fourth of july - eggsy unwin [REWRITING]

- III.

The incident at the bar had been resolved by Harry rather quickly as he took out the men with ease, not killing them but not leaving them unharmed, all while somehow not attracting attention to the pub despite the loud yells Lynn was sure people around could hear. He'd even managed to take out the bartender who was trying to call the police.

All while happily walking back and taking another sip of his pint, too.

It was both horrifying and interesting to Lynn. The way he was able to move with such ease, knowing what he was doing, being a professional at it. She still didn't know exactly who or what he was, but he was damn good at what he did.

After effortlessly taking out the men, and making Lynn and Eggsy promise they wouldn't tell a soul, he'd finished his pint and walked both Lynn and Eggsy out of the pub, ready to split paths. Admittedly, Lynn didn't wish to go back home. She actually would rather stay with Harry, or maybe even go with Eggsy to wherever he'd be headed, but she wouldn't admit it out loud.

Lynn kicks a rock out of the way as she and Eggsy stand awkwardly in front of each other, not wanting to make eye contact. “Thanks,” she says as she shoves her hands into her hoodie pocket, “for saving my ass, I mean.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Eggsy says, and once Lynn looks up she sees him smiling at her. She feels the corners of her mouth twitch at the gesture, not used to that sort of thing. “See ya around.”

“See you.”

Eggsy walks past her the opposite way she was going. She assumes he's probably going home by his demeanor, maybe stopping to finally get those Rizlas he was originally supposed to have gotten.

She lets out a heavy sigh as she blinks away the tiredness in her eyes, letting herself go on autopilot mode. To say she felt like shit was a severe understatement; she felt like she'd been dragged to hell and back. The police who had arrested her weren't exactly the most gentle, having pushed her against the car while screaming at her.

What would her parents say?

Probably nothing, honestly. That or they'd yell at her for being out for so long, accuse her of being a drug dealer, the normal stuff. She shrugs her shoulders to herself as she continues on her journey home.

But something felt…off.

Someone was definitely following her.

She spins around quickly to see a black cab driving slowly behind her. “Oh, the fuck do ya—” she cuts herself off as the cab slowly pulls up next to her, the window rolling down to reveal Harry in the back seat. “Want.”

“Please,” Harry says, “get in.”

What the hell? Lynn nods as she walks around the car and gets in on the other side, keeping space between herself and Harry. She bounces her leg up and down nervously as the car begins driving once again. “Nervous?”

“Did you bring me here for a reason?” Lynn asks quietly.

Harry clears his throat, “Right, where are my manners?” He takes off the glasses he has on and places them in the breast pocket of his suit, clasping his hands together. “I realized while in the pub, you looked like you were going to ask questions, but didn't.”

Lynn slouches down in her seat as she looks out the window. “Okay?”

“I know this is difficult for you,” Harry says simply. “I don't want to pry. I just wanted to ask if you…wanted anything clarified.”

She looks back over at him with an amused look, “What, it's not like you told Eggsy anything did ya?” She looks back out the window. “My brother's dead and he was a tailor. That's all I know. Didn't get one of those fucking necklaces or whatever. Think my parents hogged it for themselves.”

Harry gives a short nod. “I see.”

Lynn glances at him before turning and facing him. “My brother wasn't a tailor, was he? And you ain't either.”

“Would you like to go home?”

“No,” Lynn says. “Take me anywhere but.”

“Very well,” Harry says. “The shop, please,” he says to the driver up front, who gives him a nod. “While I can't exactly give that information to you, Miss Walters,” he says as he turns to her, “I can tell you have a lot of potential. My colleagues and I, more my colleagues, have been keeping an incredibly close eye on you.”

“And I'm sure you're about to go into a rant like you did with Eggsy, yeah? ‘Coz if so, you can shove it up your arse,” Lynn mutters.

Harry clears his throat once again, “Saving the lectures for later, I know what you're capable of. You may not act like it, but I've seen your test scores. I've also seen that you took self-defense classes, top of your class, is that right?”

“While I could still muster up the motivation to do something,” Lynn says quietly. “What’s your point?”

“You did that for him, didn't you?”

Lynn's head snaps and looks over at Harry, glaring at him. “No, you don't get to—”

“How would you like to partake on the most dangerous job interview in the world?”

Lynn blinks at him, as if she didn't hear what he said. “What…are you implying?” she asks with caution. “To be like my brother?”

Harry nods, “Precisely.”

She swallows nervously. “So, not a tailor?”

“Correct.”

“A spy?” Lynn asks, watching Harry's face for any sign of an answer. Hell, she didn't need one, she knew what it was, what she was getting herself into. Maybe this, this, could prove she could live up to her brother, fill his shoes. She could do what he did, whatever it was he did, and die doing it the same way he had to honor him.

“I'll do it.”

“Excellent,” Harry says, coincidentally the car comes to a stop at the same time. “We're here.”

Lynn looks out the window to see a tailor shop, the words Kingsman out on the window in gold letters. It looked incredibly fancy for her, too fancy even. Harry carefully gets out of the car, shutting the door and walking around to open Lynn's door. She freezes for a moment, taking a deep breath before stepping out. This was her life now.

She follows Harry inside, who walks past the man at the front desk and goes up a set of stairs and pushes open a set of doors that lead into a meeting room of sorts. There was a long wooden table in the dark green room, many paintings and photos all on the wall. It took her a moment to realize that a man was sitting at the table, looking through some sort of file.

“Percival.”

The man — she knows him now as Percival — closes the file in his hands and looks up. “Galahad. Is this her?”

“Indeed,” Harry, Galahad, says. “Miss Walters, this is the man who proposed you as his candidate for this job interview, Agent Percival,” he introduces as Percival makes his way over, holding out his hand for Lynn to shake. “You will follow his orders from here on out. Understood?”

Lynn looks down at Percival's hand before nodding, shaking his hand in return. “Yes. Sir. Yes sir.”

The corners of Percival's mouth twitch upward, not letting himself break out into a smile, as he lets her hand go.

“Please, Miss Walters, follow me.”