Kingsman: The Golden Circle

by Tim Waggoner

  Charlie laughed weakly. “Stupid fucking chav. The briefcase is useless to you without the access code.”

  “So give me the code,” Eggsy said.

  Charlie fixed Eggsy with a hateful glare and spit blood at him.

  “Only Poppy knows it.”

  “Then you’re no use to me, are you?” Eggsy paused for a moment, his features hardening. “For the record, Charlie, I’m more of a gentleman than you’ll ever be. But right now, it’s time to drop the ‘gentle’ bit. This is for Roxy, and Merlin, and Brandon… and JB. Night, bruv.”

  He gave Charlie’s head a fast, hard twist, breaking the man’s neck with a sound loud as a gunshot. Eggsy released Charlie’s head, stood, and walked over to retrieve the briefcase, his injured ribs protesting as he bent over. He gazed upon Charlie’s lifeless body for a moment. He expected to feel something—joy, relief, triumph, something—but he felt nothing. Charlie’s death wouldn’t bring his friends back. The man had just been another problem to be dealt with, and he had. The world was better off without him in it.

  Eggsy and Harry reunited outside Poppy’s diner, Eggsy clutching the red briefcase to his chest. Both agents looked the worse for wear, but they were still standing, and that’s what mattered.

  “Charlie’s dead.” Eggsy patted the briefcase. “And this sets everything in motion to release the antidote. We get the access code, we can save the world.”

  “Not trying to top you or anything,” Harry said, “but I just met Elton John.”

  Eggsy picked up a discarded pistol off the ground, while Harry chose a submachine gun. The two men exchanged nods and walked into the diner.

  * * *

  Poppy had set up an office space for herself in the diner, and she sat calmly behind her desk, watching as Eggsy and Harry approached. Eggsy noted the huge metal machine behind the diner’s counter, but he had no idea what it was for.

  “You might as well come in, boys,” Poppy said. “Just the three of us left now.”

  They trained their weapons on her.

  “Give us the code,” Harry demanded.

  “Or what?” Poppy said. “Surely you’re not the kind of gentlemen who’d hurt a lady?”

  Harry arched an eyebrow. “Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t see genocide as terribly ladylike.”

  Still, both he and Eggsy placed their guns on the counter. Eggsy set the briefcase on the desk in front of Poppy and opened it, revealing a keyboard.

  “Don’t bother trying to crack it,” Poppy said. “It’d take over seventy-two days. I had my security experts try it.”

  “Enough small talk,” Eggsy said. “Just give us the code.”

  Poppy smiled, got up from her desk, and sauntered over behind the counter.

  “I don’t think so,” she said in a sing-song voice. “I’ve been trained in interrogation resistance. For example, you could try this…”

  She placed the palm of her right hand on the grill. There was a loud sizzle and wisps of rising steam, but her face showed no sign of pain. She smiled serenely.

  Eggsy and Harry exchanged looks. Poppy was even crazier than they’d thought.

  “There’s really no point,” she smiled. She paused to sniff the air. “Is it just me or does that smell kinda delicious?”

  She tried to pull her hand from the grill, but it was stuck. She grabbed a spatula, slid it under her hand, jiggled it around, and finally freed her half-cooked hand.

  “Or you could try this.”

  She flipped on the industrial-sized mincer, and as the blades began to whirl, she moved her burnt hand toward it.

  “Don’t bother,” Eggsy said. “We read your file.”

  “We came prepared for even this scenario,” Harry said.

  For a moment, it looked like Poppy was going to shove her hand inside the mincer anyway. But then, seeming somewhat disappointed, she switched off the machine and came out from behind the counter.

  “Oh really? What do you suggest we do?”

  Harry rushed forward and pressed Poppy down on the counter. Eggsy reached into his inner jacket pocket and removed the velvet box Merlin had given him. He opened it to reveal a syringe filled with amber liquid. He took the syringe from the box, plunged the needle into Poppy’s neck, and injected the contents. He then tossed the empty syringe onto the counter.

  “Heroin,” Eggsy said grimly. “Where I come from, this shit you’ve been peddling has ruined a lot of lives. But yours is even more deadly.”

  “Our colleague Merlin, may he rest in peace, managed to synthesize your horrible little formula and speed up its effects.”

  Patches of blue rash immediately erupted all over Poppy’s body.

  Harry released his hold on Poppy and allowed her to stand.

  “I’d say you have a little under eight minutes before paralysis sets in and you stop breathing. But of course you know all about that.”

  “So here’s the deal: you release the antidote worldwide, we make sure you get a dose too.”

  Poppy smiled sleepily as the heroin began taking effect, and she slurred her words as she spoke.

  “Ooh, clever… veeery clever. I have to give you the code to live. So smart! I love it. Darling, you should work for me.”

  “Just give us the code,” Eggsy said.

  Poppy’s eyes were half closed, as if she were on the verge of drifting off to sleep.

  “Ah, why not?” she said. “Decree’s getting signed soon anyhoo… It’s ‘Viva Las Vegan’. Get it? Viva Las Veg…” She smiled at Eggsy, and rose unsteadily from her chair. “Mmm, come snuggle with me. C’mon.”

  She reached out to Eggsy with both arms, as if she wanted to embrace him, but then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed to the floor. Her body twitched a couple times, and then fell still.

  The sensors in their eyeglasses read Poppy’s vital signs, or rather, the lack thereof. “She’s OD’d!” Harry said. “You gave her too much!”

  Eggsy gazed down at Poppy, surprised. He wasn’t particularly sorry she was dead—after all, she’d been responsible for the deaths of who knew how many people—but he hadn’t intended to kill her.

  “Did I?” he said. “I really don’t have as much experience with all this drug stuff as everyone thinks. That better be the right code.” He stepped over to the briefcase to enter the code, doing a passable Elvis Presley imitation as he sang, “Viva Las—”

  He broke off as a loop of rope dropped over Harry’s head and tightened around his neck. Harry immediately reached up to try and free himself, but the rope was too tight. He could still breathe, but only just.

  “Viva… Lasso?” Jack said.

  Eggsy turned to see Jack Daniels aka Agent Whiskey standing there, gripping the lasso’s handle, thumb resting lightly on its button. In his other hand, he held a sixshooter, and he had it aimed at Eggsy.

  “Don’t move, kid,” Jack said. “You go near that case, I turn this thing electric. You saw me cut that cable car line. Give up your guns, fellas. Slide ’em on over.”

  Eggsy picked up their weapons by the barrels, knelt, and slid them across the floor toward Jack.

  He straightened. “Whiskey, listen to me. We’re all on the same side. You had a head injury. This is exactly what happened to Harry. You’re having some kind of… brain glitch.”

  Jack gave Eggsy a smug smile. “Nope. My brain’s all good, kid. And I reckon the same was true for him.” He nodded at Harry. “Fine instincts, I’ll give him that. So stay still or I’ll dice him up small enough that you can take him home in a bucket and still have room for what’s left of your buddy Merlin.”

  “So you were—” An idea struck Eggsy. “Oh, that’s just fucking great. You work for the president?”

  Jack moved toward the desk, pushing Harry ahead of him, keeping close watch on Eggsy as he went.

  Jack sneered. “That asshole? No. It’s a matter of personal principle, Agent. I believe Champ backed the wrong horse. Let these people live, and the drug problem stays alive with
’em. Know what a legal drug trade would do to the Statesman share price?”

  “Those are your principles?” Eggsy said, anger building. “Making money? Our agencies were founded to uphold peace. Protect the innocent.”

  “Wanna know who was innocent? My high-school sweetheart, Lela. Love of my life. Pregnant with my little boy. He’d be about your age now… if his momma hadn’t got caught in the crossfire when two meth-heads decided to rob a convenience store.”

  Eggsy remembered what Jack had told him on the Statesman jet: how Champ had helped him through a rough time some years ago. Lela’s death was what Jack had been talking about.

  Jack continued. “You break the law, you pay the price. Good riddance to all of them. That’s why I gotta destroy the case. Now slide it over.”

  Eggsy did as Jack asked.

  “You know, Harry, I think he has a bright idea.” Eggsy made eye contact with Harry, and an unspoken message passed between them. Harry reached up and took hold of the rope around his neck.

  Eggsy raised his watch, tapped a control, and a burst of light shot toward Jack, momentarily blinding him.

  Harry pulled the loop over his head, took hold of the rope, and flung the loop toward Jack’s gun hand. The loop tightened around the American agent’s wrist, and Harry yanked. Jack lost his grip on his six-shooter, and it flew out of his hand. It struck the diner’s tiled floor and skittered away.

  Jack recovered quickly. He shook the lasso off his wrist and spun the rope over his head, allowing the loop to widen. Electric energy coruscated along the length of the rope as Jack activated its most deadly function, and then he flung the lasso toward Eggsy. Eggsy jumped through the loop without coming in contact with it, and Jack swept it to the side, slicing through the metal supports of the stools at the counter as if they were no more substantial than air. He then swung the lasso back toward Eggsy and Harry, who had to duck quickly to avoid being decapitated in similar fashion.

  Harry rushed forward and delivered a sharp punch to Jack’s gut. The breath whooshed out of the American’s lungs, and he lost his grip on the lasso handle. The instant it left his hand, the electric energy winked out, and the rope retracted back into the handle. Harry tried to reach for it, but Jack swung a punch at him and connected with his jaw, staggering him. Instead of following up, Jack dove to the side, not toward the lasso handle—Eggsy stood too close to it—but toward his gun. He hit the floor, grabbed hold of the gun, rolled to his feet, and started shooting.

  Eggsy raised his arm in front of his head so his bulletproof suit would protect him, and ran toward Jack. He kicked the gun out of Jack’s hand and tried to hit him, but Jack managed to block the blow with his left arm and strike at Eggsy with his right. Eggsy blocked that blow, and then the two agents began fighting in earnest, throwing punches and kicks, blocking as many as they landed. Jack eventually grew tired of this game, and he drew a knife and swiped it toward Eggsy’s midsection. Eggsy jumped backward just in time to avoid disembowelment, the blade only slicing through his tie.

  Harry stepped in and cracked Jack on the jaw, and when Jack swung the knife toward him, Eggsy moved forward and hit him from the other side. Jack turned and hurled the knife at Eggsy, but Eggsy dodged to the side and the blade whistled past him. It flew over the counter and struck the mincer, activating it.

  The entire time Jack had been fighting Eggsy, he had managed to move closer to his lasso handle, and now he snatched it off the floor and activated its whip function. No electricity this time, though. Eggsy figured a device that small couldn’t hold much of a charge and the battery was dead. But Jack didn’t need a fancy light-saber lasso to be dangerous. He flicked the whip toward the gun Eggsy had discarded, and when the tip wrapped around it, he yanked the weapon toward him and caught it with his free hand. He then spun toward Eggsy and lashed out with the whip again. This time it coiled around Eggsy’s neck, choking him. Eggsy’s eyes went wide, and he clawed at his throat, trying to loosen the whip, but he couldn’t get his fingers beneath it. The coils were too damn tight.

  Harry started toward them but Jack aimed the gun in his direction and started firing. Harry ran toward the counter and dove over it to seek cover. He saw a meat cleaver next to the stove, and he snatched it up, spun around, and hurled it toward Jack. Jack leaned to the side, and the cleaver passed through the space where his head had been a split second before. Jack’s gaze fastened on the mincer, and a dark look came into his eyes. He threw the whip handle toward the mincer, and it flew through the air and fell inside. The machine began its work, grinding and chewing, and as bits of leather began to shoot out from the front, the rest of the whip—with Eggsy attached—was pulled toward the terrible device. Eggsy grabbed hold of the whip and yanked, but it did no good. He couldn’t break free from the mincer and continued to be drawn inexorably toward it.

  Jack watched Eggsy’s progress with a cruel smile. Harry took advantage of the man’s distraction to run forward and make a grab for his gun. Jack resisted, and the two agents struggled over the weapon as the mincer drew Eggsy ever closer to its whirling blades. Soon Eggsy was behind the counter, the mincer only several feet away, and still it drew him onward toward what promised to be an agonizing, messy, and hardly dignified death.

  Finally, even though Jack still had hold of the gun, Harry managed to aim it in the direction he wanted, and he placed his hand over Jack’s and pressed the man’s finger against the trigger. The gun fired and the bullet sliced through the whip, freeing Eggsy less than a foot away from the mincer. Without Eggsy’s weight holding it back, the rest of the whip was sucked into the machine and instantly reduced to tiny shreds. Eggsy pried the coils from his neck and threw them to the floor.

  “Eggsy!” Harry shouted.

  Eggsy turned to see Harry grab hold of Jack and throw him into the air toward the mincer. Eggsy jumped up, and just as Jack passed overtop the mincer, he kicked the fucker into the machine.

  * * *

  Jack screamed as the mincer’s rotating blades caught hold of his flesh and pulled him inward. The machine’s inner workings whined in protest as they struggled to process the Statesman who was, after all, a muscular man, but the mincer was top of the line and in the end it got the job done. Jack’s cries were silenced, and a few moments later, threads of raw meat began piling onto the metal tray.

  “Put alpha gel on that, dickhead,” Eggsy said, and then turned to Harry. “I’m so ashamed I didn’t believe you,” he said. “I even saved his life…”

  “A Kingsman takes a life only when he believes it is justified,” Harry said, smiling. “And you, Eggsy, are a true Kingsman.”

  He had retrieved the briefcase, and he now opened it, and held it out to Eggsy.

  “There are several hundred million more still to be saved,” he said. “I think that honor should be yours.”

  Eggsy nodded. He placed his fingers on the keyboard and typed VIVA LAS VEGAN. An instant later, a confirmation message appeared on the screen. INITIATING ANTIDOTE RELEASE.

  * * *

  Thousands of antidote-carrying drones were immediately deployed. They swarmed throughout cities and towns across America, and within less than an hour, police, paramedics, and military personnel began administering the antidote to frozen people on the street. And when those people recovered, they joined the effort to administer the antidote to others. Joyous families hugged one another in hospital ERs the world over.

  In Ginger’s lab, she opened the lid of a cryogenic unit and clouds of icy air billowed out. Tequila lay inside, wearing only a medical gown, his skin covered with blue rash. Ginger quickly administered the antidote, and within seconds the rash began to subside. Tequila’s eyes flickered open and his gaze focused on her.

  “What happened? Did I miss something?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Yeah. From now on, stick to booze.”

  In a London flat, Jamal grinned as the blue patches on Liam’s skin faded and his friend began to move again.

  And in an apartment in
Sweden, Tilde’s parents rejoiced as their daughter unfroze and hugged the relieved pug puppy next to her.

  Tilde’s phone rang, and her father picked it up. The words EGGSY CALLING appeared on the screen. Tilde, moving with surprising strength and speed for someone who had only moments ago been courting death, snatched the phone out of her father’s hands and answered it.

  And in the White House Press Briefing Room, a fully recovered—and freed—Fox Nouvelle stood at a podium addressing reporters.

  “The president actively sanctioned the deaths of hundreds of millions of civilians and lied to the public,” she said. “I am proud to be responsible for his impeachment, and I promise to work toward a smooth transition of power.”

  Kingsman Distillery, Kentucky

  Inside the Statesman boardroom, Eggsy, Harry, Tequila, and Champ sat at one end of the long wooden table. Ginger—as tech support—stood close by. Champ poured them all glasses of Scotch from a bottle labeled KINGSMAN SINGLE MALT and handed one to each of them.

  Harry raised his glass. “To Merlin.”

  The others raised theirs, and they all drank—except Ginger. She merely held her glass with both hands and stared into its contents.

  Champ gave her a sympathetic look before turning to Eggsy and Harry.

  “In honor of this historic day, we’ve acquired a single malt brewery in Scotland. It shows the world that Kingsman has now joined the liquor business. Before, we were cousins. Now, we’re brothers, working side by side. All our resources are yours. You can rebuild.”

  “Yup,” Tequila said, grinning. “You’re gonna be shittin’ in high cotton.”

  Champ looked at Tequila—who was wearing a simple shirt—and frowned.