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( MEMES ) TEST DRIVE >> 7

Like it or not, you've been dragged from your world into the sanctum. It's a pretty nice city, all things considered--sci-fi, high-tech, glamourous.... Except, of course, for the giant dome encircling it, and the threat of glitching, contaminated zombies at your door. Looks like humanity's built itself a fortress that looks suspiciously like a cage, too. Toss in the odd memory blanks and the everpresent logo of Bifrons incorporated and it's enough to make someone paranoid.
The object of this meme is to get people familiar with the world of the Sanctum, and to try to see if their characters would fit in a sci-fi utopia such as this. Here are your options:
1. Intro: Waking Up. Make your intro post, folks. You wake up in a strange place, and get a strange transmission to go with it. There's a pair of glasses connected to some sort of communications network, but otherwise not much else in the room with you. What are you going to do?
2. Pet Adoption. Maybe you have the perfect genetically engineered pet in mind. Maybe you found a stray little escapee--do you keep it or turn it in? There's a reward if you let Bifrons know where the potentially dangerous little bugger is at, after all.
3. Alterations. Feel like you need an edge in the city? Find yourself injured and looking at options? Why not consider genetic alterations or, better yet, upgrading to a better, healthier you? Be warned, some of the side effects can be a little unpleasant.
4. Network Glitches. Strange garbled messages keep trying to come through in audio and text, but no way to track where they're coming from. Do you try to make contact? Compare notes with others? Surely it's nothing to be concerned about, right?
5. Dome Glitches. What was that in the window? There, again, in the bathroom mirror! Is that another you, living another life? Or maybe you spot an ominous shadow lurking around in the corner, something like a dysthrope but...worse. You're not going crazy, are you? Others see it, too, don't they? Oh, I wouldn't touch that reflective surface if I were you, or you might end up thinking you're living in that strange other world.
6. Outside the Dome. You're out and about without an armed escort, suited up against the atmosphere and dysthropes. It's supposed to be a green sector in this run down shell of what used to be a suburb, right? Nothing could possibly go wrong
7. WILDCARD. Choose your own adventure or create a cocktail from the presented options! The choice is YOURS.
Garry "Eggsy" Unwin | Kingsman: The Secret Service | Tags or Prose
So this was officially the strangest place Eggsy had woken up, and he had woken up some interesting places before. He was wary of the video that had been played for him when he woke up, but having just put down Valentine it wasn't the craziest thing he had heard either. At the least what the video was saying seemed to be partially true. If he was on Earth, it was in a place he had never even heard of. At least he had his suit and his glasses, though they weren't reading out any information like he was used to, and his umbrella. His outfit wasn't really made without his umbrella.
He was walking along, observing as he had been taught, making the mental notes he would later feed back to Merlin, if he ever got back in contact with Merlin that is. He thought he was being a proper gentleman, not calling attention to himself, blending and mixing, certainly one of the duller peacocks in the crowd by the looks of things. He swung the umbrella, whistling to himself, doing his best to figure out what the hell was happening. ]
Bar
Umbrella tucked against the booth on the outside within easy reach. Check. Legs carefully crossed like a proper gentleman, not out and open. If he had been in his street gear he would have, but he was in his suit and he just knew the tailor would make him bleed from one hundred different places if he ever found out. And he didn't want that. Blood was terrible to get out of clothing, he had found out. Glasses up and on, and the perfect pour of Guiness in front of him. For a moment he felt a pang for Harry, and he carefully raised the glass just slightly in an empty salute before sipping.
That done, he folded his hands in his lap, doing his best not to nervously play with the signet ring on his pink as he glanced around the bar, taking in the flittering habits of life, trying to discern how he fit into it, or his purpose in it. ]
Apologies for all the edits, a gentleman should not phonetag :(
If he turned around to look, he would be met by the back of one meticulously cropped head of silver-brown hair. That head would turn to reveal a pair of glasses not unlike Eggsy's own, and the shrewd brown eyes and easy smile settled beneath them.
It was all a little Ghost of Christmas Past, but was there a polite way to reintroduce oneself post-death? Appearing in good health after last rites and without a proper goodbye was rude no matter which way you spun it.
Apologies and explanations were certainly in order, but they could wait a pint or two.
It's all good! A gentleman also accepts apologies :P
Despite all his training, Eggsy nearly grabbed his umbrella and brained the man sitting behind him if for no other reason than it could not be.
The Kingsman spent so much time drilling in to the important of being a gentleman, all the rules and little manners he had carefully adopted unto himself over the course of a year. He knew them all, backwards and forwards. And yet they all fled at the sight of Harry. Harry alive. Breathing. Smiling at him from behind those damn glasses. His mouth hung open, fully agape like a stunned fish, unashamedly staring.
"Harry," he said, his breath a hard whisper, forcing the name out even though his throat felt tight, closed, like he couldn't breathe.
How gracious.
Still, Harry couldn't find it in himself to chide the boy when he looked at him like that. Seeing Eggsy in uniform he was torn between feelings of pride and guilt, but more powerful was the way his heart ached with relief finding his protégé alive and well.
"The suit fits wonderfully, you look every part the Kingsman. I'm glad I was able to see it."
He looked away, his eyes momentarily glassy behind the bulletproof lenses of his glasses, and cleared his throat.
"Come now, let's have a drink. We have some catching up to do."
Re: How gracious.
Eggsy's mind tumbled and whirled, trying to make sense of it all. Harry was alive. He was sitting here, just behind him, talking in that calm, cool way he did. The way that both infuriated him and calmed him and made him smile. He had spent hours listening to a recording of Harry during the down time between stopping Valentine and cleaning up the mess he'd left behind. He couldn't remember his own father, but he hadn't wanted to forget Harry, the man who had pulled him out of the gutter and made him so much more than he could have ever aspired to be on his own.
Shock gave way. Anger flooded in, smashing aside relief and leaving the fragments of it swirling helplessly in its wake.
"You got some fucking nerve," he hissed at the other, managing to remember to keep his voice low, not wanting to attract attention. "You... you fake your death? Was that it?" he demanded, his hand going to his umbrella, tightening around the handle, knuckles white as the words tumbled out. "Did you let us all believe you were fucking dead and make us taken on Valentine alone? Make us bury you?" Nothing in his life had ever been harder than kneeling before that headstone, so unremarkable even though the man whose memory he thought it honored had been the most extraordinary he ever knew.
"I don't need catching up, I need a fucking explanation."
He blinked rapidly, telling himself the burn at the corner of his eyes was his fury, not tears.
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Looking at the boy with his bright eyes, white knuckles and crisp suit was like gazing through a mirror and seeing himself thirty years younger... or the offspring he had never had, and certainly didn't deserve- Eggsy's real father among those he had lost.
His brow fretted and creased, lower lip worried between his teeth as Harry the man and Harry the Kingsman sat astride either shoulder and fought inside of his head.
"I would never abandon you, or the Kingsmen." His fingers fisted against his thigh, "That is what I know to be true. How I got here, and we're speaking at this moment? That is something I don't know."
He forced himself to be half the man Eggsy thought him to be and looked at the boy again, and this time he allowed him to see the wetness of his eyes and the sincerity in them.
There was a time and place for reservation and now was not it.
"I'm sorry. I failed you all."
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It wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough of an explanation. He wanted to reach out and shake the man, demand to know if he knew what Eggsy had been through, how he justified himself with such a pitiful excuse, with such weak works. But the logical part of him, the part of him trained by the Kingsman (by Harry) to think beyond his emotions, told him he didn't know how he had gotten here either. He had woken up in a strangle place and a strange room with only his suit and umbrella for comfort. And now here was Harry, telling him the same.
It wasn't nearly enough.
But it would have to be.
The part of him that was still just a young man finding his way in the world won out, his umbrella clattering as he stood and spun around the infinite space of the booths between them. His arms wrapped around Harry, his face pressing against his shoulder, glasses pushing up awkwardly, but it was probably for the best as the tears burned hot down his cheeks. His shoulders shook, keeping enough of his training to at least cry quietly, but whatever control he had was rapidly slipping as he felt the solid form of the other in his arms. Felt his warmth against the side of his face, smelled his cologne.
"You bastard," he murmured, trying to keep his tough persona even though he knew it was utterly ruined as he wept against Harry's shoulder.
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Christ. There was no tactic, manual or rule for this- at least none he would feel right following.
Harry was a lone wolf for good reason. His work was dangerous, and his work was his life. He had made the mistake of recruiting a good man with a wife and child once, and after experiencing the devastation caused by his loss first-hand Harry had quickly sobered to any whimsical thoughts of a family to call his own.
"I'm sorry, Eggsy." His voice was hoarse even to his own ears, and without thinking he found himself patting the boy's back. Soothing him on instinct, with no regard to protocol or training.
If this was anything like what it felt like to be a father he could understand why one might give up a life of jet-setting, intrigue and excitement to settle down and live mundanely.
Was it a blessing or a curse that placed them in the thick of things, side by side? Death on the job was inevitable. Eggsy was right for the role of a Kingsman, entirely worthy of both Harry's respect and trust, but...
He shook his head with a low, tired sigh. What was done was done, and he couldn't let the shock of his own end sway what he knew to be right.
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Eggsy was young. To young to have learned those lessons, despite seeing his competition being dismissed one by one, despite seeing Harry fall, despite the dozens of men he had shot. He had poisoned Arthur and watched him die, had ordered Merlin to make people's heads explode. He had killed in the name of saving the world, and even so he couldn't remove himself from the need for his family, for feeling like he belonged. Harry had made him want to be more, believed he could be more, and their last words had been spoken with anger and disappointment. Something he was sure would haunt him forever.
Until now.
Slowly Eggsy pulled away, gulping, getting himself under control. He tugged out a handkerchief and quickly wiped at his cheeks, though his eyes still glowed red at the edges. He seemed to debate making Harry slid further into his side of the booth, but finally turned to pick up his umbrella and arranged himself opposite the other man.
Neatly he folded the handkerchief, perfectly even, slipping it back inside his pocket, righting his glasses, resuming the carefully coifed facade all Kingsman wore.
"Well... we stopped Valentine," he said, as much an acceptance of the apology (unnecessary as it was) as anything else he could have done. He glanced at him, wondering how much to say, how much to tell him. "The world is safe for another day." His mouth twitched. "The headline was 'A Haunting at Buckingham Palace'."
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Was Harry getting older (and more sentimental), or was Eggsy getting stronger and faster? For the first time in his life he found himself struggling to keep up with someone.
His heart wasn't what it used to be, for better or for worse.
Harry composed himself as Eggsy did. Removed his glasses to politely swipe the lenses beneath the table before replacing them on his face, and shifted to sit with corrected posture. The tears would dry out of the quick-wicking suiting material in a matter of minutes.
"How quaint." He lifted his pint glass to his mouth and took a longer than necessary drink, silently praying it would turn to bourbon upon hitting his stomach. There wasn't enough beer in the bar to settle his nerves, or the sneaking suspicion of what Eggsy's participation in the Valentine fiasco truly meant.
"By 'we', who are you referring to, exactly? It's... peculiar to me that a junior agent such as yourself would have been directly involved."
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There's a long moment as the junior agent - well, now full agent, actually. The new Galahad. The sudden thought made him catch his breath and pause. Of course the title had been given to him, it was only natural he would step into Harry's place at the table, but it suddenly felt wrong with the other sitting across from him. Not only that, but he was sure what he was about to relate would break a part of Harry's heart. It had broken a part of his.
"I mean me, Merlin, and Lancelot," he said, keeping his hands in his lap to avoid drumming them on the table, forced himself not to bounce his knee or stuff his hands in his suit pockets and slouch. Prim and proper. A gentleman in all things. "We stopped Valentine." A breath, because how do you tell someone that a man they so looked up to, trusted, had betrayed them all?
"The other agents might have been around to handle it, but there wasn't time. Arthur... Arthur was working with Valentine," he said softly. "I bet Valentine got to him when he was there at the shop that day. I saw the scar, behind his ear," he tapped the position behind his own. "He tried to poison and kill me because I refused to agree to help him with Valentine's plot. I switched the cups and he poisoned himself." So Eggsy had killed him. It had been hard, but it was necessary, and at the time his anger had fueled him, and left the hollowness of betrayal and shock for later. "So I grabbed Merlin and Lancelot was the only other agent nearby, and we used Arthur's phone to get into Valentine's bunker and stop him." It had been much more than that in the thick of it, but he didn't want to be long winded about it, not really.
He glanced at the bar. Where was a waiter? Now he really needed a drink...
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He should have been there.
"I see." Harry's mouth went dry. The head of the Kingsmen, an organization born to act where the crippled and corrupt government could not, corrupted himself? He didn't want to believe it was true, but Arthur's betrayal was the final piece of the puzzle. It connected previously unrelated information and events and created a perfect, devastating picture.
To Harry's credit he didn't allow the sickness he felt inside to show on his face. The boy's burden was heavy enough, and it shouldn't have been Eggsy's task to take. He should have been the one to see Arthur's deception and deal with it accordingly, but loyalty and age had made him blind and complacent. No better than a greying dog of the crown or cabinet.
"You did right, and you did well. Don't let anyone tell you any differently." He knew it wouldn't assuage Eggsy's guilt, or make up for the high cost of his own ignorance- but it was the truth.
"You saved the world, and you've become a fine gentleman." He inclined his head with a genuine smile, "I'm... very proud of you."
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The sickness Harry felt was mimicked inside of Eggsy. He had taken no pleasure it what happened with Arthur. He still didn't. While he had not really known the man, he had been the head of the organization Harry had belonged to, thought he was worthy to belong to, and so Eggsy had looked up to him. After all, in mythology and legend, Arthur was the wise and great king. To think that their king had betrayed them, would willing send them to their deaths... it had crushed a bit more of his soul. He'd buried it with Harry, knowing he'd never get it back.
Soft eyes flicked to Harry at those last words, his chest swelling a bit. He felt the burn of tears again, bravely holding them back though his lower lip might have trembled the tiniest bit. Those words meant everything to him. Everything. He had been prepared to live his life never forgiving himself for letting Harry die disappointed in him, for failing him. To hear them now, when he had never thought to hear him again except on a recording in the lonely hours of the night...
"Well, as you once said, manners maketh the man," he smiled slightly at him, coughing to hide the sudden swell in his throat. "I got them out, you know - my mum and sister. I brought them to live with me in the new house."
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oh hay guiz, ok if I butt in on this reunion hella late?
Waking up? 83
Also noticeable, perhaps, is a man in a holographic suit following her. The suit behaves like a chameleon would-- changing as he passes various backgrounds, but it's clear he's there. And he has eyes for the woman in the dress, though he doesn't approach her outright. He follows eight feet back, hands in his pockets. She seems cheerfully oblivious to the attention.
Whoot whoot
He made his way through the crowd, slipping up beside the young lady, giving her a winning smile. "Excuse me, might I bother you for a bit of help? I seem to be a bit lost, and you seem to know your way around the area," he said, keeping a respectful distance from her.
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And now that she's not alone, he's turning around and starting to walk the other way.
"Shit--" Elizabeth is visibly torn. She holds up a hand to the well-dressed man, indicating he should just wait. "Hold on a second, right here--
"Hey!" Elizabeth shouts after the stalker. He looks over his shoulder, and Elizabeth is already walking towards him with a badge in hand. "Order of Justice, I need--"
He's not sticking around. He bolts. Elizabeth swears again and takes off after him.
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So he's taking off after her, umbrella tucked up and into his arm so as not to impede his stride. His eyes flick back and forth, looking for short cuts, alternate paths than trying to push through the wake of the fleeing man.
"Keep on him!" Eggsy shouted to the woman, darting suddenly to the right and up onto a high wall, sprinting down the narrow width of it to gain on the man.
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"Who are you?!" Elizabeth worked to keep stride, also trying to focus on where she was running and not look at her unexpected backup. The stalker decided last minute to turn into an alley, and Elizabeth sped up to follow.
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They were locked in a straight and narrow now, the alley long, and few other obstructions for the man to hide behind, not that he thought he would. He brought his umbrella around, snapping it up and twisting the handle to "Stun". He slid into a kneeling position, pulling a trigger hidden in the curve of the handle. There was a soft escape of air as the umbrella fired the dart, Eggsy snapping it closed and taking off after the man again, who fell down twitching.
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To say Elizabeth looks put out is an understatement, but she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Lips in a disapproving line, she pulls what appear to be handcuffs out of her clutch bag. "Think he can still hear me?
"Malik O'Heron," she says, approaching the smoldering suit. "I'm placing you under arrest for the kidnapping and murder of Gema Gammon, Katerine Laux, Rosette Ryen--"
Elizabeth was still five feet away when metal hoses burst out from under the downed man's body and lifted Elizabeth clean off the ground by her neck. This is, unfortunately, extremely new to even Elizabeth. She just barely manages to keep her neck from breaking by getting a grip around the two holding her up. Well, now she knows how he managed to overpower his victims.
As he gets up, he holds Elizabeth between him and Galahad-- that had been a fun trick, but he's not eager to repeat the experience.
"Drop your little toy, laddie," he says, more hoses wrapping around Elizabeth's waist to support her. A dead hostage was no hostage at all. "And your secretary won't--"
Elizabeth rams the heel of her shoe right into the fly of his pants.
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His eyes widened when the metal hoses burst out, even as a flash of anger ran through him at that stupid jacket thwarting the stun of his umbrella. That was sloppy work, very sloppy. Merlin would be horrified, not to mention Harry, may he rest in peace. He was making ready to put the umbrella down - there were other ways to get to the man without endangering the woman, finger already moving to activate his signet ring -
And then Elizabeth kneed the man in the crotch. Eggsy almost felt a moment of sympathy, but it didn't quite make it.
"She's not my secretary, mate," he told him, darting forward at an angle. He bounded off the wall and pushed his signet ring against the man's throat, releasing a 50,000 volt shock through him while he was busy trying to get his wind back from the shocking pain of Elizabeth's heel in his crotch.
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"Stand back--" she rasps. Once Galahad is clear, Elizabeth pitches the device at Malik and it expands into a blue transparent dome. Force field, similar to the one that kept her inside her cell in prison.
That done, she exhales sharply and hyperventilates for a moment. That had been too close for her comfort.
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Oh, that wasn't good. He looks around, trying to find something for her to breath into, but all he has is his pocket handkerchief. It was a poor replacement, but hopefully it might do the trick. He glanced at the man beneath the dome, but was sure that whatever that field was it could contain him for a few moments. The electric shock should keep him down and out for awhile yet.
"Here you are, miss," he said, holding out the golden cloth to her. She could breath into it, he hoped, simulate a bag. Even if there was one out here in the alley, he wouldn't dream of giving it to her. Who knew where it could have been? "You all right? He was a bit rough with ya', though you got a hell of a kick." He smiled a little, pushing his glasses up his nose.
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"Thank you," she wheezes, taking the handkerchief from him. Long time since she's seen one of them-- and she gives it a hesitant little sniff before holding it over her nose and mouth to breathe for a few seconds. Once she's done, she pulls it away and nods.
"Bruised but I'll live," she looks over at the detention field again and rifles through her bag before producing what appears to be a simple two-way speakerbox system. "This is DeWitt, I have suspect in custody, please extract from my coordinates."
Pause, then the affirmative came over the line. More breathing into the handkerchief.
"...Galahad? Really?"
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"Are you an officer then?" he asked, looking to the two way communicator she had and back at the man they had stopped. Well, he knew he had a wrong feeling about him. Looked like he was right. But if she was an officer, maybe she could be of more help - like explaining what the hell was going on, why he woke up here. Luck was with him today, it seemed.
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