded after a time. ‘Fuck! This is -‘

The usual creak heralded the opening of the barn doors.

Ben felt his heart sink all over again. The Master was back already, so soon. There’d been no time to search for a way out, for anything!

No! NO!

He and Detective Sweet were never getting out of this place. He just knew it now. It was inevitable. This Farm was his last stop. And soon they’d both be encased in pig masks. 

Forever.

But when a voice came from the doorway, Ben didn’t recognise it.

‘Jesus bloody Christ, what have they done to you?’

Arthur’s chains erupted into action. ‘Manni? Manni? Is that you?!’

‘You’re the size of a house! What the hell happened? Manni asked in incredulity.

‘Oh fuck, Manni!’ Arthur replied. Ben heard emotion breaking across his voice. ‘Get over here - But mind the bucket on the floor. Don’t go near it!

‘Okay!’

And Ben could now make out Detective Dey as he picked his way carefully across the barn. The brick-shithouse build was unexpected, Ben had to admit, as was the ridiculously chiselled cheekbones under his beard. This guy looked like he belonged in a magazine or something.

Arthur reached out his arms atop the gate of his pen, his magnificent girth squeezing against the metal. He practically clawed at his partner and pulled him in tight, bars between them from the chest down, but Arthur was just able to lean over and embrace Manni, holding his head, then kiss him.

‘Oh,’ said Ben. ‘Ohhhh...’

‘I thought you were -‘ Arthur whispered to his partner, before something caught in his throat. ‘Oh God, I thought I’d lost you…’

Manni kissed him back, stroked Arthur’s unkempt hair, felt the curve of his even fatter, rounder cheek. He shook his head. ‘Long story - I made it out, but… Seriously, Arthur, what happened here? Are you okay? You look… enormous…’

‘I’m fine,’ Arthur said huskily, removing his glasses to wipe one eye. ‘I’ll be alright, but - Manni, this is Ben.’

The powerlifter-built detective practically spun on his axis, eyes suddenly swollen in surprise.

‘Ben? As in Ben Townsend…?’

‘Yeah, maybe we can all shake hands later,’ Ben suggested. ‘But right now, d’you think you can spring us out of this hell hole?’

‘Right, right!’ Manni said, looking around. He started pulling at Sweet’s bars, at the locked gate, but to no avail.

‘How did you get past the guards?’ Arthur asked him.

Manni proceeded to search the wider barn, looking for anything of use. ‘One by one, tased ‘em, dragged ‘em all into some storage shed and bolted it shut. Pretty sure I got all of ‘em in there.’ He tapped the oblong shape in his back pocket. ‘This thing’s come in handy, to say the least.’

‘Okay, but how did you get all of the lights to go down?’ Ben asked. ‘Is there like a generator room or something?’

‘That wasn’t me,’ Manni responded, checking the straw-hewn crates for something, anything. ‘I don’t know who-‘

‘Look out!’

A boulder smacked into the back of Dey’s head. Or something of equal density. Pain skyrocketed through his skull and he collapsed awkwardly over the crate he’d been inspecting. 

‘Manni!’ roared Arthur.

Dazed, Dey drew his hand to the base of his cranium, immediately feeling warm blood. Something massive grabbed his shoulder and spun his torso. He looked up, greeted by a face of unadulterated malice. A giant of a man was glowering down at him.

‘And just who the hell are you…?’ Mr Kingfisher inquired slowly, dangerously. 

But when Manni didn’t speak, only wiped more blood that was trickling from the side of his mouth, Kingfisher grabbed the collar of his vest and literally lifted the detective from the ground.

‘Answer me, boy!’

‘Oi, let him go, you massive dickhead!’ Arthur barged his hands against his pen. He fought wildly to free his swollen ankle from its shackle.

‘Oh, I’ll deal with you in a minute,’ Kingfisher drawled in Sweet’s direction. ‘Don’t you worry about that.’

‘Like fuck you will!’ Manni kicked his huge assailant while he dangled in his grasp, and though the man sported an excessively large belly, it was like kicking a brick wall.

In one swift movement, Mr Kingfisher threw Manni across the barn, causing the detective’s bulk to collide into the far wall, cracking and splintering painted boards. In a few stomping footsteps Kingfisher was upon Manni once more, the detective still rising, nursing his wounded head.

‘You think you can just storm in here like Rambo and take down my entire Farm?’ The huge man was working his way into incandescence.

Manni tried to scrabble to his feet, boots kicking up dust and straw, but Kingfisher scooped him up in one massive hand and lifted Manni by his neck.

‘Get the fuck off him!!’ Arthur bellowed. ‘Oi!!’

Manni pulled at Kingfisher’s huge thick fingers with one hand, and attempted a punch with the other. The huge man simply dodged, then tightened his grip. Dey felt his body begin to lift from the ground once more, sliding upwards against the wrecked wall. He couldn’t breathe.

Arthur was entering into the realm of hysterics. He roared and threw his enormous body against the railings of his pen.

Ben could find no speech within him. He felt himself holding his breath in tandem with Detective Dey, who was starting to turn a dangerous shade of purple. Small, panicked chokes were escaping his mouth. 

Manni dug into his back pocket as his feet exited contact with the ground. The edges of his vision were beginning to swim. His fingers were fumbling to grip the taser.

‘Question now is,’ Kingfisher spoke in deadly tones, ‘do I crush your windpipe right here? Or do I make you watch while I cut out the old man’s tongue?’

‘I’M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!’ Arthur roared. ‘YOU HEAR ME? I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!!’

Without realising, Ben had shrunk into the corner of his pen, his back to the wall. He couldn’t watch this.

Manni produced the taser but the life in him was near depleted. He held it aloft, eyes brimming with reddened veins. Mr Kingfisher easily batted the device away. It clattered to the floor and the big man stomped on it with all his might, crushing it into a million pieces under his gargantuan snakeskin boot.

Manni was going to die. He felt the end seeping in. Everything sounded muffled. What little vision he’d had in this darkness was almost gone. He was being extinguished like a candle. There was no fight left. No energy. The last thing he saw were the whites of Kingfisher’s eyes, filled with a cold insanity.

THWANG!

Manni’s neck was released.

Mr Kingfisher stopped, then dropped to his knees before his entire massive body collapsed to one side in a pendulous motion.

Behind him, Law stood holding the bucket of tar, panting from the exertion of having swung it so hard; not a single drop had spilled.

Manni suddenly gasped for air, coughing, retching, drawing in huge great lungfuls of oxygen. He clasped at his wounded throat, felt his vision and hearing returning to him. 

‘What the fuck...?’ Ben breathed. ‘Law?’

The slender, beautiful farmhand looked down at their Master. ‘He’s not dead,’ they said. ‘He’s still breathing. I think I just knocked him out.’

‘Manni, are you alright?’ Arthur asked, his voice utterly broken. ‘Please tell me you’re alright!’

‘Mmmh,’ Manni managed, staggering to his feet. ‘Think so...’ 

Law then placed the bucket carefully down, and proceeded to unlock Arthur’s pen, then stepped in to undo his manacle. The older detective thanked them before run-waddling out to his partner, pulling him into the fiercest of hugs, letting Manni sink deep into his flab. 

Law next freed Ben, who just stood there for a moment. 

‘But... why? I don’t understand.’

‘What did you do with all the guards?’ Law asked of Manni, and the detective explained how he’d tased and contained them. ‘Good, that buys us more time, but the Master won’t be unconscious forever, we need to act.’

Ben gaped at them.

‘You took down all the lights,’ he realised, blinking. 

Law nodded. ‘I’m gonna need help moving him. He’s too heavy.’

And in that moment the entire weight of understanding hit Ben. The thought blossomed inside him, fully formed. 

‘... You’re Anon, aren’t you?’

And Law looked to him, face painted in something of a forlorn, bittersweet expression. ‘Yes.’

Ben was stunned to silence. He’d actually long given up on ever finding the identity of Anon. Then he realised just how much hope he’d abandoned along this journey. At each stop a piece of him had stayed behind, left to wither and die. 

‘I have... so much I wanna ask you,’ he said quietly. He didn’t know why he felt moisture in his eyes. 

‘I know,’ Law replied. ‘But right now we have to do something with the Master before he wakes up. I have an idea, but I’ll need help from all of you.’

‘Okay,’ said Manni, gently massaging the back of his head with one hand while the other remained tightly interlocked with Arthur’s. ‘What can we do?’

Thin dawn sunlight began to introduce itself across The Farm, cornfields quiet and unmanned, the sky a grey purple. 

Kingfisher lifted his heavy eyelids, the granddaddy of all headaches jackhammering into the back of his skull. He smacked his lips in a drowsy fog; his eyes wouldn’t focus. Something cold and hard was pressed around each ankle and each wrist, and his lethargic attempts to move either resulted in a heavy, metal rattling. He’d been positioned on his hands and knees, and the dull breeze against his skin told him he’d been stripped naked. He raised a hand to his throbbing head but the limb was jerked back by tight chains. 

‘Wha... huh...’ Forming the words proved difficult. 

‘He’s coming to.’ It was the voice of Law, only hazy, muffled. 

‘Lww.’ Kingfisher felt a little spittle roll down into his beard. ‘Wha... thfffckk...’

‘I almost forgot,’ Law spoke again. ‘We’ll need to remove his ring. It has the insignia of a Kingfisher on it. The Rookery would be able to identify him from that, and they’re probably going to start showing up in a few hours, once the daily delivery folks arrive and see the shit that’s gone down here. We don’t have all that long.’

‘Law...,’ Kingfisher slurred, finding his words a little now. ‘Ffucksgoin on...?’

‘Can you get any of the men out before The Rookery arrives?’ Ben asked Law. 

‘I think so,’ Law nodded. ‘Maybe not all, but I’ll do my best. Old Bill, though, I think... he’s just too big to be moved now.’

Ben was silent for a moment, his gaze downturned. But the solemnity was broken by the sudden clanging of metal on metal.

‘Law!’ Kingfisher dozily shouted. ‘Whyam I inchains, goddamnit?!’

‘Oh, shut your fuckin’ hole, you,’ Arthur growled in response. His back still twinged from helping to drag the huge fucker into this spare barn.

‘We don’t want to get you into any trouble,’ Ben once more addressed Law. 

‘You won’t,’ Law replied. ‘I’ll say there was a break-in, that we were overwhelmed, and that the attacker must have made off with the Master.’

‘You can come with us,’ Manni told them. ‘You don’t have to stay here.’

‘No,’ said Law. ‘I want to keep helping, as best I can. It’s taken a long time to gain as much trust and autonomy within The Rookery as I have. It’s how I’m able to access files, send texts, trip the lights remotely. I can do more good here.’

‘LISTEN T’ME!’ Kingfisher half-bellowed, half slurred. ‘YOURALL GONNA PAY F’THIS!’

‘Right, the ring,’ Law ignored their Master’s raves and went to take his left shackled hand. 

Kingfisher promptly balled it into a fist, and attempted to shake himself free of his bindings, though it was clear the fullness of the big man’s strength hadn’t yet returned. 

‘Allow me,’ Sweet said, watching Law struggle to unfurl Kingfisher’s mighty digits. 

‘Get th’fuck off me! Fuckin’ pig! You’ve no IDEA whatchour dealin’ with! Your life won’be worth livin...!’

Arthur gripped Kingfisher’s ring finger. ‘Shut up, cunt.’ And he snapped it backwards.

While the big man wailed in agony at a pitch that had seemed hitherto impossible for his timbre, Sweet happily slid the insignia ring from Kingfisher’s now useless, broken finger. 

The huge Master screamed and screamed, thrashing at his chains, letting snot and tears froth freely from him face. 

‘Ben, I think you should do the honours for the next part, mate,’ Arthur said. 

Ben stared down at Kingfisher. This man who’d reduced so many to animal-playthings, who’d tortured and mutilated for fun, who’d stolen Old Bill’s entire lifetime, and had wanted to do the same to him. As Ben gripped the pig hood, its insides still slathered in tar, he thought on how Kingfisher represented the whole damn lot of them. This Rookery. These maniacs who thought they could just take and take, stripping freedom from innocent men, ruining lives, even murdering. He saw Steadings squeezing his poor crushed body through the doorway - something the obese butler would likely be doing for the rest of his life. He saw the look of sheer terror in Terry’s eyes right before his stretched, agonised skin exploded. He saw J and M and each of Falcon’s victims in the Locklandrie dungeons, the chef now condemned to a lifetime of burning his poor fattened belly. And he saw the captives of this farm; not pigs but human fucking beings.

‘Sure,’ he said, quiet as a stone. ‘I’ll do it.’

He stepped forward, hood outstretched.

The convulsing Kingfisher’s eyes landed wildly on the tar-filled mask. ‘No! NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS! I’M A MASTER!’ His eyes had turned massive, their whites engorged. Spit flew from his mouth as he shook his head in crazed, jarring motions. 

Manni stepped in to lock a bulbous bicep around the Master’s head, keeping it in place while Ben carefully unpeeled the pig hood to its fullest.

‘NO!! NOOO!!!! OH FUCK! OH GOD! NOOO!!’ Kingfisher sounded, ironically, like a wild animal. 

That was until Ben placed the leather against the huge man’s face, letting the mouthpiece wedge itself between the former Master’s lips, keeping his jaw permanently open.

As Ben patted the hood down into place and wrapped the sides around Kingfisher’s head, he said, ‘I am Ben Townsend,’ speaking over what was now just inane screeches from inside the mask - the only sounds Mr Kingfisher would be ever be able to make from here on, the power of speech no longer his to command. ‘I am not a pig. I am not a subject. I am not a toy to be played with.’ He pushed down against the leather, and sealed the zipper shut up the back of Kingfisher’s head, encasing it forever more. ‘Just as you are no Master. And you never were. You are a small, petty, pathetic excuse for a human being.’ He leaned down, his lips against the part of the hood that stretched over Kingfisher’s ears. ‘You are nothing.’ 

And Manni let go. The huge man was thrashing his head in apoplectia, bellowing out huge, muffled sobs. And while he did this, Arthur unspooled the cloth tubing from one of the silos resting against the wall, and silently screwed its nozzle into Kingfisher’s new snout. The others watched on as the large detective paced back to the silo, and coldly flipped the lever. 

As the feed worked its way down the tubing, down, down into Kingfisher’s screaming mouth, Arthur repeated Ben’s words. 

‘You are nothing.’

Daylight had taken ahold of The Farm in full now. Morning had broken. 

As Law closed the barn door on their former Master, bolting the lock, they asked, ‘What will you do now?’

Manni looked to Arthur, took the older man’s hand. ‘Well, we can’t go back to the force anymore. It’s compromised. That much is obvious. Pretty sure there’s still a target on our backs, too.’

Sweet squeezed his hand between his hugely porked-up fingers. He gazed at the orange sky, listened to the dawn chorus, and took a deep breath. ‘Part of me wants to get as far away from these loonies as possible,’ he stated. ‘But another part wants to see how deep it really goes.’

‘The Rookery is... huge, Detective,’ Law warned. ‘They’re not restricted to the UK, either.’

Arthur looked to Manni, his partner. His lover. ‘What do you think?’

The younger detective appeared thoughtful, but eventually said, ‘I just wanna go wherever you go.’ And he lifted Sweet’s pudgy hand to his lips and kissed.

Law looked to both of them with calculation. ‘There’s an Island,’ they said. ‘It’s one of the main nerve centres of the organisation. A pressure point, you could say, though its Master is said to be extremely high tiered, far more so than Kingfisher. I’m not exactly sure what goes on there - no-one is - but you can be certain it’s extremely dangerous.’

Manni set his jaw, pulled Sweet’s hand against his formidable pec. ‘Then that’s where we go.’ And he saw his partner nod. ‘If we’re ever gonna get to the bottom of this thing, maybe even find a way to take it down, we need to start there.’

‘This farm is about 4 miles from the coast,’ Law told them. ‘I can give you coordinates for The Island as best I know them, and some cash from the safe - I can skim enough off The Farm’s finances that no-one will notice. It should help, and maybe you can hire yourselves a boat. The Isle of Man isn’t too far, either; you could always stop there for supplies on the way. The Rookery has no footing there.’

‘Then that’s where I’ll go,’ Ben chimed in. ‘If you guys can drop me off there.’

They looked to him. 

‘You’re sure?’ Arthur asked.

‘Anywhere The Rookery isn’t is where I want to be,’ Ben responded. ‘Law, do you think you could stretch some of that cash to me? I’m sorry to ask. Maybe some spare clothes for me and Arthur, too?’

Law nodded. ‘I’m sure I can. You can have the Master’s clothes, he keeps plenty here, and he won’t be needing them anymore.’

‘Thank you,’ Ben said. ‘For everything. Thank you so much. I don’t know how to repay you.’

‘I'm just sorry I couldn't help more. You can understand how... difficult that is, I'm sure. Just help me get as many guys out of here as we can before the first trucks start arriving,’ Law said. ‘That’ll be thanks enough.’

‘Of course.’

‘Law, do you know if there’s a lad named Jamie here?’ Arthur asked. ‘Jamie Beck? He’d be a big beefy young man. I know that don't narrow it down much.’

‘We don’t keep records of IDs here, but that name sounds familiar,’ Law said.

But then Ben stepped in. ‘Yes! He’s here! I’m sure I saw him here, working the fields. I’d met him once before.’

Law nodded. ‘We’ll get him out along with the others.’

Sweet and Dey gave their thanks. Arthur, particularly. Perhaps he hadn’t failed, after all...

By Law’s watch, the four of them still had an hour or so before anyone would show up to The Farm asking questions, raising concerns to superiors. 

It might be a small victory, but it was a start. And maybe some of the men they freed would go on to tell their stories, and those who listened would go on telling others. And so on and so on. A network of truths against the carefully threaded lies The Rookery had sewn throughout society in order to disguise itself. 

Ben stood back a moment, and watched Arthur Sweet sink his fat hands into Manni Dey’s meaty sides, pulling him in to the strongest kiss he’d ever witnessed, sparkles of condensation in both detectives’ eyes. 

They’re going to fight back, he thought to himself. 

And they’re going to win.