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Wakey wakey, rise and shine
The climb back to consciousness was hard and slow but Eggsy was nothing if not determined. A soft throb of pain in his neck became his focus as he dragged himself back to the land of the living, synapses firing sluggishly. It was an effort to kick his brain into gear so he could take stock; neck ache, tongue thick, mouth dry. He struggled to open his eyes, fighting against the lead weights holding his eyelids down, and when he finally made it it took a couple of seconds for the double-vision to clear. A wave of dizziness made his stomach roll and he swallowed quickly to avoid the bile that rose up his throat.
“The sickness will pass in a moment.”
Eggsy clamped down until it did, forcing himself to breathe hard through his nose. Other things became apparent as he waited for his stomach to settle; like the fact that arms were pulled back and his wrists were tied. Tightly, too, he discovered when he discretely tested them. Pins and needles raced down his arms when he moved which told him he’d been tied like this for a while. Shit.
“Welcome back.”
He leaned casually against the dark wood desk, arms folded across his chest. Thin lips smiled, grey eyes looking down that long straight nose at him and suddenly Eggsy remembered. The burn of tobacco on his throat and the taste of it on his tongue, his back against the rough brick of the alley, strong hands grabbing his hips, bruising his waist, wrists pinned and cut and scraped up. Things got a little hazy after that, darkness crowding in where it shouldn’t be. Panic clawed at him, all kinds of possibilities screaming at him for what happened after his lights went out, but the only soreness he could find was his wrists and the back of his head where it met the wall. He looked down at himself, struggling against the bonds, but the fact that his clothes were still on - minus his jacket - was a relief.
“Where the fuck am I?” he demanded.
“Somewhere we’re not likely to be disturbed.”
“That’s fucking reassuring, thanks mate.”
The man laughed, “Oh, he has a mouth on him, too.”
Eggsy stopped struggling and slouched against the chair instead, looking up at the man who he knew only as their target. Nicotine rush on the first drag, ignored. What’s your name? Fag stolen, smoke blown in perfect rings. No names. He was definitely more composed now than he had been in that alley. Crisp white shirt, jacket hanging neatly on the ornate chair to his left, hair slicked back. Eggsy could still feel it between his fingers before the man had yanked them back, pinned them to the wall instead, kissed him like he was trying to claw inside of him and eat his way out.
“This some kinky sex game?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, taking in the background details even as he kept his focus on the man in front of him. Plush room, high-end, spacious. Thick carpet, heavy curtains, not drawn. “‘Cause a little warning woulda been nice.”
The Man clucked his tongue and shook his head, arms shifting to brace against the desk top. Dark out, city lights. High up. Hotel? “This wasn’t the plan for tonight.”
“No?” He smirked, added a leer for good effect, “Shame.”
The Man’s expression didn’t change from the mildly amused smile that had settled on his mouth. “I’d planned to finish my drink and retire to bed, spend a quiet night in before my flight tomorrow. Then there was you.” He pushed off the desk slowly, moved towards him. Eggsy saw the way he moved, catalogued it, filed it away and kept up the prick smirk as he advanced. “I knew the second I saw you I was in for trouble, but then I tasted you and couldn’t resist.”
Eggy’s ego inflated just a little at that. I’m just that fucking good. The Man stopped just shy of his knees, staring down at him still with that smile, but now he could see the naked hunger in his eyes. “I was going to take you home. I was going to fuck you until you screamed and then I was going to fuck you some more.”
There was something fucked up in the way Eggsy’s mind worked, because for a second - just the barest fucking second - he realised he wouldn’t have minded that. But not from this man. Not from this man who pushed one hand gently through his hair and gripped tight, not from this man who forced his head back - and not even the sudden pain in his neck could stop his dick from jumping and shit fuck that’s not right what the hell? - and came so close he could taste the stolen smoke on his breath.
“So imagine my surprise-” he continued, voice barely above a whisper as he closed in even further, “-when I found these in your pocket?”
It wasn’t until he moved back that Eggsy could see what he had in his other hand.
His glasses.
“Poor eyesight,” he found himself saying, and the part of him that wasn’t panicking patted himself on the back for keeping his voice level.
The Man huffed a breath, “Very quick. However, not the right answer.” He let go of Eggsy’s hair and straightened up, “Had these not been plain glass I might have accepted that.”
Excuses and reasons flew through his mind at super speed and he settled on rolling his eyes and shrugging in what he hoped was a convincing manner, “Alright, so I like wearing glasses sometimes. Makes me look posh, get’s me into places like that easy.”
“Ah, but you see, I’m a very cautious man. Some might even call me paranoid.” He smiled, like it was an inside joke. “Normal glasses wouldn’t have picked up on the scanners installed in the car I put you in to get you here.”
He didn’t remember a car, he definitely didn’t remember a car. He remembered hands and mouths and bruises but definitely not a car. Which told Eggsy he was knocked out in the alley before the car arrived. The expensive looking clock on the desk told him it was twenty past one in the morning; working backwards to the time he got to the club meant that he was still in London. That was good, that meant the others didn’t have far to look for him.
The Man unfolded the arms of his Kingsman glasses and inspected them carefully, turning them this way and that. “Microphone, video feed, HUD function.” He gave a low whistle, “This is expensive and exclusive technology. Which begs the question: why would a little tart like you have glasses such as these?” He paused, smiled. “Of course, the answer is very simple.”
“Oh yeah?” Eggsy chanced, looking smug, “What answer’s that then, Genius?”
“You’re an agent. Police, government, spy.” He frowned at the glasses, “Although I doubt you’re anything to do with the government judging by this tech. Too pricey for them.”
He forced a laugh, “You’re having a giraffe, mate. What, you think I’m fucking James Bond, now? Fuck, is this some sort of role-playing thing? Because I’m telling you now that’s not my thing.”
The Man just shook his head, the mild amusement turning to disappointment. “Oh darling, it’s lovely to see you try but please spare me the bullshit. I know what you are and what you were trying to do. What I don’t know is who you work for.” He turned, placed the glasses neatly on the desk, “I tried to find out when I disabled the locator device hidden in the nose bridge but the internal coding is very hard to crack.”
Eggsy blinked. Well shit. His reaction caused The Man’s lips to stretch into a slow, smug smile.
“I thought you’d like that.”
His heart raced, mind blank and full of things at the same time. Fucking think, dickhead. How’re you gonna get out of this? Eggsy breathed slow and deep, cleared his mind. The window was open but going by the lights outside they were pretty high up. He could parkour his way down but that involved getting a good look at his escape route and he didn’t think that was going to happen any time soon. The only other choice was to fight his way out. It was one man, he’d taken on a whole fucking platoon of soldiers at that twat Valentine’s mountain hide-out, one man was hardly going to make him sweat.
He heard a door open behind him. The Man looked up.
“Ah, boys. Right on time, as usual.”
Ok, so two men. The odds were still majorly in his favour. He remembered the minders from the bar and mentally calculated the effort he’d need to take them down. Guns too, he thought, remembering the holster. He didn’t know if the snub nosed revolver was still strapped to his ankle or if they’d removed it, but he’d find out soon enough.
“I’m going to leave you in the very capable hands on my boys now,” The Man said, sliding into his suit jacket and calmly smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a flight to catch. My schedule has changed.”
Eggsy struggled against the ties again, ignoring the pain in his wrists as the plastic zip-ties cut through his skin. The Man stepped up to him again, pushed a hand through his hair, and Eggsy fought against that too but didn’t manage to dislodge him. He looked up into those amused grey eyes and committed his face to memory.
“It seems such a waste not to have you,” he lamented, “I was looking forward to hearing you scream.”
His mouth was on him before Eggsy could blink, hungry and savage and painful as he gave him a taste of what could have been. Strong fingers clamped down on his jaw, holding him in place, giving him no room to move even as he struggled against them. Pissed off, Eggsy bucked up and bit down on whatever was between his teeth, but his reaction didn’t have the desired effect. The Man pulled back with a hoarse laugh, tailing it with a moan as he pulled at Eggsy’s hair again.
“God, I love the spirited ones.”
He shoved Eggsy’s head forward and released him, stepping away again. Eggsy watched as he pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his bottom lip, felt a surge of triumph when it came away bloody. But The Man only laughed as he probed the injury with his tongue. He motioned absently to the Heavy’s loitering behind him.
“Cut the ties.”
The sing of a flick-knife, the release of pressure on his wrists. You fucking idiot, he thought with glee, and threw his head back into the face of the goon behind him.
Pain blasted through his skull but he ruthlessly ignored it in favour of over-balancing the chair, letting his weight take it all the way back to the floor where it splintered under him, and from that point on his Kingsman training kicked in, took over, guiding his hand before his brain even thought of his next move. He was up, blocking punches and executing perfect round-house kicks to the face, using the chair legs as makeshift knives. But the minders were tough and wouldn’t stay down. His gun was gone, he needed one of theirs, he needed-
One strong arm around his throat, cutting off his air supply. He used his own weight as a counterbalance with the intention of taking them both down, but he was too late. The sharp sting in his neck felt like a hot poker sliding under his skin and despite the valiant effort, he didn’t manage to move the other man. But in the end he didn’t have to; he let go of his own accord, shoving Eggsy forward. So he turned on his heel, balled his fist, ready to plow it into that smug bastard’s face, but the punch never landed. He missed by a fucking mile.
“The fuck?” His focus went, the room started to swim before his eyes and he stumbled, “The fuck you give me?”
The Man’s face distorted, making his smile wide and creepy, “Something new I’ve been working on. Don’t worry, you’ve got some time yet.”
Eggsy staggered as The Man swept passed him, blindly reaching out for the nearest wall to keep him steady. The room stretched and waved around him like in a hall of mirrors at the funfair. Furniture lost it’s shape and became colourful blobs around him and he couldn’t keep anything in focus. Then his hands went limp. He fell against the wall when his arm gave out and he only just managed to get to the desk before his legs collapsed under him, rendering him useless on the floor.
Shit, shit, this was bad. This was very bad.
“Have fun with him, won’t you, boys?”
Oh shit.