"Hour Glass Project"
Harry's Prologue
1980 : Kingsman London HQ
"excitingly dull" that was the only description the man could muster, while seated across his fellow agent. Harry was to say a few words short from spilling the word 'bored'. He was a good agent, if not great. But the repetitive missions lacked the spark he felt on the first few months of his service in the agency.
"Harry you can't be serious! As of now you're the youngest agent that got accepted to Kingsmen as an official agent. Shouldn't you be a bit more hyped?" Lee uttered in perplexity. The man also known as Lancelot was Harry's superior by almost a decade.
He was an energetic man, in his early thirties. His blonde hair and blue eyes, seems to always get the ladies in his missions. But of course the unfortunate reality would always dawn on the woman, the last minute. He was gay. In fact he is particularly infatuated with a fellow Kingsman, codename Percival.
He has tried and failed to woo the man multiple times, with his Bondesque charms. But the stoic faced Percival never budges. No one truly knows Percival's real name, which has been an ongoing mystery among the knights. But the humour of the courting was always there.
Once Lee tried to give Percival a bouquet of sunflowers, a normal but cliché gesture. But the advance has gone downhill, after finding out that Percival was allergic to the pollen. Of course the thirty year old Lee had to scream for help, as Percival had a red blistering rash spread across his face. That was only one instance of Lee's courting over a six year period, and it seems that Percival doesn't mind the attention.
"Lee, I know you have good intentions, but the missions have become utterly boring." Harry muttered, as he elegantly crossed his legs before reclining on his back.
"even the honey pot with that stunner of a Russian?" Lee suggested, implying the youngster's most recent mission.
Harry sighed aloud and nodded. He has to clear this out, since it seems his orientation has been quite the topic of the other agents. He was a fit, youthful man, who used elegance as his charm. Sometimes he would break this elegance revealing a rouge appeal, that seems to get a lot of attention as well.
"Lee, if you may not have noticed, and I clearly see you don't. I am actually batting for you team." Sarcasm laced Harry's words.
Lee's eyes widened, he was not expecting that casual coming out from the young agent. In Lee's defence, Harry seemed to lean more on females. Not to mention his gentleman persona, that is often than not mistaken for casual flirting.
"well that's quite an uneventful information isn't it?" again with Harry's famous sarcastic witty remarks.
"Very." Lee commented in awe.
"does Arthur know?" Lee added whispering.
"I am not particularly inclined to parade my orientation and I prefer it to be a thing of rumours, nothing more. So no, I found her vainly boring." Harry said.
He wasn't particularly open with screaming his orientation, nor was he hiding it. If anyone asked him personally, he would answer truthfully. It was that simple. And it seems Lee is the first one who, unintentionally asked the question.
"Well if you don't mind, I have to finish the report Merlin has been cussing for." Harry uttered dismissing a dumbfounded Lee.
Lee obeyed the command, like the puppy he is and stalked off. Harry then drowned his attention on the stacked paper work he has to finish.
Harry finished the report touching 1 am in the morning. He hurriedly took his coat and ran home as fast as he could. He strut across the halls in record speed, passing a few goodbyes on the way out. He was then greeted by the driver of the black Kingsmen cab, as he entered.
"Where to Mr. Galahad?" The driver ask as an instinctive question, yet knowing their destination.
"Home." Harry uttered, before basking in the calm silence.
Harry entered his home warily by instinct, the silence was always eerie no matter how many nights he's stayed. He inherited the place from his predecessor who unfortunately died due to a .45 caliber. The old Galahad, Fredrick, was almost exactly like Harry. A prodigy of a young man, without any surviving family members. Both were from distinguished bloodlines, Fredrick's being close to the formerly ruling Russian Tsars. Harry being a distant relative of the English royals.
So it seems the only logical action upon Fredrick's death, was to give Harry the house and land. Which he added to the list of his properties. It's been more than a year since the hand over yet, the young Galahad hasn't felt comfortable enough to unbox his possessions. Leaving box upon box of his butterfly collections, original China and many more trinkets in their place for more than a year.
The only thing that he has arranged in his home is the study. Which is where he spends his time more than he cares to admit. As well as a kettle, a single tea cup and saucer was in the cupboard. Only four full suits were in the closet. It wasn't so gentlemanly of him or organized, he always reasoned he didn't have the time. But truthfully, he just doesn't have the heart to change or decorate anything in the name of his fallen predecessor.
Harry stayed quiet, waiting for the only thing to greet him. He soon heard little patters coming for him. Mr. Pickles greeted him with his presence and a wagging tail. It's been more than two years since he took the terrier home, Mr. Pickles has been the young man's constant companion. Harry patted the dog's head, scratching the back of his ear. The dog appreciating the gesture wagged his tail harder.
"do you want to go for a walk old boy?" Harry asked the dog, to which he tilted his head to the side before running off in the house.
Mr. Pickles came back with his leash, that he happily handed to his master. Harry hooked the leash on the collar, before he reached for his black standard Kingsmen umbrella. The two walked off, enjoying the breeze, Mr. Pickles leading the way. After an hour or so, it started to rain when the dog lead them to a very deserted park.
"Mr. Pickles!" Harry called for the dog, who approached him. Harry carried the dog with one hand, while shielding them with the umbrella. They silently passed the middle of the park, until the dog jumped off from Harry's cradle. Mr. Pickles ran to the light post, where he started yipping at a man. The dog barked at Harry to get his attention, the man did approach the stranger.
The man was hunched over, his cap covering his features. Harry stealthily positioned his umbrella, locking it at stun. It was a precaution he made, but usually subtly. The little terrier jumped on the man's lap, and started to lick his face.
"Excuse me? Sir! Sir!" Harry said as he lifted the cap off.
The man was young, about a few years Harry's junior. The young man seems to have fainted, the gent took his temperature. The young man had a blazing fever and fainted in the cold. Harry stood there deciding what would be his next move. But judging from Mr. Pickles reaction, they can't leave the man in the rain.