Kingsman: The Golden Circle

by Tim Waggoner

Merlin picked up a baseball and held it out for them to inspect.

  “Hand grenade,” he said.

  He put the ball back and picked up a baseball bat, or at least what looked like one.

  “Mine sweeper,” he explained. “The perimeter of Poppy’s base is the most deadly minefield I’ve ever seen, and the only thing Boris can’t help us with. The mines are fitted with robotic roaming devices, so they’re never in the same place… in case someone like Boris has ideas above his station.”

  He returned the bat to its place on the table.

  Merlin then produced a slim, oblong velvet box from his pocket. He handed it to Eggsy.

  “For the endgame,” Merlin said. “Eggsy, I’m entrusting this to you.”

  Eggsy nodded solemnly, took the case, and slipped it inside the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

  “And I’m entrusting this to me.” Merlin lifted a huge Bowie knife off the table and held it up. One corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile, and Eggsy could swear there was a gleam in his eye.

  Merlin put the knife down and led them into the plane’s bedroom cabin. There was a small closet space in the cabin with a curtain across it. Merlin pulled the curtain back to reveal fresh Kingsman suits. Three of them. Merlin removed one of the suits and held it up to him.

  “May I… ?” he asked, almost shyly.

  Eggsy and Harry exchanged looks.

  “Absolutely,” Harry said.

  * * *

  When they were ready, the three of them stood in Kingsman suits, umbrellas in one hand, briefcases in the other.

  Merlin spread his arms, displaying his new look. “What do you reckon?” he asked.

  “That Poppy’s gonna think we’ve come to do her tax return,” Eggsy said. “Just kidding. Looking good, Merlin.”

  Merlin called up an aerial map of Poppy’s compound on a wall screen, and the three agents studied it closely.

  “Here it is,” Merlin said. “Poppy’s HQ. Very, very remote. Dense tropical forestation all the way from the coastline.”

  “We parachute in, let the plane ditch at sea,” Harry said.

  “If Whiskey ever recovers, he’s gonna fucking kill us,” Eggsy said.

  * * *

  Tilde lay on the bed in her apartment, unmoving, skin covered with blue rash, the still-unnamed pug curled up next to her, whining softly. Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Tilde’s hair and crying while a group of doctors stood around, arguing with each other about the best way to treat their royal patient. Her father stood with them, listening to their useless debate and growing more frustrated with each passing moment.

  Everyone thought Tilde was unconscious, or if she was aware, that she still suffered from the strange delirium that was part of stage two. Either way, none of them thought she was really present in any meaningful sense, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. The true horror of stage three’s paralysis was that the mind of the afflicted cleared after it struck, leaving the victim fully aware but trapped inside their prison of a body. Tilde wanted to reassure her mother that everything was going to be okay, even though she knew it probably wasn’t. She wanted to tell her father to send the bickering doctors away, as they could do nothing for her. She wanted to reach over and stroke the puppy’s soft fur to reassure it. But most of all, she wanted to see Eggsy’s face one last time, hear his voice, and hope somehow that he would be able to look into her eyes and see how much she loved him, and how much she regretted that they were never going to have a chance to make a life together.

  Don’t think like that, she chided herself. Right now, Eggsy is out there somewhere, doing everything he can to save you—to save everyone! Have some faith! He’ll find the antidote, you’ll be cured, and then you both will be together again—forever.

  But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t make herself truly believe it. Her eyes moistened slightly, the most her body could do to produce tears in its current state. No one noticed.

  * * *

  Eggsy, Harry, and Merlin picked their way carefully through the jungle undergrowth, carrying their umbrellas and briefcases with one hand while holding sensor equipment in the other. Eggsy used the Statesman bat to sweep for landmines, while Harry and Merlin used handheld scanners to check for other security measures. The jungle was hot and humid but nothing the temperature-regulating properties of their suits couldn’t deal with.

  Eggsy had never been in a jungle before, but the place certainly lived up to its reputation. There was green everywhere he looked, and the flora was as numerous as it was varied—rubber plants, banana bushes, strangler fig trees, and many more. Colorful flowers accented the greenery that surrounded them, making this undoubtedly one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Poppy was like an infection in the heart of this paradise, Eggsy thought. Or maybe more like a venomous snake, coiled up and lying in wait for whatever prey was unfortunate enough to wander too close.

  Their progress was slow, but they didn’t have any other choice, not with the self-rearranging robotic mines surrounding Poppy’s compound. Eggsy only saw one of them move once. At first, he thought it was some kind of giant rainforest spider. The damn thing was a foot and a half, maybe two feet in diameter, a flat black disc with thin insect-like legs. It was a dozen yards away from where they were standing at that point, and Eggsy watched it scuttle about, seemingly at random, before it stopped, and flattened itself against the ground. Then it spun around rapidly, digging its own hole. Once it was down far enough, it stopped spinning, and its legs extended upward, pulled loose soil over it, tamped the soil down, and then retracted, leaving no sign the mine was there.

  That’s a nasty thing, Eggsy thought, and he refocused his concentration on the mine detector.

  Eventually they reached a clearing, and they saw the entrance to Poppy’s stronghold. Huge metallic entrance gates stood before ancient temple structures, a neon sign proclaimed Poppyland to the jungle, and—no surprise here—there were ten guards armed with Heckler & Koch submachine guns. The gate was open, so that was a stroke of luck, but there was no way they could get through without making one hell of a racket.

  Harry was thinking along similar lines. He motioned for them to retreat so they’d be out of the guards’ line of sight. When they’d done so, he began whispering.

  “This is where we split up. Pincer movement. Merlin, you’re with me. Eggsy, signal when you’re in position.”

  Eggsy nodded and started to head off, but when he took his first step, he heard a soft click and felt something give slightly beneath his foot. With a sick feeling, he realized what had happened. He’d forgotten to use the mine sweeper, and now he’d stepped on one of the bloody things. Despite his suit’s temperature-adjustment technology, he felt a line of sweat roll down his spine.

  “Don’t move,” Merlin whispered urgently. “You move, we all die.”

  The three men stood statue-still as the full horror of what had just happened sank in. No one did anything for several moments. Eggsy—afraid to so much as twitch a muscle—breathed as shallowly as he could. He began to tremble, and although he tried to force himself to stop, it didn’t work. If anything, it made him shake even harder. He knew there was no way out of this one for him, and he was about to tell Harry and Merlin to go on without him when Merlin slowly walked over to stand next to him. Merlin removed a can of Kingsman deodorant from his briefcase, and then looked at Harry.

  “Get clear,” he said.

  Harry moved a safe distance away while Merlin sprayed the ground around Eggsy’s feet. The earth turned white, crystallizing as it became icy cold.

  “On three, move,” Merlin said. “Ready?”

  Eggsy nodded.

  “One… two… three!”

  Eggsy threw himself forward and landed flat on his face. He quickly stood—frankly astonished to find himself still alive—and saw that Merlin had taken his place on the mine.

  Eggsy couldn’t believe it. “Merlin? No… No! What did you do that for?”

  �
�The spray only buys a split second,” Merlin said. “Even if we’d all got clear, it’d detonate. Poppy’s guards come running, none of us make it inside.”

  “Then spray it again and let me back on!” Eggsy said. “It was my fuck-up!”

  “No,” Harry said. “If it’s to be any of us, it should be me.”

  Merlin shook the can.

  “Empty. Go on, you two. Get going.”

  Eggsy couldn’t believe what was happening. “What? No, Merlin! Why?”

  Merlin smiled sadly, seeming far too calm for a man standing atop a deadly explosive device.

  “Did you ever have balloon debates at school, Eggsy?” he asked.

  Eggsy shook his head, unclear where Merlin was going with this.

  “You pretend you’re all on an overladen hot-air balloon,” Merlin continued. “Everyone is doomed unless one person goes overboard. And you debate who. You argue who’d contribute most to the world if they survived. There’s… no debate to be had here, friends. The mission needs the two of you. The world needs the two of you.”

  Eggsy refused to accept this. Merlin was a fucking genius, practically the wizard that his code name implied. He had to have a way out of this. Some sort of outlandish device that he’d cobbled together in Ginger’s lab, or maybe a bit of tech he’d “borrowed” from Statesman, something he’d pull out at the last minute and use to neutralize the mine. Then he’d grin, step off the inert device, and they’d continue with the mission. All three of them.

  But when Eggsy looked into Merlin’s eyes, he saw the truth written there. Taking his place on the mine was Merlin’s solution to the problem. His final feat of magic.

  “Besides, our journey together began many years ago,” Merlin added. “When your father did the same for me.”

  With a shock of surprise, Eggsy realized what Merlin was saying. He’d been on the mission when Eggsy’s father had sacrificed himself to save the lives of his companions, back when Eggsy was a toddler. Eggsy had known that Harry was one of those agents, and now he knew Merlin was too. Here was Merlin, doing the same fucking thing—sacrificing himself for his friends.

  “Merlin, no… please.” He turned to Harry, hoping his mentor would think of some miraculous last-minute method for saving Merlin’s life. But the sorrow in Harry’s one eye, along with the grim expression on his face, told Eggsy that Harry had no tricks left up his immaculately tailored sleeve.

  Merlin didn’t seem afraid. In fact, he seemed strangely at peace.

  “I’ve lived a great and full life,” he said. “But… everything Harry told you, Eggsy: he’s right. Will you… give Ginger my best wishes?”

  “Your best wishes?” Eggsy said.

  Merlin smiled. “All right. My… love.”

  Eggsy nodded sorrowfully. Merlin stuck out his hand for them to shake. Eggsy first, then Harry. When they finished, Merlin gave them a warm smile.

  “Go on, now,” he said. “Make me proud.”

  “It’s been an honor,” Harry said solemnly. He saluted Merlin, then touched him on the shoulder before turning away. “Eggsy. With me.”

  Eggsy gave his friend one last nod before turning and hurrying after Harry, sweeping the Statesman bat back and forth ahead of him. He didn’t bother trying to stop the tears this time.

  * * *

  When Harry and Eggsy were out of sight, Merlin considered his options, which, admittedly, were extremely limited. He wasn’t going to live through this, that was certain. But he wasn’t dead yet, and as long as he lived, he was still a Kingsman, and his fellow agents could use a distraction to help get them past Poppy’s guards. An idea came to him then, and he smiled. Why the fuck not? he thought. Might as well go out in style.

  He used the Bowie knife to slash the foliage around him until he’d cleared enough to make himself visible to Poppy’s guards. Then he began singing “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” belting out the words at the top of his lungs.

  * * *

  Eggsy and Harry hugged the walls of the temple ruins as they crept toward Poppyland’s main gate, each coming from a different direction. Ten guards… that was five apiece. Eggsy figured they could take them without too much trouble. Of course, it was going to be trickier without Merlin, but Eggsy couldn’t let himself think about the man right now. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted, not if—

  He paused as he heard Merlin’s voice coming from the other side of the clearing. It sounded as if he were… singing?

  Eggsy looked past the guards to Harry, who’d also stopped and was looking across the clearing, frowning in puzzlement. He turned to Eggsy and they shared a silent message. What the fuck?

  The guards must’ve been thinking the same thing, for they milled around nervously, as if unsure what they should do. One of them lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth and started speaking.

  “Poppy, are you expecting a visitor?” The guard stepped forward and peered into the underbrush on the far side of the clearing. “Another lawyer or… an accountant, maybe? An accountant who might be… singing?”

  Poppy’s voice issued from the walkie-talkie. “Singing?”

  She sounded incredulous, so the guard held the walkie-talkie out toward the minefield so she could hear more clearly. After a moment, he held the device in front of his face again.

  “Okay… that’s weird,” Poppy said. “Unless he turns out to be a threat, bring him to me alive. I’m intrigued.”

  The guard clipped the walkie back on his belt, raised his submachine gun, and headed in Merlin’s direction. He motioned without looking behind him, and two other guards started after him.

  Eggsy understood what Merlin was doing, and his respect for the man—already enormous—grew even further. What was more, he couldn’t believe that such a daft plan seemed to be working!

  * * *

  Merlin was putting everything he had into his performance as three guards approached. As they drew close, one of the guards pointed his weapon at Merlin and shouted, “Get down!”

  Merlin had been forced to discard his briefcase and umbrella when he’d shoved Eggsy, and they lay out of reach. So, without any weapons of his own, he knelt down—keeping one knee planted firmly on top of the mine—and waited. The guards moved forward and frisked him, and when they saw he was unarmed, they relaxed. Now that was over, Merlin resumed singing.

  One of the guards looked at the other two. He pointed to his head and then moved his finger in circles. The message was obvious: This guy is fucking nuts!

  Merlin launched into the chorus, and he sprang up and spun around on one foot, kicking out with the other as he went, delivering devastating strikes to each guard’s face—all without ever taking his weight off the mine. The guards fell unconscious one by one, and then Merlin came round to his starting position again and put his other foot back down on the mine.

  And he kept right on singing.

  * * *

  Eggsy heard the sound of Merlin delivering an ass-kicking, as did the remaining guards. Three of them exchanged silent nods and ran toward the minefield, leaving four behind.

  Thanks to Merlin, Eggsy and Harry’s odds of getting through the gate unscathed had considerably improved.

  * * *

  Three more guards came running up to Merlin, so intent on finding out what had happened to their comrades that they didn’t actually see the men lying unconscious on the ground until it was too late. When they were in arm’s reach, Merlin lashed out lightning-fast with both fists—one-two-three—and down the trio went to join their friends.

  Merlin continued his song.

  Seconds later, three more guards came running toward him, but they couldn’t fail to see six of their group lying unconscious around Merlin’s feet. They circled him, remaining just out of his reach, and raised their weapons. Only nine, Merlin thought. Oh well. Every little helps.

  He delivered the last note of the song in a glorious final flourish, and stepped off the mine.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alone guard rem
ained, and Eggsy and Harry left their positions and sprinted toward the gate. Just as Eggsy was about to take out the guard, a huge explosion erupted in the minefield. Eggsy felt the ground shake beneath his feet, and while the guard was distracted, he ran toward him, and laid the man out with a single devastating punch.

  That’s for my mate, you fuck.

  Eggsy and Harry locked eyes and paused a moment, honoring their comrade for all he had done to give them a fighting chance. Eggsy tossed a baseball grenade through the gate to cover their approach, and when it exploded they ran into Poppy’s compound.

  Unfortunately, they didn’t get far before the rest of Poppy’s private army—undoubtedly alerted by the explosion—came running from the various buildings that lined Main Street. Poppy’s stronghold looked more like an amusement park than a drug lord’s fortress, Eggsy thought, and the men and women who rushed into the street were dressed like employees of the businesses from which they’d emerged. Some were armed with conventional weapons—submachine guns, pistols, shotguns, knives—but some wielded objects that were more… unusual. The incorporation of the temple ruins into Poppy’s compound blended ancient and modern in a way that made the place look even more surreal. The ground was covered by centuries-weathered stone, and thick vines snaked across brick walls that formed sections of the bowling alley and the cinema, along with other structures.

  Harry unfurled his umbrella, and the AR display activated. He switched the weapon’s settings to LETHAL, and began firing as he walked forward. Eggsy, briefcase in hand, followed closely behind his mentor. He pulled another baseball grenade out of his pocket and hurled it toward what looked for the all the world like a donut shop, complete with a sculpture of a giant pink-frosted donut on the roof. The grenade exploded, and the donut sculpture detached and rolled off the building and onto the ground. It kept rolling, and Harry and Eggsy used it as cover while Harry continued firing, dropping Poppy’s guards one after the other.

  The donut picked up speed and rolled away from the main street, exposing them once more. A man rushed forth from Poppy’s cinema, shouldered a bazooka and took aim at them. Eggsy lifted his briefcase to his shoulder and tugged the handle a certain way. In response, a panel slid open and a small missile shot forth. A split second later Bazooka Guy disappeared in a spectacular explosion.