I felt a slight relief as I released some of the tension I’d been holding in case of a possible ambush; while surprise parties weren’t necessarily my thing, they were… mostly… better than battles.

I slipped surreptitiously away as the crowd cheered for Caledonia and she began her speech. This was, after all, my cousin’s moment; I didn’t want to overshadow her. I sidled over to the bar and mixed myself a martini – gin, stirred not shaken, while glancing at a bottle of unopened vermouth – and listened to her speech.

I felt Lord Urquhart approaching, and he seemed unruffled by my greeting him without looking in his direction. Once Caledonia had finished speaking, and the music began, I turned to face him. ‘My Lord. Forgive my manners, I – ’

‘ – politely paid attention to the guest of honor as she gave her speech. No explanation necessary.’ He smirked. Then, his brow wrinkled, as if contemplating. ‘And… there’s no need to call me “my Lord.” We’ve fought alongside each other; I think first names are acceptable.’

‘So be it, my… Dan. Erm, I mean…’

Urquhart laughed. ‘You get that one, Mark, but if you want to call me “your Dan” again you’ll need to buy me a few more drinks.’

I laughed along as best I could. Urquhart poured himself a neat scotch, and gestured for me to follow him, away from the noise of the party and into a quiet room to the side.

‘I recognize that this is a night for celebration,’ he said, ‘but some things cannot wait. Although your cousin won a great victory against the Institute, our own objectives have made less progress.’

‘Our objectives?’ I asked. I had an inkling, but… well, Urquhart and I hadn’t really talked. I didn’t want to assume.

He looked at me askance. ‘The rebuilding of the Order. I’m sorry, I thought you had -’

‘No, no,’ I said, ‘that’s definitely the goal here. I just… permission to speak candidly, my lord?’

‘I told you not to call me that,’ he chided. ‘But go ahead.’

‘From what Nia – Jane, as you call her, your fiancée – told us, you were disgusted by the Order, enough to confront her father about its practices,’ I said. ‘Now, the same can be said of that great lunkhead my cousin married, but…’

Urquhart swirled his glass, watching the whiskey eddy within. ‘It is true… I was naïve and idealistic. I thought that the Order was cruel and exploitative… even now, I cannot deny its ruthlessness. But for all that the Order was, it was the only unified opposition to the Institute. To the forces of Pierreian Amorality; those who would destroy the world simply because it is Willed within a Book.’ He glanced up at me. ‘You can say a lot about the Order, but their goal, past or present, has never been planetary annihilation. Merely the preservation of a more civilized social fabric. And if a few eggs need be broken in order for that omelet…’

I nodded. ‘What changed your mind?’

‘Jane’s father showed me precisely what the Institute had planned,’ he said bluntly. ‘The Order had at least one third of the Book of Beginnings and Endings – and while that Book is subject to interpretation, some parts are beyond ambiguity. The Institute sought nothing less than the utter destruction of the entire Traditionalist world. Including all those innocents about whom I was so concerned. And the Independents, though noble, have been next to useless in actually stopping the Institute. Jane has such notions, her and that Chaote she cavorted with…’ He took a sip, then a slow breath. ‘In the end, they have fought against the Institute in their manner for eight years, and nothing has been done. Until now. And that only with our help.’

He looked at me. ‘Carlton, the Institute must be defeated. And the Order must be restored. You and I, working together, can fulfil the mission of the Kingsmen. We can crush the Amoralists and restore what is rightfully ours. But the work begins immediately.’

I nodded, looking briefly at my rapidly-dwindling martini. ‘What’s the plan?’

‘I had hoped that we could work together in the coming days to formulate one. I have ideas, but… well, there is a reason that the surviving Kingsmen sacrificed themselves to bring you here. You are to be a key figure in this war; you should be a key figure in its conception.’

Before I could speak further, Highlander burst through the door, somehow already drunk. ‘Oh hai Mark!’ he said, chuckling at his own wit. ‘You won’t believe it. We’re teamed up for the week!’

Oh, frabjous day, I thought bitterly. ‘Splendid.’

‘And guess who we’re fighting?’

‘… I don’t know, the bloody Danger Boys?’

‘Better! The Andersons! Good ollllll Billy an’ Tyler!’ he said, putting on an atrocious Southern drawl.

‘You’ve lived in Atlanta for a decade, why does your Southern accent still sound like the bastard lovechild of Foghorn Leghorn and Yosemite Sam?’ I muttered.

‘C’mon. We’re gonna do a thing. And put these on!’

‘What in the – ’ I said, catching the singlet and cowboy hat that the lunkhead tossed at me.

‘C’moooon,’ he said.

‘How in the name of all that is holy are you this drunk?’ I demanded.

‘I got stabbed in the face, so they gave me yuuuummy medicine and alcyhol,’ he slurred.

Urquhart, looking far more amused than he had any right to, slipped out and winked at me. I gestured for him to stay and back me up, but to no avail. Highlander looked at me. ‘Hey, you know what we should call ourselves? Since I’m the Hammer and your initials are “M” and “C”?’

Oh, bloody hell…

‘MC Hammer!’ he roared, nearly doubling over with laughter.

‘Perhaps you ought to turn in?’ I asked, desperately.

‘Nah, we’re gonna do a thing,’ he said again. ‘C’mon, put on the hat.’

‘I’d… really rather not…’

‘C’moooooooooooooooooooooooo –’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ I said, quickly changing into the singlet and donning the ridiculous hat.

‘Tha’s better,’ said Highlander. ‘Alright, let’s go to th’studio…’



We cut to the aforementioned studio, where MC Hammer (yes, it’s a thing, fuck you) are standing under a spotlight.

Highlander (in an atrocious Southern accent): Well, howdy, y’all, and welcome to th’Georgia Reel! I’m Bully – I mean, Billy Anderson, and I’m the Unstoppable One…

Carlton (with no attempt whatsoever at an accent): *sigh* And I am Tyler Anderson, the… “Mysterious One.” We are the –

Highlander: THE UNSTOPPABLE FORCE!

Carlton rolls his eyes.

Highlander: Oh no – I feel my dark side coming on!

He floats over to an increasingly-uncomfortable Carlton, making “ghost noises”.

Carlton: Ahem… erm, come now, William, there’s no need for any of that.

Highlander: Oh hey, you’re right.

Beat.

Highlander: Let’s sing, y’all! This is a nice little song about architecture…

Carlton: Oh, bloody hell…

Highlander:

He pauses for dramatic effect. Carlton openly facepalms.

Female voice, offscreen: Ahem!

The camera swings around to show Caledonia, who looks… well, a little amused, but the pissed-offedness overshadows it.

Highlander: Stormee!

Caledonia: No, it’s Caledonia – and you, sir, have had enough to drink!

Highlander is dragged off-screen by his ear, dropping his guitar in the process.

Carlton: Erm… I have nothing else to say. Thank you, and God save the King.



[Author’s note: the song is Back Door Lovin’ by The Pigs]