Plenty of Londoners waxed poetic about their city. They claimed to enjoy its large population, the history that permeated its walls and the dark waters of the Thames.

To Ian Meyer, their opinion was nothing short of absolute lunacy.

Often he wondered why he kept coming back.Every weekend was the same- depart Croydon on a train bound for Central London, delve into the jostling crowds filling the tube within the dark depths of Victoria Underground Station, exit at Sloane Square, and then trudge the rest of the way to his uncle Noel's to stay the night. Of course, if Noel hadn't provided a place to stay, Ian felt he'd be happy never to return. He figured he could learn to love the city over time, but for now all that drew him back were Noel's invitations. That, and the chance to get away from his father's shop for a while. Working from dawn to dusk every weekday was tiring, even when there were few customers about.

That wasn't to say that visiting Noel involved less work. In fact, in a way it consisted of more. Standing behind a cash register and unpacking products from their boxes required significantly less brain activity than the engineering projects on which Noel always requested his help. Ian had lost track of the afternoons and nights they'd spent slaving away over computer hardware. However, he found the work at Noel's to be far more enjoyable — it engaged his mind at least. Many a time he'd even considered asking Noel for a job, if he only knew what exactly Noel did. Though it was clearly something to do with technology, Noel had never named his specific occupation in conversation, with Ian or any other member of the family.

The oft-thought verdict rose in Ian's mind as he made his way down Cliveden Place- Whatever Noel does, it certainly pays well enough. He tried to suppress the sense of discomfort that followed- surely Noel had his reasons for staying in such an affluent neighborhood, while his sister's family made their home in a less-than-desirable area. He was under no obligation to help them out, and would likely be refused if he were to offer.

It still doesn't feel right, though…

No. Ian quickly shook the thoughts away. There were more important matters to focus on- such as his route. Cross the street onto Eaton Terrace, take a right to reach the mews, and make sure to avoid eye contact with anyone along the way. When Noel's building came into view, Ian breathed a small sigh of relief and quickened his pace. He stepped up to the front door and gave it a knock.

Presently the door swung inward, revealing Noel- a quiet, pale man even taller and thinner than Ian, with thick, dark brown hair swept carefully behind his ears. Immediately Ian spied something off about Noel's appearance- his ever-present wire glasses were mysteriously missing.

"Ian, come in," Noel said mildly, a polite smile touching his face. Obligingly, Ian did so, hanging his jacket up on the rack by the door.

"How was the trip?" Noel asked, as he always did, but this time Ian detected… absence in his voice. He didn't seem entirely focused on the query, slipping into the kitchen without so much as a glance at Ian. Ian pondered this behavior for a second before replying.

"A drag, as usual. Talking loudly on the train should honestly be against the law. There's no reason why a person sitting all the way at the front of the carriage should be able to hear conversation from the very back. Especially when it's all about the shocking night you had, and where you went with what person." Ian settled onto the sofa and stretched, unlocking his frozen muscles. "Please spare an innocent bystanderthe details."

Noel popped his head out from the kitchen. "And you didn't murder them? Your self-control astonishes me."

"There were a couple of other people in the carriage," Ian replied. "I couldn't have gotten away with it." He lifted his head and watched as Noel briefly disappeared, then reappeared carrying a tray with two steaming mugs on it. He placed the tray on the table, and Ian reluctantly heaved himself up from his seat and went to sit across from Noel.

"I'm surprised you made it to your seat without your glasses," Ian joked, though he was truly curious as to what Noel was doing without them. "Did you break the lenses or something?" He picked up one of the warm mugs, breathing in the calming scent of herbal tea.

Noel grumbled wordlessly as he reached for his mug. "I may have. They don't appear to be functioning properly." He sipped his tea and carefully set the mug down. "If you wouldn't mind, Ian, I'd greatly appreciate your taking a look at them."

Ian concealed his confused frown with his mug. Functioning properly… What an odd way to describe glasses. How could Noel not know if he had broken them or not? Cupping the mug in his hands, Ian sipped from it to try and quell the feeling that something felt out of place. What could Noel possibly mean by functioning?The warm liquid slipped down his throat, loosening his nerves- but the apprehension didn't leave him.

"I wouldn't mind," Ian answered in a neutral tone, looking down at his tea instead of over at Noel. "As long as you can find them first."

"Hey now," Noel said, rising from the table. "My vision isn't as bad as yours, remember." He walked out of the room, presumably on his way to find his glasses, and Ian leaned back in his chair. In Noel's absence, the air was… clearer, somehow. Less charged. Even Noel's stance as he left the main room indicated that a wave of relief had washed over him. Something was different today.

Or maybe I'm overthinking…

Noel returned with his glasses in hand. Immediately he passed them over to Ian, who could no longer disguise his frown as he took them. "I don't see anything wrong with the lenses. What's the problem?"

"Try putting them on," Noel responded as he sat down. Ian waited, peering curiously at the spotless lenses and the wire frame, but when no more suggestions seemed forthcoming from Noel, he pulled his glasses off and slipped Noel's on.

Instantly Ian's vision changed, but not just in the warped way associated with wearing glasses with a different prescription. Letters formed before his eyes, blinking steadily in time- LIVE TRANSMISSION.

Ian ripped the glasses from his face, leaving the world a blur. He put his own glasses back on and stared at Noel, just to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The words had vanished. Ian lifted the glasses to his face and gave their lenses a careful, thorough inspection. There's nothing written on the lenses… They're perfectly clean… Yet he couldn't find anything to indicate they had the recording technology their letters implied.

Only one way to find out. Once more Ian switched his regular glasses for Noel's, and once more the letters came flashing at the bottom of the lenses.

LIVE TRANSMISSION…

LIVE TRANSMISSION…

Across the table, Noel's calm expression did not change, but he leaned forward in his seat, watching Ian expectantly. In return, Ian avoided his gaze, slightly uncomfortable.

Is this- is this some kind of test? The strange thought crept into his mind and made itself a home there. Noel had given the glasses to Ian for a reason- he had to be aware of the words that Ian would see. And he certainly seemed to be waiting for a reaction. All Ian had to do was figure out what Noel wanted from him.

If these glasses were transmitting footage, there had to be a way to turn that function off. Ian reached up and felt along the side of the frame, searching for any kind of button or switch. His fingers soon came across a raised bump, miniscule and undetectable by sight. Ian pressed it, and jerked as his vision changed. His view of the wall behind Noel had suddenly leapt closer, as if he had zoomed in on a filmed image.

"Good, you've discovered the zoom function," Noel said abruptly. He reached out, and Ian leaned over so that Noel could take the glasses off his face. "Bit useless when you're staring at a wall, but excellent for a night at the opera… or bird-watching, if you're so inclined." Deftly he pressed the same button and then another button, presumably zooming out and switching off the transmission function, while Ian put his own glasses back on and tried to sort out what the hell had just happened.

It suddenly seemed like a very good time for tea, and so Ian grabbed his mug and took a long, steadying sip. "…Where did you get this technology?" he asked at last.

Noel took his time studying the glasses, then put them on before replying gravely. "I developed it."

A pause hung palpably in the air between them, and then Noel looked up at Ian, the dead-seriousness in his eyes confirming the truth of his words. "I know you've always wondered about my job."

Ian nodded without even registering the movement. "Not even Mum knows…"

"There's a good reason for that," Noel said. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead before continuing. "Ian, you may know me as your recluse uncle Noel who likes to tinker with computers. That's really only half of who I truly am. At work, I'm known as Merlin. I supervise field agents and provide them with necessary tech for their missions."

Field agents? Missions? Ian found it hard to comprehend the words coming out of Noel's mouth. He couldn't be saying…

"You're… are you part of some… spy network?"

"An intelligence agency," Noel corrected. He smoothly lifted his mug to his lips and sipped. "Unconnected to any government. We're called Kingsman. We own and operate from a shop on Savile Row."

"You're joking," Ian breathed. But he knew in his heart- and from the shake of Noel's head- that he wasn't. The evidence was sitting on the bridge of Noel's nose, clear as day.

All Ian could think was to ask, "Why did you wait this long to tell me about it? Why-"

"Why did I tell you at all?" Noel finished for Ian. He leaned back into his chair and gazed upwards, his hands clasped together on the table. "I was getting to that. Ever since you've started visiting me, I've planned to offer you an internship under me at Kingsman. Everything I've taught you has proven that you are capable of someday succeeding me. You have natural talent, Ian, and I believe that working at Kingsman would put that talent to good use."

"So-" Ian tried to say, but Noel shook his head to indicate that he wasn't finished, leaving Ian with a single unspoken question. So did you invite me over because you cared for me, or just because you wanted me to work for you?

"Last night we lost an agent in the field," said Noel. "Tonight, as per tradition, every remaining field agent will bring in their candidate for our recruitment process. If you're interested in joining Kingsman, I'd like for you to come with me to oversee the training program. And if you're comfortable with the idea, I'd particularly like for you to join the candidates during training, so you can gain the physical skills necessary should you ever be called upon for a field assignment.

"However, Ian, if you'd prefer not to be involved with Kingsman in any way, that's perfectly fine with me.I'm not going to force you into anything that you're not ready for. I want you to choose the path that benefits you." Noel stopped to take another long sip of tea, while Ian's head whirled, processing all that Noel had said.

"What happens if I don't accept?" he asked cautiously. Surely if Noel hadn't informed his own sister about Kingsman, he wouldn't trust his nephew either. There had to be some security measures in place to preserve the agency's secrecy.

"Ideally, nothing," Noel replied with his usual calm. "I know you well, Ian. I know that you would never breathe a word about Kingsman to anybody. This conversation won't leave this room. I would have to find another suitable candidate, but I don't plan on retiring immediately, so I've got plenty of time."

Another suitable candidate… Again Ian felt a twinge at the thought that he was expendable to Noel. But that thought soon passed, to be replaced with a new wonder- was joining a secret organization like this Kingsman really worth it? Considering how Noel lived, Ian wasn't sure if he wanted to push away his friends and family. Besides, to be closer to headquarters, he'd have to move to London, and hadn't he just been thinking this morning about how absurd that would be?

And yet, while Ian considered these plausible explanations for why he couldn't possibly accept Noel's offer, an image of Croydon formed in his head. A dull, static town where nothing had ever changed, from the moment his family had first moved there to the present day.

What was Ian doing with his life out there?

When Ian tried to conjure up images of his life, they came to him in the form of mental snapshots, revolving around two locales- school, and home. School, the more preferable option, consisted of attentively taking notes, hanging on every professor's word. School was drifting through the crowd of mingling students to reach his next class. School was a refuge, the only thing that genuinely ensured Ian's future.

However, with the onset of summer break, Ian's life was currently home. Home was the shop, where he stayed on his feet all day assisting customers and trying for whatever reason to merit his father's approval. Home was sitting at the kitchen table, helping his sister make it through the summer assignments that she desperately wanted to put off.

And sometimes, when Ian let it, home was the bar that he snuck out to in order to drink and to shag the man who refused to call himself Ian's boyfriend. But those nights did not come often enough.

All things considered, a voice whispered in Ian's head as he came to the unhappy realization, I don't have much of a life. Certainly not the type of life Ian had envisioned himself leading at this age.

In this case, distancing himself from his family was a much better alternative to spending the rest of his life with them, unable to escape unless they moved a second time. Besides, if Ian accepted, he'd be working alongside Noel. He'd always been a more promising coworker than his father, at any rate...

But before Ian could say a word, he had to voice the nagging doubt that lingered in his head.

"Noel…"

Noel said nothing, but he cocked his head to indicate that he was listening. Ian took a deep breath, realizing how silly and awkward the question was. To voice it was embarrassing- but Ian knew that if he didn't, the doubt would always remain with him.

"You… you didn't just invite me over because you wanted this all along, did you?"

Noel's rapt response nearly startled Ian with its force. "Christ, Ian." He half-laughed, shaking his head. "Where do you get thoughts like that? Of course that wasn't why I invited you over. You're my nephew, Ian- I want to see you every chance I get. You're family. Family is not something that's valued very highly at Kingsman, not in terms of blood relations. The fact that you exist makes me want to see you."

A weight lifted off Ian's shoulders the more Noel spoke, until it had vanished entirely. Ian straightened up in his chair and gave a small smile to Noel, wrapping his hand around his mug.

"Noel, it would be an honor to intern with you."

And thus his fate was sealed.