A/N: I'm really sorry this took so long, but the new term has started and it's been a few really stressful past weeks.
Chapter Ten: Crossroads 1
As he regained consciousness the third time, it was of his own accord.
He blinked, careful not to draw to much attention to the fact that he was awake. From his position on the chair he could make out the ugly man sitting on the table with a piece of cloth in his right hand. It was dirty with oil from cleaning the gun, whose parts were laid out on the table.
A Clock 99, with a carbone handle. Small weight, but well balanced for long and short distances. He was sure of it, although he'd not the faintest idea how he'd come by that knowledge. His memories were still blocked by a thick wall, unbreakable without the right inducement. At least the pain had subsided a bit, and all that was left was a throbbing headache and the general stiffness in his limbs. They'd most likely given him strong painkillers so he wouldn't pass out again, which meant a very thorough interrogation was coming.
Footsteps outside the door became audible and he quickly closed his eyes. While pretending he was still unconscious he strained his ears and listened to an unknown voice barking out orders. More men – probably guards from he could hear – were told to take positions and watch out for intruders. Someone had apparently triggered one of the motion detectors in the forest, whether incidental or on purpose didn't seem clear.
The voice was furious; obviously outraged about the fact that someone had found them. Without being able to define why, the prisoner felt relief and anticipation as if he was waiting for something. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Whatever was going to happen, he had a feeling it would be highly amusing to watch. Even when the voices subsided and a shadow fell over him his good mood did not waver.
The slap across his cheek was driven by anger and therefore poorly executed, causing only a slight sting in his jaw. Since feigning sleep would only lead to more drastic measures he opened his eyes and found the quiet man from before hovering over him. He wasn't obscured by shadows anymore and his face was close enough to study its conspicuous appearance. The scar that had been visible earlier was unusually straight and went from his corner of his mouth over his cheek to his left ear, making him look like he was constantly smirking. And not in a good way. Dirty blond hair was geled back, pronouncing his receding hairline. Another oddity was the dark spot stretching from his left cheek to his hairline, probably a result of a combustion that had never fully healed. His eyes, however, were cold and filled with the determination of a crazy man. All in all the quiet man couldn't be older than thirty, but who was he to tell. He didn't even know his own age.
The man scrutinised him for a moment, before suddenly reaching out to grab his throat and squeeze his airway shut. Out of the corner of his eyes, the ugly man leapt up from his chair to intervene, sending it to the ground with a dull thud.
"Sir –"
"NO!" The scarred man's voice thundered through the room, causing the ugly man to stop dead in his tracks. It was the voice he'd heard barking orders; the man behind whatever was going on in this god-forsaken building.
"No," he repeated. "Enough of the small talk!" He turned to his underling, looking at him like he was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen. "The information he holds about the fucking secret service isn't priority anymore. You failed and now I have others taking care of that who have a much higher chance of succeeding."
Looking like a beaten dog, the ugly man retreated to his place at the table. The question who his leader was talking about burnt on his tongue, but he seemed to change his mind in the last second.
The scarred man turned his attention back to his prisoner, his eyes almost glowing like coals. He pulled a vial out of his pocket and practically shoved it in the tied man's face. "Do you see this?! What do you know about this substance?"
It was a clear liquid that could easily be mistaken for water. The prisoner stared at it in fascination. The reflection of the shabby light of the room danced before his eye, like tiny stars, and he found himself unable to look away.
"You must have heard what they said about it!" the leader pressed, his voice had taken on a dangerous tone. "They found a malfunction, one very drastic anomaly and were about to bypass it. All you need to tell me is what the fuck you heard or I promise you'll wish I'd injected you a dose!"
He was without a doubt about to explode, but the prisoner was still captivated by the sparkling substance. He had seen it before; watery liquid in a vial, a syringe in his arm, the relieving dumbness in his limbs. Taking him away, to a place without pain, without suffering.
The ringing of a phone penetrated the silence. The scarred man pulled a smart phone out of his pocket and accepted the call. In a matter of seconds his face took on a dangerous shade of red as he listened to whoever was on the other end.
"Am I surrounded by incapable idiots?!" His voice echoed off the walls, and both the prisoner and ugly man shrank back in their seats.
The leader looked like he was barely able to suppress the urge to throw the phone against the nearest wall, his lips pressed into a thin line. Without another word, the scarred man pocketed his phone again and threw the vial towards the ugly man, who stood a safe distance away. It nearly slipped through his hand, leaving the catcher white as a sheet.
"Don't screw up this time, I need that information. Whatever measures you find appropriate, you may use." Giving his prisoner one last look, the scarred man smiled. "We don't need him anymore afterwards."
~oOo~
Face damp with sweat, and with leaves and small branches digging into his skin, Eggsy was lying on the cold grass under the wide treetop of a beech. Beside him, Roxy peered through binoculars equipped with night vision and other features Merlin had refused to show them all, checking the time every 30 seconds. Her impatience made him nervous, although he understood it all too well.
After another few agonising minutes of this, Eggsy loosened the grip on his sniper rifle and sighed. "What are we waiting for again?"
"Merlin's signal," Roxy replied easily, without taking her eyes off the building at the bottom of the hill.
"I knew that," he defended himself. "But why isn't he giving it?" They'd been waiting for ages; something Eggsy could have easily done without considering their journey through the woods had taken hours.
Roxy shrugged. "He's our handler, so we need him to focus his attention on our mission, and our mission alone. If he's occupied otherwise, we'll wait."
At that moment, a loud noise carried over to them and both agents turned to identify the source, argument forgotten. A light at the top of the building appeared, followed by the outline of three dark figures walking quickly across the roof. Roxy had barely time to locate them through her binoculars before the sharp sound of helicopter blades gathering speed could be heard and the black mess took off.
"Shit." Within seconds, the helicopter had become undiscernible against the dark sky, and Eggsy tried to trace it in vain.
Roxy, on the other hand, had long focused back on the building. The lights on the third floor were still on, two men patrolling in front of it.
"No worry, whatever we came for is probably still here."
As if to emphasise her point, a dozen of armed people swarmed out of the side entrance, parted and started to comb through the surrounding area.
"Shit," Eggsy repeated, this time more quietly, although the men were still a safe distance away. In one fluid motion he activated his earpiece while starting to take his sniper rifle apart, Roxy following his example.
"Merlin, things are moving here, care to lend us a hand?"
"Or an eye and an ear," Roxy chirped in, already shouldering her bag. With a few efficient movements she erased all traces of their stay, despite the darkness that would naturally cover their tracks. No need to take risks.
"Merlin?"
"Just a sec," came the muffled reply over the comm, before the line went silent again.
"Damn," Eggsy swore, and, after exchanging a glance with Roxy, followed her lead back through the woods. "Any suggestions?"
"We'll have to try and sneak past them."
Eggsy was about to comment on her disagreement to act on their own just moments before, when a branch she'd pushed out of her way snapped back and he barely managed to blindly reach out to avoid getting smacked in the face. It was getting darker, and the clouds obscured what little starlight had outlined their surroundings moments before. Luckily, their pursuers were just as blind as them, although they had the advantage of using flashlights and not having to suppress any noise.
A cracking of a twig somewhere to their left, and they both stopped dead in their tracks. After a quick gesture with her hand, and slight pointing with his finger in response, both young agents climbed the first two branches of the nearest oak. They waited, breath even, until the whispers had passed and flashlights disappeared.
They continued on foot, only stopping to hide twice more, until they broke through the tree line at the back of the building. The ground and first floor had no windows, not much of an obstacle considering the equipment Merlin had packed for them. What awaited them behind the glass, however, was more of a problem.
They'd just started a hushed, yet rather heated discussion about which window was most likely unguarded, when the comm crackled to life.
"Third one from the right. It's a rather small storage room, quite a bit off the main corridor."
"Merlin, how nice of you to join us," Eggsy commented ironically, the relief in his voice indicating he wasn't truly angered. Roxy gave him a sharp look, always the more responsible one.
"Sorry," Merlin replied. "Morgana called."
Both young agents shared a concerned look, but before either could say anything, the quartermaster stopped them with a firm "Later."
They climbed the wall and opened the window in complete silence, confident of one another's abilities. The room was pitch dark, empty except for old furniture that felt dusty under their fingers as the stumbled along the wall to the door. Beyond was a deserted corridor, leading into the dark. Merlin, always a comforting voice in their ears, led them through the abandoned part of the building to where there had been light in the windows. He'd no visual though, as he liked to remind them when they moved far too carelessly, which slowed down their progress significantly.
The faint whisper of voices, abnormally loud after what felt like an eternity of nothing but silence and darkness, reached their ears, just when Eggsy was about to lose his patience. They took positions beside the door, communicating their plan of action quickly and silently , waiting for Merlin's permission.
"Go!"
~oOo~
"Yes?" Morgana said into the phone, barely controlling the impatience and annoyance in her voice. It was late; she hadn't had a full hours rest for two days and the painkillers for her ankle weren't working as well as she'd hoped. Not to mention the long video call with Merlin.
"Morgana? Here's Guinevere," the other woman greeted her, voice tight and carefully composed. They knew each other well, and Morgana's heart sank at what her friend's and protégé's tone could mean.
Guinevere, however, didn't continue, so the doctor urged, "Guin, what is it?"
"There's something that...happened while you were away. And I was the only one Tristan could reach and seemed to trust enough to confide in, but I'm not sure about whether what I'm doing is -"
"Tristan?" Morgana's heart dropped, and panic mobilised adrenaline reserves she hadn't known she still possessed after her flight a few hours ago. "Is he back from America? Did something happen?"
"No no no, he's fine," the other woman tried to soothe her, "It's not he whom I've flown to Kentucky for."
Morgana almost dropped her phone. Eyes wide, and leaning forward in her plane seat, she asked incrediously, "You did what?"
The medical wing at HQ was busy already, and two competent doctors missing didn't make things easier, especially if said doctors where supposed to be in command. If Guinevere had decided to leave, she must have had very good reasons to do so, and Morgana's thoughts raced with possibilities. Feeling slightly dizzy, she leaned forward and rested her head in her free hand. It really had been a long day.
"Believe me, it was necessary. I assume you are on your flight back to London?" She didn't wait for an answer, having already heard the slight humming of the engines. "Good, because Tristan wants to fly back in a couple of hours, and I need your help if that flight shall be worth it."