Chapter 27: Interlude: The Guards in Buckingham

London, the night when the world ended.

As far as Karim Williams remembered, he always dreamed of becoming a guard.

Some children wanted to become astronauts, or scientists, or prime ministers. But not Karim. Not terribly bright even from a young age, he knew he would never amount to much. He still remembered what his father told him in his childhood, when Karim showed him his terrible school grades: ‘Mediocrity is a quality all of its own, Karim. Mules are mediocre, but they work hard and make the world go round. Great men stand on the backs of mediocre masses. I know that someday, you’ll lift up someone destined to do great things.’’

Karim always knew who he wanted to carry on his back: God saves the Queen of England.

So he worked very hard to serve his country. He enlisted in the British army, passed his exams by the skin of his teeth, and asked to join the Grenadier Guards of the Household Division. Until one day, after countless drills and push-ups, the officers gave him his uniform of the Queen’s Guard. Him! The dirt-poor grandson of a Pakistani immigrant!

The royal family would never know Karim’s name, and neither would the public. He would forever remain one of the faceless guards keeping up the gates of Buckingham Palace, fending off would-be assassins and Chinese tourists alike. But Karim was happy. His life had purpose.

Nights were cold in London. Karim’s uniform warmed him up somewhat, as did his black fur hat; although it was a tad too heavy for him and always threatened to fall over his eyes. His rifle felt heavy in his hands, but not as much as the weight of duty. Mist came out of his mouth when he breathed.

Karim’s first shift ever took place in the early morning. Big Ben would strike four o’clock soon. The sky was pitch black, but London never slept. There were always drunkards beyond the fences of Buckingham Palace, shouting and rambling in the shadow of the Victoria Memorial.

The night was quiet all the same. Karim had been granted the ultimate honor of guarding the gates of Buckingham Palace on his first shift, to act as the Royal Family’s first line of defense against their sworn enemies: the tourists, the paparazzi, and the stalkers. His only company on his lone vigil was a fellow guard. The two guards stood alone before the palace’s main entrance, separated from the city by steel fences.

Karim knew the higher-ups put his shift at this hour to test his resolve. He struggled against the urge to close his eyes and fall asleep from the monotony. Even the customary fifteen-paces march every ten minutes became terribly monotonous after a while.

But Karim resisted the temptation. His first shift was all the more important for who he shared it with.

Bill McMalone. The Legend. The Rock of Buckingham.

Karim dared to peek at his teammate. Bill was an older man in his sixties, with a tough Irish face, beardless jawline, icy blue eyes, and a bodybuilder’s abs. He looked like the bear whose fur his black hat had been made from.

Some said that Bill was too old for service and should retire, but the higher-ups kept renewing his contract year after year. Maybe out of gratitude. Maybe out of respect. For if half the stories Karim had heard about Bill McMalone were true, then he was more than a man. No human could be as still and silent as him.

Karim hadn’t seen Bill blink once in the last hour and a half they spent together. He wondered if the man even breathed. Bill McMalone only moved from his spot for the customary walking routine and then returned to his post without a word.

Karim hadn’t dared to speak to the man for the length of his shift. Too intimidating. But as his two hours of service would soon reach their end, he mustered the courage to break the ice.

“Is it true what they say? In the regiment?” Karim cleared his throat. “You spent six shifts back-to-back to cover for sick colleagues?”

If Bill McMalone had heard, he didn’t show it. Karim gulped as the tense silence stretched on. Did he mess up somehow?

“No,” Bill finally replied with a deep voice. “I lasted twelve shifts.”

Karim’s eyes widened in shock. “Twenty-four hours?”

“Without eating. Without drinking. Without sleeping.” Bill McMalone marked a short pause, as if particularly proud of the last part. “Without peeing.”

Impossible. No man could hold that long. Yet the unshakable certainty in the man’s voice convinced Karim of his honesty. “How did you do it, sir?”

“It’s…” Bill grunted. “Authoritah.”

“Authority?” Karim asked naïvely.

“Authoritah,” Bill replied. “It’s authority beyond composure. Authority over yourself and the world.”

“And… how do you obtain…” Karim coughed. “Authoritah?”

“Give it time.” Bill’s tone reminded Karim of his father handing out wisdom to his young son. “You do not learn authoritah. Authoritah comes to you when you need it most.”

Karim listened to the lesson in silence. He would have time to meditate on it in his bed. Their replacements should arrive sometime soon.

Big Ben struck four o’clock, signaling the end of Karim’s shift and the end of the world.

First came the frost. A strange chill spread through the air like a wave, cold and biting. A pulse of invisible energy followed. Karim felt the wave going through his body without understanding its nature. He briefly wondered if the wind had suddenly changed course, until the skies changed colors.

A bright blue aurora borealis spread from the distant Big Ben, so bright Karim squinted at the sudden change in luminosity. The northern lights expanded to cover all of London in the blink of an eye. As for Big Ben itself, the tower grew taller and taller. Karim watched on, mesmerized, as the monument’s infamous clock pierced the clouds. Giant gears and pipes materialized on Big Ben’s surface until it took on a strange, steampunk appearance.

“What the hell?” Karim muttered, unable to believe what his eyes showed him. Had sleeplessness dulled his senses? Was he dreaming? “What’s happening?”

Big Ben wasn’t the only monument to transform. The Tower of London, which normally could hardly be seen from the guards’ position, shot up to the skies. Its walls took on a sinister black tone and a ring of fire surrounded the castle’s top. The Tower didn’t grow as tall as Big Ben, but it now more than rivaled the Eiffel Tower in size. A flock of winged, shadowy forms flew away from the building and under the auroras’ light.

When Karim thought they had reached the height of strangeness, a message appeared before his eyes as if he were reading from a computer screen.

Whoever reaches level 100 first will become Earth’s new Overgod.

“Overwhat?” Karim made a quick prayer to Allah, just in case.

As the only class available to you, you automatically took a level in [Watchman]: a mediocre class focused on policing cities and enforcing order. Growths: Strength (C); Agility (C); Vitality (C); Skill (C); Magic (C); Intelligence (C); Charisma (C); Luck (C).

Level 1 Stat Gains: +1 STR, +1 VIT, +1 AGI, +1 CHA, +1 LCK. Your Health Points were raised by 30 and your Special Points by 10.

New Perk: Esprit de Corps I (Passive): You are but a faceless drone in a big machine. You can telepathically communicate with other members of your Party, Guild, or Faction, no matter the distance.

You automatically formed a party with: Bill McMalone.

A rush of pleasure traveled down Karim’s spine, though it did little to alleviate his nervousness. A white fog started to fall upon the city at an alarming rate, clouding London’s buildings and skyscrapers in a dense layer of mist.

“What’s happening?” Karim asked his teammate. “Did you see that message too? What does it mean? What’s happening?”

Bill glanced at Big Ben with indifferent eyes. “Ugh.”

“Ugh?” Karim repeated.

“Ugh,” Bill grunted back.

He didn’t look concerned in the slightest.

Karim waited a few seconds before his nervousness got the better of him. He activated the earpiece hidden beneath his hat and attempted to contact the rest of his regiment. “Chief? Chief? Gate to officers, what’s happening?”

Only a static noise answered his questions.

“What do we do?” Karim asked his senior partner. “Do we check up on the royal family?”

“We wait for the next shift to arrive.” Bill shrugged his shoulders. “I assume they will be a bit late.”

Somehow, Karim had the feeling that this would prove to be an understatement.

Screams came out of the mist, and to Karim’s horror, they didn’t sound human at all. Although he couldn’t see much past the fog, he glimpsed flashes of light in the distance followed by the sound of explosions.

“What if somebody needs help?” Karim asked weakly. He had a terrible feeling about… whatever was happening. Was it a holographic show of some kind? Why hadn’t he been informed?

“Until new guards come, you’ll stand your ground.” Bill stared at the incoming fog with the utter indifference of an unimpressed veteran. “The job of the Queen's Guard is like making love to a woman, young man.”

Karim looked at his fellow guard with confused eyes. He had nothing but respect for McMalone, but that comparison was almost scandalous. “I… I don’t follow, sir.”

“You struggle against the urge to unload your essence,” Bill explained. “But to maximize your partner’s pleasure, you must wait for the right moment. Even if you feel like the pipe will burst out, that the pressure is too much, you have to hold on to it until you are in the perfect position. Like how you must wait for your next shift before climax.”

Karim listened in silence, but the metaphor was too much for him. “Sir, I’m sorry, but that makes no sens—”

“You don’t want to pleasure your wife, Karim?” Bill snarled at his teammate without moving an inch. Karim tensed up like an iron pole. “You think she’s too good for you? You think you can blow your load when she isn’t ready, or cheat on her? Is that what you think?”

“I-I don’t have a wife, Sir!”

“Not with that attitude! How can you hope to hold a woman if you can’t hold your position?! You will respect the Queen’s Guard the same way you would respect your future wife! You don’t cheat on the Duchess of Windsor, Karim! You don’t cheat on Kate and William!”

Karim trembled in place, overwhelmed by his fellow guard’s vehemence. He stared into the distance, ignoring the screams, ignoring the noise of explosions, ignoring the small ‘+’ symbol at the edge of his vision.

It… it had to be alright. Bill was much older than Karim, an experienced watchman with decades of service to the Crown. He knew better. If he felt all of this was nothing to be worried about, then Karim’s worries were misplaced. He breathed in and out, telling himself everything was fine.

Yes, yes, the skies were falling apart, but it didn’t matter. Everything would turn out well. Nothing to worry about.

“Are you married, Sir?” Karim asked.

“No.” Bill McMalone’s face remained an unblinking mask. “I’m divorced.”

Karim wondered why, but wisely did not push the subject further.

Nobody came to relieve them for the next hour.

Karim vaguely heard shouts and movement behind the palace’s doors, but nobody came to give him and Bill directions. The fog made it nigh-impossible to see beyond the palace’s fence, except for the Victoria Memorial. The golden, winged statue atop the monument shone brightly under the faint light of the aurora. The mists swirled under it like a raging sea unable to topple a lighthouse.

I need to pee, Karim thought. His bladder was a dam holding back a flood. Worse, his hat was starting to slide onto his forehead, making it harder for him to see. So much.

Think of Bojo, Karim.

It was the voice of Bill McMalone, but it echoed in Karim’s head rather than in Buckingham’s courtyard. The younger guard glanced at his elder, who hadn’t moved from his post.

You gained this… Esprit de Corps too? Karim thought. By Bojo, you mean…

Boris Johnson, the older guard repeated through telepathy. Think of Bojo, Karim.Think of the prime minister.It will help you hold back the tide.

Karim would rather think of Meghan Markle right now, but his fear of Bill eavesdropping on his fantasies cowed him. He imagined the face of Boris Johnson looking down on him, much like his father scolding him for speaking out of turn. Karim’s bladder stopped distracting him immediately.

“They’re coming,” Bill said out of the blue.

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“What?” Karim asked. “Who?”

“The plebeians are at the gates,” the older guard replied evasively.

Karim didn’t have to ponder long. The fenced steel gates collapsed in a terrible bang and a shadowy shape emerged from the mist.

Karim screamed.

A festering horror lumbered out of the mist. Thrice the size of the average man, the creature was made of body parts crudely stitched together in a humanoid shape. Skin spots of different colors, from green to gray, formed a nightmarish patchwork that made Karim’s stomach turn. Bolts struck out of the creature’s head, sparks of lightning bursting from them. And the eyes… two white lights glowed from within black, empty sockets.

A notification appeared above the creature’s head.

Stitched Mark I

Level 10 [Artificial/Undead]

Karim thought, prayed, that it was only a very convincing costume. But as the creature came closer in unnerving silence, its hands so large they could probably seize a horse, he realized that the… the thing was all too inhuman.

“B-Back off!” Karim raised his rifle at the lumbering brute. “Back off!”

The creature rushed at him, its steps making the ground shake beneath his feet. Karim opened fire as training demanded, only for his bullets to bounce off the monster’s skin. It closed the gap between the metal fence and the guards in an instant.

Karim prepared to join his maker… but the lethal blow never came.

Instead, the Frankenstein creature froze one meter away from the guards. Its body was tense, its eyes were wide open, but they ignored Karim entirely.

Bill McMalone had engaged in a staring contest with the monster.

The older guard did not move an inch. He hadn’t even lowered his rifle to threaten the monster. No, he simply gazed at the monster with his cold, soulless blue eyes. Somehow, that was enough to stop it dead in its tracks.

The scene reminded Karim of two gorillas threatening one another. Neither made a move to attack the other, yet the pressure grew between them. Karim held his breath, anticipating the deadly fight he knew would come.

He was mistaken.

After a tense standoff, the stitched monster took a few steps back away from the guards. It moved closer to the fence, its grim expression one of wariness. At no point did it break eye contact with Bill McMalone, and the guard did not move an inch.

The creature turned around without warning and fled in the mist. Bill watched it vanish with a look of utter contempt.

“Wimp,” was all he said.

It took Karim a full five minutes of breathing, in and out, to recover his composure. “What was that?” he asked, his lungs cold within his chest. “What happened?”

“Authoritah,” Bill replied calmly. “That was authoritah at work, Karim.”

“No, I mean…” Karim pointed his rifle at the destroyed metal fence. “That thing! What was that?!”

“Probably a Welsh tourist. I think.” Bill let out a shrug. “They’re the worst.”

“Tourists don’t grow that big!” His partner’s utter nonchalance both shocked and infuriated Karim. “W-Why aren’t you more concerned?”

Bill McMalone turned his eyes and met his junior’s gaze.

“After two years in the Queen’s Guard, Karim,” he said, very calmly, “nothing on the job will surprise you anymore.”

He looked back at the gates and Karim knew the matter was closed.

Karim calmly returned to his post, rifle pointed at the skies. Somehow, his partner’s sheer serenity in the face of strangeness calmed him.

“Did it happen before?” he asked Bill.

“Not since they tried to raise Lady Di from the dead,” the older guard replied with a shrug. “Now that was a shitshow.”

Karim stared at his colleague in uncomfortable silence, searching for any hint that that was a joke. He didn’t find any.

“London Bridge is falling down…” A sinister voice echoed out of the mist. “Falling down, falling down, London Bridge is falling down…”

Karim glanced at the metal fence, half expecting the monstrous creature to return for a new round. Instead, a new dark figure stepped out of the fog.

“My fair lady built it up with iron bars, iron bars, iron bars…” A gaunt man in a dark trench coat walked into view, his fingers playing with knives. His face was hidden behind a gas mask and his hair under a black hat. “Built it up with iron bars…”

Only when the figure came closer did Karim realize that the mysterious man wasn’t playing with knives.

His fingers were knives.

Ripper

Level 6 [Humanoid]

“My fair lady, iron bars will bend and break…” The dark man stared at Bill McMalone with empty glass eyes. Since the older guard wouldn’t even look at the intruder, he instead turned his gaze at Karim. “Bend and break, bend and break…”

Was that Jack the Ripper? Karim did his best not to show fear and unease, but his body betrayed him. His fingers clenched around his rifle, which the monster noticed. The creature sharpened his knives against each other.

“Bend and break…” he sang to himself, ready to disembowel Karim. “Like corpses…”

Use it, Karim, McMalone’s voice echoed in his colleague’s skull. He sounded calm, but firm.

Use what?! Karim thought back.

Your authoritah. Use your authoritah. Look at him. Look straight at him.

Karim held his breath and faced the knife monster. Their gazes locked in a silent contest of will. Slitted reptilian eyes behind the gas mask’s glass lenses staring back at Karim. He knew that if he ever faltered, that if he even blinked, the monster would strike him dead. It was pure agony to keep his eyes open. They felt as dry as a desert.

So Karim raised his eyebrows to break the deadlock.

The monster was taken aback. It lifted his chin a little bit, trying to keep up, but it couldn’t match Karim’s speed.

To the stratosphere, Karim!

Karim’s eyebrows reached as high as the human body—and his fur hat—would allow it. He felt the blood flow into his pupils, the pressure growing, the sweat falling down his forehead.

Something snapped in the Ripper’s heart like a bowstring. The monster flinched. He looked between Karim and Bill, his posture was that of a scared animal, and he fled without a word into the night.

When the creature was gone, Karim gasped for air and blinked to hydrate his eyes. Bill McMalone simply gave him a sharp nod of approval.

Big Ben struck six and the Buckhingham Palace’s doors opened at long last. Two members of the Queen’s Guard came out in uniform, fresh and confident.

“Hi guys,” the oldest of them said. “Sorry for the delay, we had a few corpses to bury in the garden. How was your shift?”

“Eventful,” Bill replied with a sigh. “Class-X disaster scenario.”

“I know, right?” The youngest of the new guards—Karim thought his name was Mickey or something—looked at the skies. “We still don’t understand what caused the phenomenon.”

“Well, we trained for emergencies like this one.” Bill frowned at his colleagues. “Which of you dumbasses let Jack the Ripper out of his cell again?”

“We didn’t,” Mickey protested. “He’s in the basement.”

Bill McMalone did a thing Karim had yet to see him do: blink. The old guard looked at the shadow of Big Ben and the auroras in the skies. “Wait, this has nothing to do with the celebrity sacrifices?”

“No, they’re right on schedule and Queen Elizabeth is still immortal.”

Karim opened his mouth, words dying on the tip of his tongue, and then closed it. Instead, he listened in silence.

“This mess,” Bill McMalone pointed at the aurora, “has nothing to do with us?”

“Nope,” Mickey replied. He looked calm, but concerned. “And from what we can tell, it’s worldwide. It’s chaos out there. Apparently life is a video game now, there’s monsters running around, riots in the streets… We even lost contact with Agent Markle, so the plan to take back the USA for England is dead in the waters.”

“It’s worse than the night when Prince Charles came out as a vampire,” Bill said with an angry frown. “Is he still in his coffin, at least?”

“Yes, although the Duchess of Cornwall is starting to suspect the body double.” The new guards glanced at Karim with a conspiratorial look. “Wait, is he… in the know?”

“It’s okay, he’s ready for the initiation. I’ll vouch for him.” Bill locked eyes with his colleague. “Karim.”

Karim straightened up.

“What you see and hear as a Queen’s Guard, stays in the Guard,” Bill said. “Do you understand?”

By now, Karim had stopped asking himself questions and just went with the flow. “Yes, Sir.”

“There are things about the Royal Family—very dark stuff, borderline Satanic—that the public is never allowed to know. Part of your job as a member of the Household Division will be to keep it that way. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Bill McMalone patted Karim on the shoulder. “Happy first day on the job.”

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