Chapter Text
“Duck fucking right, you worthless sod!”
“Yes dear,” was all Galahad, more commonly known as Harry Hart, could say.
Bullets whizzed past his head; the holdouts of this particular facility were, it seemed, armed and dangerous. Galahad ducked right, following his ornery handler’s orders to dive behind a conveniently placed bit of cabinetry. He had counted five left, and then he’d be able to blow the joint - literally. He had a pocket full of miniaturized C-4 explosives that he’d been dotting along the walls at various intervals for the last hour. Now, with only a few explosives left and only a few armed, terrified scientists in between him and a well deserved three-month vacation, Galahad was feeling fairly restless.
Kingsman had discovered a shocking human trafficking ring whose investigation had quickly become nearly agency-wide in its scope. They had discovered about 85% of the people that had been trafficked were used as drug mules or for the sex trade; Percival and Lancelot had headed up the missions to break those rings up. Bors and Kay had gone afield and retrieved as many victims as possible. But the last 15% had been used for human experimentation.
Kingsman was unsure as to the nature of the experimentation; something genetic by the minuscule shards of data retrieved from smoking craters that used to be research computers. The scientists who fled or were captured gave up no information, and they had sabotaged their own work in order to ensure that Kingsman couldn’t find out more. Any human victims had been disposed of by the scientists long before any Kingsman agent arrived, their remains finally sent home to the grieving families for closure once Kingsman was done with the facilities.
But this… this was the last. After nearly a year working this God-awful mission, Galahad was almost entirely done storming the final research bunker that they could ferret out. He huffed into his comms, and adjusted the glasses that had been settling against the tip of his nose.
“I need smaller frames, Merlin. These keep slipping.”
“That’s because you took Lancelot’s frames by mistake and his big head needs them enlarged every time he he exhales.”
“Mmm. Quite. Five to go then, Merlin.”
“Get on with it then. We’ve an entirely different mission for Lancelot to begin soon and he can’t go until you get home to relieve him.”
“So pushy, Merlin. Onwards, I suppose.” With that proclamation, Harry twisted around the corner and cleanly shot the remaining scientists who were incapable of finding cover in any meaningful way. Four he dispatched, the fifth he shot through the shoulder. Keeping one of the crafty bastards alive might endear him to Merlin long enough to earn some extra toys for whatever his next mission might be.
“Good. Secure him and see what you can get from the terminals. Locate and tag any remains for our retrieval team. They’re ten minutes out, so don’t blow the damned place until they’re done.”
“I have done this before, Merlin,” said Harry dryly. He’d been the lead investigator into the experimentation circuit from the very beginning; as one of Kingsman’s eldest field agents, Harry had seen more strife and turmoil than some of his fellow knights combined. With Chester King beginning to make small but noticeable waves about possibly retiring the mantle of Galahad in favor of a younger candidate, Harry was more than willing to take on what would surely be recalled as one of the worst missions in recent memory.
Still, he mused to himself as he set up the small USB device Merlin had given him to try and infiltrate the computer wreckage, if this was the state of the world these days, perhaps letting someone else handle all the pain and hardship for once wasn’t such a terrible idea. The computer system here was mostly intact; Galahad’s swift and brutal entrance to the compound hadn’t given the scientists much time to begin deleting and destroying their work. Merlin was muttering joyously in his ear at the data being streamed to his terminals at HQ, and Galahad made himself busy going through the security feeds and logs, checking which rooms needed to be tagged for the retrieval teams to assess for remains. So as he idly cycled through the CCTV feeds, he swore rather colorfully when he saw that one cell was occupied.
And by someone alive!
The cell itself was as barren and spartan as the others he had found. A metal frame bed, dingy mattress, sterile-looking metal toilet. But curled into the corner was a young man. He wore a plain grey tracksuit and nothing else. His bare feet looked as pale and monochromatic as the rest of the room, but his dirty-blond hair and striking green eyes shone like splashes of paint on a clean canvas. The young man stared intently into the camera’s eye, as if he knew Galahad was there. The cell, formerly as drab and grey as the rest of the place, bore signs of clear devastation. The metal frame bed was a twisted lump of melted steel and the mattress was the spring-laden pile of ashes beneath the organic sculpture of bed. The walls bore both scorch marks and the crackled, wiry twists of electrical damage. The cinderblock and steel walls had natal stress fractures, as if the rooms had contained a small, pressurized explosion.
Looking into the room through the camera, Galahad noted rather numbly that the scorches, burns, cracks, and fissures all seemed to emanate from the small form of the young man, his position in the corner relatively unscathed and unblemished. And this the young man stared into the camera.
Harry stared back. The young man was visually intoxicating, even despite the drab clothing he wore.
Merlin’s soft lilt in his ear chimed in as the image in Galahad’s glasses was finally looked at on the magician’s terminal.
“Fucking hell Harry. Is that a survivor? What the hell happened in there?!”
“To be rather honest, I have absolutely no idea.”
“Well go find out! If the lad’s got family out there we need to take him home. And even if he doesn’t, we need to get him checked out my medics at the very, very least. Perhaps he can tell us more about the experiments.”
“I’d rather not stress a clearly traumatized victim, if at all possible,” retorted Harry crossly.
“M’not traumatized.”
The young man’s voice rang like a bell through the tinny computer speakers. Harry’s eyes darted back to the screen. The lithe body that had once been curled into itself on the floor now stood in front of the camera, looking up into it.
“Can he hear us, Galahad?”
“Can you hear me? Are you alright?”
The young man’s face turned from a little eager, if mostly neutral expression into one of wry amusement.
“Kind of? Not like out loud. But yeah, I can hear you. And the Scot bloke in your glasses.” The voice that came through the speakers was a little throaty, accent betraying a council flat upbringing. But what drew Harry and Merlin’s attention to it mostly was that while the voice could be heard, the young man’s mouth didn’t move at all.
“ How exactly can you hear us, lad?” came Merlin’s voice.
“And what do we call you? I’m Galahad; the Scot is Merlin. We’re working on a way to get you out of there.”
The young man grinned again and shrugged up at the camera.
“M’name is Eggsy. Gary, actually, but I prefer Eggsy. Don’t know the science and that sort of thing, yeah? But I got snatched up somehow at a club. Beer tasted a bit shite and next thing I know, I’m in this fucking room dress up like this. Pretty sure I’ve been here about half a year now, give or take a few days since I don’t really know how long I was out.
“Second day here or so, bunch of lab coats, scientists you know? They come in and herd me out at arms length with tasers into some big room. Maybe a cafeteria or gym, something big like that. Had about twenty or so other folks there. Some American, some English like me. A few from the Continent. One really nice African lady. Gave us all jabs with something different. I got some kind of hot pink vial; the African lady got one that looked like a mint milkshake. Some of the folks…” The voice crackled off, like a radio losing reception, and on screen, the young man looked pained for a moment before his expression shuttered back into neutrality. He inhaled deeply and the voice crackled back into life over the speakers.
“Some of them died right there. About ten I’d say. A couple looked like they just had their power cords yanked. Few more kind of melted into goo? Over the next couple of months just about everybody except me, Sean, and Imari went and died. Nobody else got weird powers neither.”
“Who are Sean and Imari? And what do you mean, powers?” Merlin asked via the comms.
The young man looked thoughtful and nodded as if he hadn’t realized he had yet to mention the others.
“Imari was the African lady. I’m 24 by my count, and she must’ve been a good fifteen years older. Sean was one of the American blokes. Military, I think. He couldn’t talk after they jabbed him, like me. So, whatever they gave Imari let her pretty much become steam. Some kind of mist or fog. She floated out of here first chance she got and said she’d go looking for help. Got killed three months ago about two floors up by a laser net that I couldn’t get to since it was hand-deployed and not linked in to the building or network. Me, I can do all sorts of weird shit with electronics. I couldn’t make any noise after I woke up from the jab-fever, but I can do a bunch of other things. Mine seemed to be most stable too. Sean had some kind of telekinesis. Moving stuff with his mind? But the more he worked at it the more he got sick. He died about a week ago. The lab coats said it was cancer in his head. Scanned me inside and out and I seem to be fine. No side effects other than the initial fever and the talking thing.
“Oh, I don’t need you to open the door or nothing. I just figured I’d stay in here until you were done blowing everybody’s heads off before I came out without being able to explain myself and all.”
Eggsy smirked into the camera and Harry could hear a dull thud in the distance. Light shone into the cell and a panel in front of Harry started blinking red indicating a breach.
“I’ve been able to get out of here for months. But I didn’t want to leave Sean or Imari, and… after, I had to wait a few days to make sure I could nick enough food and some shoes and such to get further away from the bunker than half a mile.” Eggsy’s voice came in much clearer, and throughout the room Harry stood in, rather than just from the main console. “Pretty much anything non-violent I can do easily. It’s when I get frustrated or angry that things go… wrong. I tend to blow up… literally.”
“I take it the scorch marks and cracks in your cell were your doing?” Harry asked, hoping Eggsy could still hear him through the compound’s communications systems.
“Yep. Twisted the bed something awful when Sean died. Last couple of days the lab coats have been really fussy and nervous. I expect that's your doing? Riling them up with fears of getting shut down permanently?”
“Quite. You’re the only survivor of over 150 trafficking victims that were used for human experimentation. We knew they were trying to bother with genetic sequencing, but something like this was beyond our reckoning.”
“Well, suppose it’s good to know nobody else made it,” came Eggsy’s voice, the speaker system able to produce the grim emotion that played across the boy’s face. Harry tracked the young man via the CCTV cameras until he stood outside the command and research room Harry himself was in.
“Gonna let me in? Or do I have to blast this door down too?” Amusement registered across the synthetic voice.
“Right, I think this should do it.” Harry tapped a few keys and the door swung open, revealing the young electromancer behind it. Eggsy came in and shuffled awkwardly towards Harry. His face was an artist’s palette of emotions, though no sound came out of his mouth. His eyes were amused, though lines creased the boy’s tired face. The grey of his tracksuit did nothing for his complexion, and Harry could see the bruises of sleep under his eyes. But Harry thought he looked beautiful .
“Right. Medics are on their way in with the clean up team. They’ll be at your position in five minutes. What’s your name, lad? Do you have any family we can contact?”
The speakers crackled again as Eggsy replied, “Gary. Gary Unwin. Um, I’m from London? My mum and little sister should still be there. Dunno if they’re still around my stepdad though. Dean Baker is his name. Nasty piece of work, probably in prison by now.”
Harry’s stomach plummeted somewhere south of Hell as the young man answered.
“Gary Unwin? Lee Unwin’s son?”
The young man’s face went carefully blank, though his body began all but screaming suspicion.
“Yes. Who wants to know?”
“Fuck.” Merlin’s voice was dry over the comms. Harry could only sigh and respond equally as dryly.
“Mmm. Quite.”