#to boldly queue | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

derailedfiction · 1 year ago

Text

Run boy, run | Merlin | Kingsman

Chapter 3: A bitter life of Kingsman agent

Summary: Roxy would definitely change the rules a little bit, like Merlin, who was quite anxious about being the temporary Arthur. One day, when she would be the chosen one, she would change the rules in a suitable way.

A/N: I wrote it in 2015 pls have mercy on me.

"Is it me or does he look quite cheerful today?" Eggsy whispered conspiratorially to Roxy, who was sitting next to him.

She hadn't even notice that but Merlin was in fact more relaxed than yesterday and even nicer? His usual remarks were less strict. She shrugged in response. The personal life of her superior wasn't her interest, so she really didn't need to know. However, as she looked at Eggsy, she saw he was quite interested in it.

They had known each other for over a year, and she knew that look on his face. The look that tells her it is only a matter of time, before he asks some stupid ass questions, and probably got him hit on the head. Her and Eggsy's eyes met and she gave him 'don’t you even try' gaze.

"C'mon aren't you curious?" He insisted, with a charming yet somehow devilish smile.

"Eggsy, no. Don't even try it," she patted him on the head, trying to bring him to order, but she wasn't sure if it would help.

"Fine, Rox, fine. How's your candidate? Or don’t you have one?" He changed the topic, and was met with her sigh of relief.

"As a matter of fact I do have one, and I personally think he's really good. He's got a chance to get Tristian's place," Roxy answered.

Good Lord. Was that Merlin whistling, or is there something wrong with my hearing? She thought, as she got a quick look at the man. She was sure Eggsy had heard it too, because he was looking as surprised as she was.

"I bet he got laid last night," Roxy almost spit out the tea she was drinking.

"Eggsy!" she said that too loud, and attracted attention from Merlin.

"What are you two so fierce fully whispering about?" He queried.

"Our candidates, Merlin," Eggsy answered instead of Roxy, who was coughing out her tea.

"Good thing I didn't spit on my clothing... I wouldn't have time to change," she sighed with disbelief.

Eggsy looked as if he had the best time of his life, while watching her reaction. He handed her a napkin, laughing silently. How generous, she thought sarcastically, accepting it.

"C'mon that was funny," he tried to convince her, but after meeting her ice cold gaze Eggsy finally stopped talking.

A few moments passed in silence, disturbed from time to time by one of Eggsy's loud sighs, and after each, he would got tired look from Roxy.

"Eggsy..." He looked at her with suspicious look on his face, as her voice seemed a little too nice to him. "I didn't know you like Taylor Swift," her lips formed into huge grin.

"The hell? How would - " He started, highly surprised.

"Eggsy, language," he heard from Merlin.

"Were you spying on me? Have you seen how I’ve been singing? I don't believe that! Roxy, c'mon..."

She laughed softly to herself, watching him look at her in disbelief. It had in fact been an accident, but the film she had on her phone was a completely different story.

"I am a spy... What did you expect? Anyway, it would be shame if someone could see it..."

"Roxy don't be like that. You beat my ass on the rifle range and now this?" Eggsy was so surprised by her cold-blooded actions, that he couldn't find right words. "I was your slave yesterday but now you're gettin’ monstrous."

"Good," she said with satisfaction, as Eggsy tried to put everything together. "Anyway what are we waiting for, Merlin?"

He looked up from his newspaper and without a word, he pointed at the open door through which other agents walked into the meeting room. As soon as they had appeared Eggsy, sat back in his official place, so other agents could be seated in their own seats. He was a little surprised that none of the agents actually had the look of the spy. It was more like they were in a secret organisation like the Freemason, but for absolutely not like super-secret spy agents. They all exchanged greetings between Merlin, Galahad and Lancelot and took their seats, but quite interesting conversations didn't stop, as Eggsy overheard few.

"Gentlemen, please. I know we haven’t seen each other in person for quite long, but please stop talking as we have few tasks to do." Merlin said through the commotion, which was filling the room.

"Sorry for delay, Arthur. I got news for you but later, after the meeting.” Percival entered the room with his classic smile on his face. He seated himself on Merlin's left side and winked to Eggsy, and he knew something was going to happen and probably Merlin wouldn’t enjoy it at all.

"Since we are all here, I'd like to start the meeting. First things first; before we decide who will be the representative of headquarters, I'd like to outline plans for Kingsman’s near future for, and for the losses we suffered after Valentine’s day. I'm pretty sure you know quite much about it, but within few days we've found out about some crucial deaths in our department. Glasses please."

Roxy was only partially listening to Merlin. Nothing was new, as they were updated nearly every day about these kind of things. She concentrated on watching the other agents. She had seen them for the first time and she would have admitted, that she wouldn't have guessed that they were agents. More than a half were nearly fifty years old. Two she could tell were over sixty, and she and Eggsy were definitely the youngest of the group. She felt as if she was in a museum, with magnificent and maybe dangerous relics of a previous age. In her opinion agents should be changed out, not after their death but after passing a certain age, which would be fifty-five or sixty in her opinion. Of course, if the agents wanted retirement, that would be most understandable. Although such great figures of intelligence would be as magnificent in their new roles as consultant, as they had been spies. Roxy would definitely change the rules a little bit, like Merlin, who was quite anxious about being the temporary Arthur. One day, when she would be the chosen one, she would change the rules in a suitable way.

Lancelot snapped out of her dreams, and her gaze rested on Eggsy, who was as much interested in the lecture as she was. Good for him that Merlin was standing next to monitor, which was a habit hard to get rid of, because he was constantly whispering to the agent next to him. Merlin probably didn't pay much attention to that, because he had enough attention from the other agents.

Roxy narrowed her eyes, trying to understand each single one of these men. How did they get into this organisation? Through family connections? Through a friend? Or maybe by accident or stupid coincidence. Roxy slowly moved her eyes from one face to another, trying not to look at each agent for too long. She was a naturally observant person, and she could tell by a short look that two of the agents were going to be rather unpleasant and snobbish. There was probably no other person like Percival, open and easy-going. Although perhaps the agent in his fifties next to Eggsy. He could be a quite nice companion to talk to. Others were for her more blurred, and not interesting, but she wasn’t underestimating them. Roxy knew perfectly well that they were killing machines, rather than men, and she should show them respect.

Lancelot looked at empty chair. The chair belonging to agent Tristian. She had mixed feelings about the fuss that came with the recruitment. She had made it, and had successfully become the new Lancelot, but she wasn’t sure if she had chosen the right candidate. He had all the needed attributes, and yet something was keeping her worried all the time. Maybe that self-satisfied look Eggsy gave and his talk about his candidate. Or the fear that her candidate would stand against candidates proposed by other agents, and he would fail the first task.

It’s alright, Roxy. If he won’t pass the recruitment, it won’t be your fault. He’ll get the preparation for the oncoming tasks, and it’s only up to him, she thought trying to calm herself down, but if he drops out before Eggsy’s candidate, I’ll have no life for at least two months, perhaps even longer. Who knows what he will think of to make my life a little bit miserable.

The truth was that even if Roxy was a Kingsman agent, she had so many doubts about her part in the organisation that she needed to prove herself constantly. Prove that she is indeed worthy of the position, and only during missions had she been feeling free enough to believe that. That this was the best place for her and that she fit in here. Partially because she was the first lady in this company, and partially because of herself and her own problems.

Lancelot looked at the Merlin just in time when he finished his presentation, and returned to his seat. She knew what would happen next, and she was very nervous about it. That good humour of Percival, could bring storm clouds to this very room.

“Now we can take care of another, very important point of our meeting. The election of the representative of our division. I believe that every one of us has their own candidate in mind, but unfortunately we can and we must choose one, and only one. I suggest Percival as a temporary leader, our representative, and hopefully the next Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was calm and commanding, but Roxy saw a flash of fear in his eyes as he peeked at the agent on his left, unsure of his reaction, like a prayer to Percival not to do anything rash or reckless.

“Merlin I’m truly honoured by your choice but I must decline.” Percival smiled a lightly to his friend, as he had literally stopped breathing for a moment when he had heard the words. “We all know how important it is to choose the right person. He must know literally everything about Kingsman. Mission statuses, economics of our organisation. and how to manage all agents at once. I, personally, can’t say I know much about these things. I get a mission to complete, and I do complete it. Of course it’s in all of our interests for Kingsman to function correctly, and I believe that our organisation will function at its finest under command of our beloved Merlin. Which is why I’m suggesting he is our candidate for Kingsman headquarters.”

During his speech, Percival hadn’t had the courage to look to his right. Instead he was moving his gaze from one agent to another, while trying to convince them of his idea. Which was truly a good decision because if looks could kill Percival now would be a pile of ashes. Merlin sat in complete silence, being too well behaved to tell Percival directly what he thought of Percival’s speech.

“All right. Thank you, Percival, for your precious words.” Merlin’s voice was calm, but one could sense the fury and anger behind it. He already regretted having this meeting and changing the rules. Crafty twice loses. “Now the voting. Please raise your hand if you support Percival as the candidate.”

Merlin closed his eyes, hoping that this would delay his unfortunate fate. However, when he opened them and saw only two hands up, Merlin clenched one hand into fist, his knuckles whitening under the strain.

„Well then… Thank all of you for coming here. We have a verdict,” Merlin slowly unclenched his fist. “That would be all for now. You can now go, and exchange the latest news.”

The various agents got up, and began leaving the meeting room. Percival was first to go but a firm grasp of Merlin’s hand on his arm prevented him to take another step.

“We have something to explain to each other, haven’t we?” Merlin, looked like he had turned into venomous snake patiently waiting for his next victim.

“Oh man, Merlin won’t let Percival go. This’s going to be good.” One of the agents snorted as he was the last to leave. “I’m sorry. I’m Gawain, and you must be our new Lancelot. I’m really happy that something is changing in this old-fashioned organization. I’m looking forward your achievements, young lady.”

They crossed the corridor and went to a smaller room with a bar. Most of agents were already there, talking and laughing, with glasses filled with alcohol in reasonable amounts.

“Thank you very much, sir,” Roxy smiled a little bit still concerned about Percival’s fate. “I don’t know if you have met…”

“Ah, Galahad I’ve heard few things about you lad,” Gawain shook hands with Eggsy. “You both still look like scared nestlings.”

“Gawain, we’ll do our best to soon be one of the best agents.”

“I’m holding you to your word, my young friend. It’ll be pleasure to see your development.”

“So, what will happen to Percival?” Eggsy asked with interest.

“Well, he and Merlin are quite good friends, so I don’t think Merlin will kill him. However, he’ll probably end up with a few broken bones. We’ve all seen Merlin’s reaction,” Roxy and Eggsy looked at each other and then at the doors. “Oh, he’ll be fine. I’m joking.”

“No, he’s not. Trust me, if you unleash the legendary fury of Merlin, there is literally nothing to stop him, and Percival was quite successful today. I’m Bors, by the way. Welcome to Kingsman, kids,” The man in his fifties interrupted his colleague with charming smile. “I know a few things about Merlin and trust me if you tread on his corns, he won’t forget about you easily. My arm still hurts when I think about an argument we once had.”

“Don’t be absurd, you just went way too far in that conversation, and I must say it was mostly your fault.”

“My dear Gawain, what has he told you to get you on his side?” Bors looked both offended and surprised by this unexpected betrayal, but after a second, he started laughing, Gawain joining in.

“For give us kids. We’re dinosaurs. Merlin is not that bad actually. He’s one of the best technicians, engineers and computer specialists in the world. I’m glad he works here, and not somewhere else. Anyone wants a drink?” Gawain asked, and when there was no response, he poured a few fingers of scotch into tumbler.

“He hadn’t had much choice as his uncle got him here. He was literally brought up in this facility,” Bors shrugged and sighed wearily. “Everyone has a story and Merlin’s is quite an interesting one. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to catch up with the latest rumours.”

“And that was one of Kingsman’s best cut-throat. He can do miracles with knives and after thirty years I’m still impressed by his abilities.”

“Oh, and what is your weapon of choice, Gawain?” Roxy asked with courteous smile.

“Nothing in particular, really. I still can’t decide, but I have plenty of time to...”

“Did you hear that?” Eggsy looked at them, surprised and not sure if he had been the only one to hear the muffled scream.

***

“Come on Percy, I barely touched you.”

“Really, then why my nose is bleeding?” Percival slowly got up from ground, trying to stop the bleeding. “Fuck, Merlin new mats and blood is everywhere.”

“Be a man and take responsibility of your actions. Come on!” He was walking around him with defiant expression. Merlin jostled him and jumped back and again.

“Merlin, fuck off!” Percival swung to punch him, but was to slow and was immediately knocked down. “You are the best option for Kingsman and you can’t deny it!”

“Say that again to my face, instead of the ground, Percival. I can’t hear you from ground level, you piece of shit.”

Maybe making Percival his personal punching bag wasn’t the most humane thing to do but surely he would learn. Merlin turned to him, taking off the boxing gloves and tossed them on the ground.

“Do you know why I didn’t want this position? Why I wanted to get back to my first job?” Merlin queried, slowly approaching his friend. “Because of my wife and son.” He reached out toward Percival and helped him get up. “Now that we’ve cleared a few things I’d like to give you a very special and private tour of my kingdom, which will be ruled by you for some time, and I’m starting to regret my decision.”

Merlin slapped Percival’s arm and left to change clothes. He still needed to let go of some steam, but he didn’t want any of that damn idiot’s bones to break. After the tour of ‘what and where’, he had to come back here again. And although his thoughts had calmed down, he was still in his murder mode.

Breathe in and slowly out. You know how to cope with this, he thought under the shower, letting all his negativity drain away with water. It’s not your fault. Percy does things before thinking about it. He probably shouldn’t feel pleasure in most likely breaking the nose of his friend, but the sight of blood gushing out of Percival’s nose was quite memorable and pleasing.

“So Percy, now without my blessing, you’ll need to cope with some things down here. Firstly you won’t have my clipboard because you obviously don’t deserve it, and I’m taking it with me. I’ll get you a new one in some time,” Merlin said with satisfied and smug look on his face, once he had returned from his shower.

“Great. So what am I going to use during that time?” Percival asked, still trying to stop the bleeding. “Do you have any ice here?”

“Yes in the freezer. On your left, but be careful there’s chemical weaponry in there.”

Percival looked at his friend, opening the freezer with hesitation.

“I can’t believe we are still friends.”

“Don’t drive me mad. That way you’ll live longer, Percy. Now can we move on? I don’t have all day.”

“Go on. Maybe I won’t leave a bloody trail after me,” Percival snorted in reply. “What else should I know?”

“The tasks the candidates will have to go through. I’ve written everything here on these cards, and of course you need to rewrite all the points to the computer system over there,” Merlin came closer to the panel on the wall and touched the screen. “Once you have done that, you’ll send it to me. That way I can monitor if you fuck it up or not.”

“How am I supposed to fuck up the recruitment?”

“I don’t know, Percy. I don’t know. You’re capable of fucking everything up, my dear friend.”

Percival could still sense Merlin was pissed off, and he wasn’t blaming him for that, but was sure Merlin could stop being so, because it was becoming rather childish.

“Of course you have to do it manually; I’ll not make it any easier for you. Now, every needed instruction, you can find in this panel, along with all the necessary information for each of the candidates. You must remember to make sure that you write down all of them. Now come here, I’ll show you the weaponry.”

Percival followed the quartermaster into the next, quite impressive, room, which connected with the central room. It was full of weapons of any kind. From the simplest knives to the most advanced guns and chemical weaponry. He stood for a while in silence admiring the view.

“Bloody amazing. I feel like a child before Christmas.”

“I know. I feel the same,” Merlin turned toward him. “You told me you had some news earlier?”

“Ah, yes. There are a few agents assigned to lead you-know-what, and I think the best option would be Eli Bovell,” Percival took two steps back as he saw Merlin’s reaction.

“Eli Bovell? The same Eli Bovell I’m thinking of? The one that nearly blew up my plane?”

“Yes, in fact yes. But…” Percival took another step back. “But, he’s still alive thanks to us. It’s kind of repaying the debt.”

“Fantastic. Amazing. I can’t wait to see him here, bossing around and driving me mad,” Merlin said sarcastically. He sighed loudly, looking at a showcase containing a number of machineguns. “Good. I’ll be ready for him. However, he can’t come in here. This is a restricted area for him. I don’t want him playing with my toys.”

“You probably have more than a month before he arrives, so relax. Also I’m really sorry for what I did today, but you do have great chances to become Arthur,” Percy came closer this time, and Merlin could hear the regret in his voice.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the thing that worries me, Percival. I’m sorry about your nose. I hope it’s not broken,” Merlin watched his stupid friend carefully through glasses with a forgiving smile. “Remember one thing, though. If during my recruitment anything happens to my wife or to my son, you’re responsible for it, and you’re next in line to have a bad accident. Keep that in mind, Percival.”

“Of course. I’ll remember that, and be sure I’ll take care of them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, this bloody thing doesn’t want to stop bleeding,” as soon as Percival had finished speaking, the man left the weaponry, leaving Merlin alone.

“God, I need to destroy something,” Merlin snarled, and punched one of the shelves with his fist on his way out of the room.

Carefully, he closed all the doors, and turned on the alarm. Just in case, or just because, he was little shit, and couldn’t help himself to cause some trouble for Percival. Merlin loved him like the brother he never had, but today Percival had gone way too far. Despite knowing all of Merlin’s doubts, he decided to come up with this idea. If he had had something upstairs, he would have ended up with broken bones.

Be nice to people so they’ll be nice to you, fucking bullshit, Merlin thought as he was changing into training clothes. He needed to shake off this idiot’s behaviour and return home more relaxed. The last thing he wanted was to bring all the stress and anger to his family. Just for second he looked in a mirror, and saw face of an extremely tired man.

“I won’t get any younger. It’s exhausting,” Merlin told his reflection and went to the gym.

With no one around, he finally felt unrestrained enough to unleash his anger on a training bag. Merlin stopped thinking about everything else. His only focus being smashing his fists into that bag, and trying to throw away anything negative that happened within the month. The death of Harry, nearly loosing Cecilia and Alex, Kingsman’s failure, bloody recruitment and now this, stabbed in the back with amazing grace by Percival. This poor training bag wouldn’t survive his furious hits.

“Fuck... this... bloody... shit...” With each word, his punches became more and more powerful. In the end Merlin took a step back, then kicked it in a half-turn. He took of his gloves and grabbed a towel to dry himself off.

“Fuck it, I’m going home,” he said with rather self-satisfied tone, looking at the devastated training bag. Its replacement was no bother for him at all, because from now on it was Percival’s duty to take care of such things, and that thought brought him into an even better mood.

***

"Hamish, you're earlier," he was surprised by the lack of surprise in her voice. Cecilia felt obliged to explain herself as she continued. "Percy called just before you came and told me that you'd left with a stern face. Is everything all right?"

"Yes it is. Percy was successful at driving me mad today and I just couldn't stay there any longer or I'd do something very, very bad to him."

“Oh boys, you always have to play on each other’s nerves. I don’t really understand it. However, I believe you came up with a suitable revenge on him, haven’t you?” His smile was more than the answer she was expecting. “You should go sleep or rest at least. Last month was quite exhausting for you.”

“I don’t need to be back at work till Monday, so don’t worry. I have plenty of time to rest and sleep,” Hamish came closer to his beloved one and kissed her cheek. “At least I can spend some time with you and Alex.”

Cecilia looked at him with a gentle and supportive smile. It wasn’t that hard to see in his eyes how much he needed a few days off work, and she was happy for her husband to have some free moments for himself.

“Go sleep. I’ll wake you for dinner and maybe later you can show Alex how to train his puppy. What do you say?”

“All right. I can agree on that.” He kissed her lips short and passionately, “And we need to talk after my sleep because unfortunately, I’ll be taking part in another recruitment. More work is just absolutely what I need right now.”

“Oh well, that happens especially when you have friends like Percy. We'll manage, love,” He looked at her astonished at how well she knew his friendship with Percival. “But you know if you kill him one day, give me a shout so I can help you hide the body. Sleep well, darling.” Cecilia pecked his lips and returned to preparing the dinner.

***

The time had come, and Percival was able to briefly meet all the candidates before the beginning of the actual recruitment. They absolutely weren’t suspecting anything, even if they had had short talks about upcoming events with their mentors. Two boys and one girl got his particular attention.

The first one, Lancelot’s choice, had the look of a very strict person with a very high self-assurance, which probably was a cause of his pride, but he could forgive him that after seeing his scores at school and shooting. At once, he managed to get good contact with other young men in the room. The second was Bors’ candidate. The quiet one, though with an impressive IQ, and interest in white and chemical weaponry. Percival had a feeling about this one to be one of the most problematic candidates, apart from perhaps the last one. The girl, the only one among seven boys. She would definitely be a huge deal of trouble, as she was Galahad’s candidate. She was the daughter of former RAF pilot with a flair for computers.

Percival checked the list one last time, making sure that all of the youngsters had arrived and were ready to begin his first recruitment.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Percival and you’re about to start on one of the most dangerous job interviews in the world,” he could have sworn this didn’t sound as serious as when Merlin said it, but he couldn’t help it. “The bags on your beds. Sign them in advance so we can know where to send your bodies if you won’t make it through the process of the recruitment. Any questions?” He begged for none. “No? Then you’re dismissed and we’ll start tomorrow morning.”

Percival turned around and walked out, trying to look calm. However, that was over him. Being on missions was nothing in comparison with training a bunch of kids to become a spy. He got to Merlin’s room only to find Eggsy and Roxy, waiting for him impatiently.

“Oh my God. What you two are doing here?” He queried, as he put his clipboard on a desk. Fortunately Merlin wasn’t as mean as he wanted to be and got him new clipboard in advance.

“Well we thought, we could look how it’s going with our candidates?” Eggsy answered with a question, coming closer. “And what do you think about them?”

“Roxy, your candidate will go far, if his pride won’t come out to quickly and Galahad... Good Lord, have mercy because yours, and trust me I can sense it, will be one big problematic girl. Just like you were, boy,” Percival smiled slightly when he saw pride on Eggsy’s face.

“How is your nose?”

“Good but broken, thanks for asking. Merlin has a really good right hook.” In fact, he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t broken his nose when he had hit the floor. “Roxy do you have any more agents for the “Arthur recruitment” list?”

“Yes, in fact. Though unfortunately only one name, from American cell, Gerard Mole,” Eggsy laughed and received a surprised look from both agents.

“What? Mole as an agent, that doesn’t bode well.” He explained himself still laughing silently.

“Anyway that’s the one I’ve got. I’ll probably get the names from Canadian and Asian cells in few days. Hopefully, we’ll close the list within two weeks and process will start within the month,” Roxy ended her thought, interrupted by Eggsy’s laugh. “Oh, I’ll send you all the needed data tomorrow morning, if that’s not a problem.”

“No, that’s fine. Galahad please tell me how it is going with completing squads in other cells?” Percival turned his eyes on the boy.

“Well, the Canadian and American cells are doin’ pretty well. The Asian cell is a few steps behind, but also with good perspectives. The Australians send me documents and reports about problems with rebuildin’ their headquarters, and unfortunately a candidate from Australia may appear as the last one.”

“All right then. I’ll update the information and send it to Merlin. Hopefully he won’t break anything this time.” Percival smiled wearily, walking back to the monitors and began to update the data to the main computer.

“By the way, when will he be back? Because I saw him leave and didn’t get the chance to ask him,” Lancelot looked expectantly at the older agent.

“On Monday, I bumped into him when he was leaving,” once again, Eggsy rescued the situation with his information.

“Percival? When will start the first task?”

“Probably in few hours. They need to go to sleep; otherwise, there would be no surprise. Why, Galahad?” He asked suspiciously.

“I was wondering if I could see how my candidate will do. Roxy probably is dying to see it too, aren't you?” Eggsy looked at the girl both asking, begging for acceptance and excitement.

“That's true.” She said quickly, as she felt Percival's sight on her as well as Eggsy’s. “It would be quite interesting.”

“You two have a deal, haven’t you? Which candidate will last longer?” He smiled lightly. There was a time when he himself and other agents had made deals about which one of the candidates would fail first or last. The loser hadn't had a easy life for month but it was still worth it. “Well I don’t see any problems with it. Other agents are gone, as well as Merlin, so you can watch freely and enjoy the view. However you need to wait a few hours. Go to the library, dining room or whatever, and spent that time somehow.”

“Thanks Percy! You're the best.”

“Off you go. I need to rewrite the data for Merlin. Oh and I owe you for voting for Merlin.”

“Don't take it personal, but I really think that Merlin is the best option for Arthur.” Eggsy's smile was unbelievably wide.

“I must agree with him, Percival. He’s our best shot.” The blonde nodded in silent agreement. “But I think that you would be a good choice as well. Maybe not as much, but still.”

“Lance, c'mon I know where we can spent those hours. Drinkin’ good alcohol and debatin’ about world peace.” Eggsy caught her sleeve and started pulling her toward the exit, but she stopped.

“Go. I'll catch up with you in the library,” Roxy carefully watched as Eggsy left, and when she was sure he'd gone, she turned to Percival. “Sorry about that comment and being a candidate for Kingsman’s leader aaaaand... mom is asking if you can make it for her birthday dinner next Saturday, uncle.”

“Nothing has happened. I'll see what I can do. If I find somebody to take my place for that evening. I can't leave the recruits on their own. Merlin would have my head for that. But I'll do my best to be there.”

“All right then. I won’t interrupt you anymore. I’m sure you have quite a lot of things to catch up with, so I’ll go meet up with Eggsy.” She smiled and kissed Percival’s cheek.

“Good, then see you in few hours. If you both won’t be sleeping till then.”

***

The task was about to begin. All candidates were asleep, unaware of the oncoming event until the water had reached their beds. All of them not quite awake, yet trying to figure out what was happening. Soon they were sure the room was going under water and they needed to do something to prevent drowning.

“Use snorkels!”

“What?!”

“Showerheads!” Another person picked up on the idea.

Everyone looked around trying to figure out what was happening. Two boys were pointing at the toilets and showers, and soon began to swim in that direction, not paying attention to the rest of the competitors.

„He’s right go, quickly!” A tall blond had no problem with commandeering the other recruits.

At this point, no one wanted to stay behind and the rest of the group was swimming towards showers to get pipes. The girl was the last one and just before the water reached the roof, she saw one extremely panicked boy. It was obvious he couldn’t swim or he had big problems with swimming.

“Take a deep breath!” she shouted at him, and took one last breath, turning back for him.

She tried to get to him as fast as she could because it wasn’t hard to notice that his panic didn’t help him at all and soon he’d be out of oxygen. The girl grabbed him tightly and tried to swim to the rest of the group.

The blonde had the feeling it was ages before she got to the pipe with oxygen and could take a deep breath. At the end she could have sworn she saw blackness around her. Of course, she gave the pipe to the boy first, he wasn’t looking good, nearly in agony even. If he won’t get help, he’ll end in one of those bloody bags, she thought sarcastically.

Even though the room was under the water, with unlimited air supply they could have been there as long as they wish but it wasn’t the task and somehow everyone knew that finding a way out in short time, would be the best solution at the moment. Few were pointing at the door as an option, but that would be just too easy to try, and even if one of them would dare to swim there, that person should have capacious lungs to go there and back if it would turn out to be locked.

The girl looked at the blonde who had the idea with pipes, hoping that he would have another marvellous plan, but his face had left her no doubt nor other peoples’ faces. Everyone was trying to put on a brave face in the situation, but all of them were trapped.

“Oh my God, are they even tryin’ to get out of the room?” Eggsy was not impressed by the candidates’ doings.

“Eggsy if they don’t figure it out soon, they’ll probably won’t pass the recruitment and that would be most unexpected turn in Kingsman history. Every single recruit will fail because they couldn’t free themselves from that room. Amazing...”

Roxy looked at the monitor in astonishment. She really hoped her candidate would figure it out, but he was far from that. As was Eggsy’s girl.

“C’mon! Mirror! Think of it! Mirror!” He nearly shouted at the monitor to the swimming figures.

“I don’t think that’ll help at all, Eggsy. Maybe just sit down and enjoy the thought that your candidate saved the life of that poor boy. Anyway whose candidate is he?” she looked carefully at the floating figure which was clasping a pipe with air. He probably won’t go too far from it.

“He’s Bors’. You got it ‘ere” Galahad pointed small rectangle on the other monitor. “Curious how he had picked this one, or maybe he was the first to go and my girl just made the game a little bit harder...”

“That’s quite probable. Look now, I think they’ve finally found out about the mirror. They’re hitting it all together.” She was impressed how the group of strangers was able to learn to cooperate so quickly.

“Plus for group work and one big minus for the time!” He snorted in reply.

***

As they figured out the only escape route worth trying was to break the mirror, and with a little luck, it would be a two-way mirror. The whole group caught something like a tap or a sink and hit the mirror, at the same time. Unfortunately, nothing happened. So they tried again, and again. Until the glass began to crack, and it finally broke into small pieces, and the recruits ended up on the floor coughing and trying to start breathing normally again.

“Hey, you’re all right?” The girl asked the boy who was coughing the loudest.

“Yep, totally. If only I could swim...” His voice was breaking, and it was extremely hard for him to speak, too busy concentrating on breathing and thanking the girl for saving him.

“Congratulations on completing your first task. It took the longest time to solve that problem, but I’m impressed with how all of you worked together. John, Victor well done. For those still confused. If you get a breathing tube around the U-bend of a toilet, you have an unlimited air supply. Simple physics, worth remembering. Anna well done for helping the non-swimmer. If you hadn’t, he’d have probably ended up in a body bag,” Percival said when the recruits stopped coughing.

All eyes were on him, and it wasn’t especially hard to see how their gaze changed from the steady and emotionless one to the fearful, lost and a little bit disorientated one. Now they had found out that practically anything could happen during the recruitment, and they need to be prepared.

“All right, that’s all for now. You can go back to your room and clean up a little. Fresh and dry bedclothes, as well as sheets, are next to the door on the other side of the room. Get them and go to sleep. Tomorrow won’t be any easier than this. Good night.”

#kingsman #merlin x ofc #eggsy unwin #roxy morton #kingsman the secret service #kingsman the golden circle #to boldly queue

2 notes · View notes

cheesus-doodles · 2 months ago

Text

Going Home: Chapter 5

Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling

Masterlist

‎‎

Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

happy thanksgiving! sorry I fell off the earth for a while, died and the immigration queue back from hell took forever, read: took an unexpected hiatus from burnout :'(

Draken stood face to face with Baji, abyss eyes gazing back blankly at the other’s. Panting heavily despite the short distance covered by them both - Draken knew Baji’s shop was just a few streets away from here - their heavy breaths the only sound that echoed down empty residential streets.

A fucking time leaper.

Of all the bloody things in the world.

The thumping of his heart in his ears was hard and furious as Draken turned the information over and over in his head, again and again. It had to be true, what you told his past self. Everything lined up too well for it to not be: your sudden disappearances twelve years ago, your perpetual state of absence from their world, their inability to find even a lick of evidence that you existed somewhere out there save for those old pictures they had pinched from your house. You had simply been lost to the flow of time, drifting in and out of their timeline by some unknown means.

It was a blessing of rain on their gasping earth, this new information, no matter how big of a headache he had getting a blast of memories straight to the brain - you weren’t dead. You hadn’t left this earth, left them. There was still a chance to get you back, to make things right.

Far above his head, the flicker of a streetlight broke the stillness of the thick air, the tick of a clock inside a darkened shop indicating the seconds slipping by with every heaving breath Draken took. It was far too late on a weekday night to be awake in any other circumstance: there was work and school to attend to tomorrow, and the apartments towering above were dark and silent, its residents long asleep. Yet no matter how insignificant their struggles seemed in the face of the world that continued to turn - you were after all just another missing person among thousands of others - here they were, two former delinquents once known and feared for their might gathered like devout cultists. And for any unfortunate soul who might happen to look upon them, Draken mused, they could pass off as some sort of cultist, or madmen even - Baji wasn’t even wearing a shirt for fucks’ sake. The First Division Captain must have been asleep when the memories were cannonballed straight into his head, and had grabbed his apron out of instinct instead of a shirt. He, on the other hand, was at least clad in his working overalls, the wrench he had taken to a customer’s bike ten minutes ago still clutched in hand.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Draken forced himself to focus. There were more urgent questions that needed an answer over him dwelling on the could-bes. Like why now? Why the sudden recollection, an uncontrolled flare of memories that he didn’t previously have? Did something change, perhaps linked to you and your particular situation, that triggered these new memories in not only him but in Baji as well?

His mind instantly jumped back to four nights ago, when Takemichi had muscled his way back into his life unannounced, those flabby lips boldly asking after you and your whereabouts as if he had any right to do so. Sure, he had thought then that the questions being asked were strange and out of place, off-putting even, but now that he had the time to think and turn the meeting over, now more than ever, the former Toman Vice Captain was sure it couldn’t be a mere coincidence. It wasn’t possible.

Could it be that Takemichi knew about the new memories? Scratch that, did that scrawny little bastard know about you and your time leaping? Had the two of you met before without the Toman founders’ knowledge? And who was that other man that had been with Takemichi?

Baji’s train of thoughts, however, seemed to have gone down a slightly different path. “So that means that omamori - it didn’t work?” The pet shop owner’s almost panicked question broke Draken out from his pondering. “Did you lose it?”

Almost instinctively, Draken’s hand went to his neck, though the purple and gold charm hadn’t hung there in years. Where had that gone? Try as he might, his mind was blank, the bike-loving mechanic struggling to even recall the last time he had seen the small embroidered cloth. What happened to the omamori in the past twelve years? Had it been misplaced somewhere along the way? He hadn’t thought about it much, not since you went missing all those years ago. But how could he have just simply forgotten about something as important as that? Something that was so inherently…you? You had always been the one to bear the charm, a symbol of the place you once held at the center of Toman, a symbol of the protection its delinquent founders afforded you.

Either way, wherever the omamori had gone now, he was sure that right before you were lost to time - “I had it,” Draken mumbled. “I’m sure I had it with me when she went missing. The memory, I just got that.”

‎

The former First Division Captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang has had a long day. A long, tiring, annoying day. Running a pet shop while working towards his vet license was far from the easiest thing, and Baji had used up most of his energy between stopping himself from letting his notoriously short temper loose on several irritating customers who didn’t know how close they came to meeting the business end of his fists, and attempting to understand the absolutely convoluted material he needed to learn for one of many classes. So when he had finally tumbled into bed at the end of the day, exhausted and ready for the welcome of sleep, the last thing he expected was to have what felt like an ice pick to his head - a sudden blast of memories and recollections that the man couldn’t control, that he didn’t have before, that ached and burned as they bombarded his mind, settling between existing memories as if they had always been there.

It gave him a serious headache that no amount of ice could get rid off - which sucked a ton, of course - but even through the gnawing throb, it gave him a renewed sense of hope that Baji clung to like a drowning man to a life buoy. You weren’t dead. No, you were very, very much alive, even now while you were still lost to the grasp of time. The main question was why? Why were you still missing? They had it all figured out twelve years ago. Your disappearance was supposed to have been solved.

Baji’s hands moved to grab Draken by the front of his shirt, shaking the other man vigorously. “If you had it, then she shouldn’t be here,” the black-haired man snarled, his fists tightening around the rough material of the overalls. “She wouldn’t have gone missing twelve years ago.”

“There must be more to it then,” the man in the overalls muttered under his breath, one hand coming up to grasp his chin . “Maybe it’s not just the omamori.”

Something beyond the charm?

Yellow eyes scanned the surroundings as he contemplated the recent revelations. The alley where the two of them now stood held many bitter memories, given it was where you had disappeared from the first time, though the large grass patch a stone’s throw away wasn’t any more reassuring. It was where your school once stood, where he recalled picking you up from countless times from the curb, his loud motorbike drawing stares and shudders alike, where the Toman founders once regular gathered to dish out beatings to your schoolmates for their insolence towards you, where your life had revolved around.

The building was long gone, burnt down in an act of arson that the police declined to investigate, with the rumor mills pointed at organized crime - and this man could guess exactly which one. The black-haired former delinquent hesitated, before speaking again. “But what else? Intention?”

Draken brushed his questions off, those abyss eyes focusing. “This isn’t the time to figure this out, Baji. The new memories; it has to be because she time leapt again, which means -”

“She’s here.” Baji’s mind raced with the implications, his entire mind feeling as if it was on fire - once sleepy and exhausted from the day’s work but now running at full speed. That memory of you comforting the Toman founders after your return, telling them that you were a time leaper. You were alive for now, though it would be hard to say how long that would last - if you had truly time leapt and were now here, in their future, then the pet shop owner had yet to see head or toe of you. “The first time she went missing, where could she have gone?”

What was it that made you so reluctant to tell your friends what happened in the future?

Something seemed to click into place in Draken's brain, the growing horror on his face telling Baji everything he needed to know about the resolved puzzle. “Mikey.”

The sole name was uttered like the arriving finale of an apocalypse.

It made sense. You would do that - you would, if it was Mikey. If it was any of your beloved friends.

The two of them make a break for it as if on cue, sprinting towards the same destination with a wordless agreement; your house, Baji knew as he willed himself to go faster. It was where he was sure you would go if you were really here.

If you died here, in their future, would that also mean that you would also die back in the past where you came from? Would he never see you again? Your warm smile and loving hugs flashed through Baji’s mind, and he bit his tongue. No, that wasn’t a thought he was even going to entertain. Nothing close to that would even be the slightest bit acceptable. They were going to find you, and they were going to make sure you got home. Safely.

“How long has it been? Since the memories?”

“15 minutes.”

There was no response from Draken this time, though both men’s strides hastened, flying across the concrete as they rounded the corner almost at the same time, nearly crashing into each other, their curses flying free from their lips and into the night sky. There were a lot of things they needed to ask you, but now the most important thing was that they needed to get to you, before Mikey’s fingers could close around you.

‎

“Do you think she’s some sort of time traveler?”

Kakucho startled, blinking as he turned away from watching the familiar sights and sounds of Tokyo rushing by outside of the limousine. “Pardon?”

The ride from Bonten HQ had been completely silent up till now, the whirl of the air-conditioning combined with the light patter of rain having been just loud enough to cover the sound of the two men breathing. It was tense, and though that usually would be the right way to describe being in any sort of confined space with Sanzu, this time was different.

Despite the former Tenjiku member being one of two people who had what could be counted as a decent relationship with the other’s maniacal state, there was something about this rational pink-haired man that sent a shiver running down Kakucho’s spine. Sure, the usually rabid, drugged-up Sanzu had always been unpredictable when it came to his next move or even his next thought, but this version of Bonten’s second in command with forced mental clarity was downright dangerous; he had a singular goal to achieve, and it was Mikey’s survival. At any expense.

Said man didn’t move, continuing to simply gaze out of the car with an uncharacteristic calmness, alert half-lidded green eyes lifting momentarily to glance at Kakucho through the reflection in the tinted window glass. “Do you think she’s a time traveler?” He repeated.

Kakucho almost laughed out loud, though it was years of discipline and control over his expression that stopped his facial muscles from even twitching. He would have let the chuckle stuck in his throat loose if it was anyone else that occupied the far end of the car, if there was the slightest possibility that Sanzu had been joking around. But there was no humor in the other’s tone, nothing that would indicate the question wasn’t genuine, nor was Mikey’s right-hand man the only one to have this particular idea.

Leaning back into his seat, his arms folding across his chest, Kakucho himself recalled having a similar train of thought the first time he had stumbled into your room and his eye was met with your trembling pair. “I believe she would be a good candidate for one,” the Bonten Number Three carefully answered, every word painstakingly picked, all the while making sure to keep his sole working eye trained on Sanzu. “If there is any possibility that time traveling exists.”

Sanzu tsked, clearly annoyed at Kakucho’s indirect answer. Perhaps he was looking for a more yes or no answer? “She looks exactly the same from back when Toman was around,” the pink-haired man mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for the black-haired man to catch.

The car once more fell into a tense silence as the two men sat and stewed in their own thoughts, the lights of the world outside flashing by uncaringly. Kakucho turned his focus once more to the phone clutched in his hand, absentmindedly scrolling through the updates back from headquarters that constantly lit up his screen, his face as stoic as it always was - without a doubt in his mind, the real you had been a clear one-to-one match to your picture from twelve years ago Mikey had provided. You looked too young to have been missing for so many years.

This whole situation all sounded too much like a sick joke that someone out there was playing with them and their very lives, but the sinking feeling in his gut told Kakucho everything he needed to know; there was no way that this was the end just yet.

‎

By the time the sleek black limousine pulled up along your street, the minutes the ride had taken from Bonten Headquarters to your street felt more like hours. The rain had now become heavier, fat droplets falling from the night sky pelting everything and anything below, the moon and stars that usually twinkled in the dark of space obscured by storm clouds rolling past overhead. The air was thick, humid, and weighty with every breath.

It was one of those rare times that Kakucho could genuinely claim that he was nervous, the pound of his heart in his chest hard enough that he could almost hear it echoing in the car even if expression remained as impassive as it always have been.

The only other time your house alarm had been tripped, yes it was indeed you who he had found. And even this time, he had the constant confirmation back from headquarters that it was someone who managed your general statue that was loitering around the vicinity of what used to be your home, but the what-ifs continued to plague Kakucho. What if it was all a mere coincidence, and he and Sanzu find someone else instead; a burglar, maybe an unsuspecting passerby taking shelter? What if it was you, but by the time they arrived you were already gone? What if someone else got to you first?

Kakucho shook his head, attempting to pull his full focus back to reality as the car rolled to a full stop outside the all-too familiar house, the two men preparing to leave. There was little point in entertaining such anxiety driven thoughts. They will find out soon enough whether you were truly back.

As soon as the door on his end swung open, the unease instantly drained away from the black-haired man - there you were. Seated on the steps of the front porch of your house, you were truly a sight for sore eyes amidst the pouring rain, the brightly colored pajamas that you wore making you stick out against the backdrop of your unlit house. You must have been asleep before you were…pulled (from where, Kakucho would make no assumptions at this current point in time), no surprise given the time of night.

You gave them a small wave as two umbrellas sprouted up from the car door like mushrooms, a moving refuge from the anger of the heavers; your gaze following them as the two men strolled up the street, letting themselves in through the small gate at front of your house. “Hello again,” you greeted cheerfully as you stood, pausing momentarily to dust the back of your pants off. “Kakucho-san, Sanzu-san.”

Kakucho nodded in acknowledgement, his sole red eye glancing cautiously around the neighborhood. It was dead silent, the row of bland gray houses that stretched as far he could see all dark and unlit, though to the seasoned yakuza, the calmness was far from reassuring, the dark of night only equating to more places for potential threats to find. It was dangerous to have you out in the open like that, especially with your association with Bonten. “Why aren’t you waiting inside for us?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t have my keys on me this time,” you answered honestly.

Sanzu’s scarred lips pulled downwards in clear disapproval of your decision, the pink-haired man turning back towards the waiting limousine, not waiting to see if you followed, his umbrella bobbing slightly with each stride. “This way.”

Time traveler, the two words echoed again in Kakucho’s head as he patiently waited for you, watching as you hopped the last few steps to take shelter under his umbrella as he walked you out to the car, your comparatively juvenile face turning to beam up at him. If there was any doubt before, he was more certain of it than not. There was simply no way you weren’t a time leaper.

‎

Sanzu couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at your lack of awareness. Hell, his sheer hatred of you had been draining away with every new forceful injection of memories, and the former Toman delinquent could hardly recall why he resented you so much to begin with at this point. Those voices that had been nagging at the back of his mind for the past fourteen years seemingly having been silenced for good; then again, it could also just be him weaning off the cocktail of drugs he had religiously been on. Who knows? You had always been a good egg as far as he could remember, a kind soul to whoever you met whether or not Mikey and the other less-important founders approved. Had it just been mere jealousy over the closeness you shared with his king that had driven him to that extreme?

The pink-haired man rubbed at his temples, the most recent blast of new memories straight into his brain having given him a splitting headache, the aftereffects still radiating from the back of his head. The rain pounding away on his umbrella and everywhere in general wasn’t helping either. Perhaps it was because the last round he had been unconscious after being shot while high on drugs, cause he didn’t remember the experience being this painful or defined previously.

But more importantly, with every new wave, he was now as certain as he is that the path to hell is hot that one, the omamori from the founding of the Toman gang - the purple and gold one that he had seen you carry twelve years ago as a testament to your favor from Mikey - had something to do with your disappearance twelve years ago. And two: you were definitely some sort of time traveler. If not, the new memories he got of you from the past just wouldn’t make sense, why would you be attempting to apologize for nothing? You had to be apologizing for getting him in trouble with Mikey (after he attempted to strangle you to death, that is, but that was a small detail).

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a clear sign of displeasure from the heavens on Sanzu’s heretic thoughts - time leaping, of all possible things. He was never going to live it down if he was wrong, the Haitani brothers would make sure of that. But then again, didn’t Rindou also say that he got those new memories?

The heavy rain continued to pour relentlessly, dampening the scar-lipped man’s mood further as he tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Kakucho and you to catch up. Honestly, could you be any slower?

‎

It was the sudden sound of pounding in the distance that first caught his ear, a faint thumping that stood out from the otherwise rhythmic rain pelting down to earth; a sound that Sanzu identified as running. You were about halfway to the limo now, and the Bonten second-in-command willed you to move faster. If it had been any other time, it wouldn’t be such a red flag. But this was a residential estate, in the middle of the night.

No sane person would be running at this time.

A suspicious glance around by clear green eyes yielded nothing at first, the drumming of feet was certainly still there amidst the rain, but the coast was clear as of now, and the mafioso opted to stay on high alert. Years of delinquency followed by a descent into the yakuza world had taught Sanzu not to let his guard down easily, and he signaled to Kakucho, urging him to hurry you up, a telltale tingle running down his spine.

He didn’t like this one bit - they were exposed on the street, moving slowly with a precious payload. No good news. The faster all of them could get into the limousine and get out of this place, the better.

Those footsteps though, they just kept coming closer and closer, growing ever louder and stronger with every tick from his watch.

And the next thing Sanzu knew, it was the screech of shoes turning a wet concrete corner way too fast, and then the awfully familiar and wholly unwelcomed silhouettes of Draken and Baji came screeching round the corner, their eyes instantly snapping first to you, and then moving to glance between him and Kakucho, their eyes widening simultaneously as it dawned on them what they were witnessing. Both plainly-colored mobs of long hair were obviously soaked even from this distance, the drenched clothes and lack of umbrellas that the former Toman founders were clad in telling the Bonten mafioso everything he needed to do now.

They must have gotten the new memories as well. They must know now.

Fuck, what had happened in the past? How is it more and more people were getting the memories?

“Draken? Baji?” You wondered out loud, your voice tinted uncertainty as to whether who you saw speeding towards you were indeed the Toman founders you knew.

He glanced at them again, and then at the car. Godammit, their pace was picking up. Maybe if he had been a bit faster, a bit more insistent in herding you into the car. Maybe if he had just grabbed you and hurled you over his shoulder like potatoes.

But it was too little too late. This wasn’t part of the plan. Sanzu couldn’t lose you to them now - not with Mikey’s life on the line.

“Fucking hell,” the man with the scarred lips swore, throwing aside his umbrella, his now freed hand reaching under his coat and pulling out his gun from its holster in one smooth move, flicking the safety off as he raised the weapon.

You, however, were faster. “No! Sanzu, don’t!”

Throwing yourself straight at his gun with a panicked cry, said mafiaso had no choice other than to immediately lower his weapon to avoid your outstretched hands, the click of the safety switching back on lost in the pouring rain. Now that you were finally back with Bonten, the last thing Sanzu wanted to do was to be responsible for the death of his king by accidentally shooting you.

He turned to bark at the other Bonten member. “Cover me, Kakucho!”

Said man lept into action, withdrawing his firearm, aiming and firing off two shots at the ground in front of the charging Toman founder, forcing them to screech to a halt, though their quaking eyes remained fixed on you.

You screamed.

With a quick holster of his gun, Sanzu swung, his arm catching you around the middle, and you were shoved through the open car door into the backseat of the limousine, the purple-suited man quickly following suit.

The roar of anger from both Draken and Baji reverberated through the streets, their sheer fury palpable. “SANZU!” Draken bellowed. “LET HER GO!”

”I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU SANZU!” Baji thundered in unison, his mob of black hair whipping backwards amidst the equally ferocious rain.

Sanzu wasn’t going to wait around to find out. “’We’re leaving!” He barked at Kakucho, simultaneously giving the driver’s divide a few rapid pounds.

Keeping his gun raised, Kakucho retreated quickly, throwing himself through the open car door that slammed shut behind him. The car peeled off, leaving Draken and Baji standing on the curb right outside your house, staring at the car disappearing into the rainy mist.

‎

On the other end of the sleepy Tokyo metropolitan, the rain was equally relentless, a harsh howling wind rattling windows as it swept the fat raindrops inwards, drenching a miserable and already shivering Takemichi. The three more raps on Naoto’s front door were barely audible through the chaos that the sky was remaining down, though the former delinquent opted to resume his nervous pacing up and down along the apartment corridor, his furrowed brows and lost gaze accurately portraying the turmoil in his head. It had to be you, the twenty-six year old thought to himself as he wrung his hands in despair - that glimpse of a fleeting shadow he spotted near where your school once stood; it had to be. There was no doubt about it.

Yet he didn’t have a single whiff of evidence to back his claim up, just that churning feeling in the pit of his gut. Takemichi let out a low groan, slumping against the tiled wall, the wet tiles making little difference to his already soggy clothes. At this point, what else could he do but only hope against hope that it was enough to convince the younger Tachibana?

So occupied in his turbulent thoughts that he missed the beige door - one of many identical ones that lined the entire hallway - creaking open, a familiar mob of black hair peering out. “Takemichi? What’re you doing here at this time?”

Takemichi turned robotically at the words before turning back to face the open air and pelting rain, before his messy brain did a double take and it registered who had spoken. The tears sprang forth before he could stop them.

“Nao-Naoto!” The former delinquent wailed, barreling his way into the house and almost running the other man over before Naoto could reprimand him for his atrocious lack of respect for the neighbors. The apartment was as it always was, always had been in every timeline; plainly decorated, clean and neat, not that it mattered to a borderline hysterical Takemichi at the moment.

“I-I saw her, Naoto! N-near her school lot! I swear it was her!” He rambled, his hands clutching his shirt with a death grip, explosively energized from frayed nerves even as blown eyes glanced between the cupboard and Naoto. “You have to believe me!”

His head pounded. Naoto must believe him. He has to.

“....kemichi! Takemichi!”

His head flew left sharply, his ears ringing from the force. The stinging pain on his cheek only set in seconds later. But it finally broke Takemichi out from his meltdown, snapping him straight back to reality.

“I know she’s back! I got it, breathe,” Naoto directed the hyperventilating man to have a seat at the dining table before shuffling away, returning with two steaming mugs. ”Feeling better?”

Hand coming up to hesitatingly poke at the reddening and swelling cheek, the former delinquent throwing a dirty side-eye at the younger Tachibana sibling, though he was quick to drop his look when the other turned to face him. ”You didn’t have to hit me,” Takemichi muttered, before grumbling his begrudging thanks as he accepted the cup.

Naoto raised an eyebrow, taking the opposite seat. “You weren’t listening.”

“Okay, okay, fine. So you believe me?”

“I do,” the detective nodded. “And I have news for you. Bad news.” From a side drawer, he retrieved what seemed like a small piece of paper and slid it across the table to Takemichi. A photograph of some sorts. The image itself was blurry and hard to make out, as if it had been taken quickly, perhaps in passing or if the photographer had to hide after the snap..

Blue eyes squinted as Takemichi tried to interpret the picture, lifting it closer to his face. What was this even supposed to be? A white cat or something hiding among some large rocks? But those rectangular light sources could pass for a shop window? The photo was all but pressed against his nose before Naoto forcibly yanked Takemictchi’s hand back far enough to tap at the mob of white-hair.

The former delinquent looked up at the other man. “This is…”

”Mikey,” Naoto said resolutely. “Bonten’s boss.”

‎

The air was still in the apartment as the former Toman member followed the detective’s pointing finger up to those black eyes, the storm outside lashing out against the windows and thunder booming in the distance filling the tense silence. It couldn’t be. That couldn’t be true, Takemichi tried to tell himself, a desperate chuckle slipping his lips as he waited for Naoto to break into a laugh. A smile. To say that he was joking, to name another person, another cruel entity that could possibly commit such heinous crimes. Anything.

Because it couldn’t be. Not the Mikey he knew.

But even the quirk of his lips drained away when the Tachibana didn’t break the moody tension, his severe expression never wavering. Naoto meant it.

It was like a physical punch to his gut.

“Mikey?” Takemichi gasped out, barely able to catch his breath. The images of those tormented souls and their broken bodies that Naoto had shown him previously roared straight to the front of his mind once more, his face turning green from the mere memory. “It can’t be- Mikey wouldn’t-” Mikey wouldn’t do something like that, was what he wanted to say, the words dying on his lips as those blue eyes trembled with unshed tears.

The smoke from the tea wafted lazily through the air, the smell of green tea light and fragrant; a small relief from the heavy atmosphere that weighed down on his chest.

Yet Naoto pressed on, all but ignoring the stammered rebuttal; facts were unfortunately facts. He tapped the photo once more, and Takemichi’s eyes followed his finger to the small figure with their face turned upwards, almost completely hidden between the ring of black - the backs of bodyguards, his mind instinctively told him - and Mikey. “And that,” the detective said seriously. “Is who you’re looking for.”

Your name sprang instantly to the tip of Takemichi’s tongue, but he swallowed it back down on instinct alone before he could accidentally let it slip through his lips, lest one of the Toman founders hear of his transgressions through time. “The seventh Toman Founder,” he said, almost reverently. You were like a myth, a legend to all who made up Toman’s ranks, your mere name alone enough to send a shiver of fear down the spines of the black-clad boys. He still had never met nor seen you in person - and it all the more seemed to reinforce that legendary status. “This is her?”

Naoto nodded. “This was taken last week, about five days ago.” From the same side drawer, the police detective took out a case file, your school photo prominently pinned to the front.

Wait. The two photos, it wasn’t possible. “But she looks exactly the same…”

“Which means she is a time leaper,” Naoto confirmed. “Like you, Takemichi. There’s no doubt about it now.” A pause, as the younger man let his words sink in, before he continued. “But the difference is that she’s not in her older body. She’s switching places completely.”

“Plus her time leaping is overriding mine. There’s no new timeline, not even after we saved Draken. Just new memories?”

“New memories, yes. I haven’t received anything as of late, so I don’t know if she’s here or in the past at the moment. And on top of all this, we still don’t know if anyone else is getting those memories too.”

The throb of his mind as Takemichi to wrestle with and digest the avalanche of new information only served to reinforce just how convoluted this entire situation was. “So- Naoto, do you think she may have already told Mikey that she’s a time leaper?”

Said detective frowned. “She could have - they are good friends, no? He, and the rest of Toman, could very well be getting the memories as well.”

Takemichi slumps down in his seat; that would complicate things a lot. A ton, in fact. He desperately needs to speak with you, and fast; just to understand better what he could do to break the cycle, and perhaps even learn more about his own time leaping abilities - if you were capable of changing memories, you might have already inevitably told Mikey and the others that you were a time leaper.

The one problem was figuring out if you’re here in the future or back in the past, and it wasn’t as if he could just saunter up and ask without turning into a smear on the street. Takemichi’s best bet would be trying to catch you here, in what was your future, somewhere he could talk to you without the shadow of the Toman founders hanging over you; but if Mikey and Bonten already had you in his grasp…

Then the chance of Takemichi being able to speak to you would be close to zero.

He needed a solution and stat.

‎

The limousine sped by familiar roads, the rain that refused to let up a cacophony of sound against the metal shell of the limousine. It at least brought you a momentary solace, your heart continuing to race away like the pounding feet of a horse as you tried to process what had just happened. Everything looked glazed over, as if you were viewing the world around you through a layer of frosted glass, your eyes swirling around in your head as you tried to catch your breath, tried to stop your thoughts from spiralling down an unending and hopeless abyss.

Draken and Baji - they were right there. Your precious friends.

Not only were you back in the same future, with the same tired, bone-thin Mikey you remembered leaving behind, the friends you had thought the worst had happened to were still a part of this timeline.

Why hadn’t Mikey answered you all that time ago, when you had asked him about where the rest of your friends were? You had assumed the white-haired man only refused to speak due to an incomprehensible tragedy that befell his once-closest allies, that had ripped the rest of the Toman founders away from him and left him in that sorry state. You had felt that profound sadness pouring from your friend, experienced the grief that clenched at your heart. And you had decided not to pry, to not surface what would be extremely painful memories.

But you had seen them with your own eyes, and they were fine. Alive, breathing. Caring. They had come for you even in the torrential rain, fists swinging, yelling and pissing off your neighbours in the process as they always did. Nothing you could stay mad at, really.

So why? Why didn’t Mikey want to tell you? Why wasn’t he in contact with the rest?

The lights that flashed by through heavily tinted windows held no answers for you, the dull pinks, purples and yellows of the fluorescent signs that made it through briefly illuminating the skin of your hand before fading back into the shadows as quickly as it came, the car leaving the quiet residential streets for the city that never sleeps.

You needed to speak with the future’s Draken and Baji, you decided. You weren’t sure how, given what you had witnessed earlier and Mikey’s likely clinginess, but you had to find out what was going on. If not to find out if they perhaps knew anything about your time leaping that you didn’t, then at least to understand the chasm that had developed between your friends.

‎

“Fuck, I’m fucking drenched!” Sanzu complained loudly, pulling at the soaked purple striped vest and allowing the heavy cloth to sag under its own weight. Kakuchi himself grimaced at his own dripping state, but said nothing save to grunt in acknowledgement.

There was no doubt about it now, you mused to yourself albeit grimly as you settled back into the car seat, your pajamas squelching slightly under you as you glanced between a grumbling Sanzu and a stoic Kakucho. You sure hoped that the pink-haired man wasn’t going to use the opportunity to wrap his hands around your throat again, though he did seem pretty calm this time. Still, you still opted to shift somewhat towards Kakucho. Just to be safe.

Fidgeting with the hem of your pajamas, you glanced out the window again. The tension simmering in the car, combined with the sheer silence that permeated the air, made the atmosphere a bit too heavy for comfort. You bit your lip. What to say? “How’s Mikey?” You decided on asking. At least the one thing that you knew for sure that both men were fiercely loyal to Mikey, not that you wanted to know why the devotion; some things were better not known, much like how you avoided asking your Toman friends what they’ve been up to while you were away.

The sudden stillness was deafening. Even the patter of raindrops faded away, blanketed by this oppressive tranquility that weighed on your chest, on you. You hardly dared to breathe, let alone move, with both Sanzu and Kakucho seeming to freeze on your question. Were they unsure on how to answer you? Scarred lips twitched as if making to speak, those piercing green eyes darting sideways to meet yours before drifting away, Sanzu ultimately deciding against whatever it was he wanted to say. Kakucho simply continued to face forward, though you did catch his sole working red eye fixed on you, unspoken words lost to the raging storm.

The pink-haired man finally replied. “Mikey’s…not doing well,” was all he said, before he turned to look back out the window, his hand dipping into his striped vest’s pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes, though he ultimately thought better of it and stuffed the crumpled box back.

You stared at him, mouth agape. Turning to Kakucho only resulted in the other man avoiding your gaze. If that was all the two had to say, then this was not good. Not in the slightest.

‎

Your heart wrenched when Sanzu led you into the infirmary, with your two sets of footsteps echoing off the white walls The spotless room was enormous, empty beds lining both walls, neatly made with their curtains drawn - save for one at the far end. And it was in the sole occupied bed that you spotted Mikey’s frail frame, a small lump under the covers, his white-hair all but blending into the clean sheets. Sighing, you sank down into the hard plastic chair, your hand reaching out to brush against the pulled covers. “Mikey,” you whispered, the sole word heavy with guilt. You wanted to touch him, to run your fingers gently through his hair, to pull your friend into your arms and assure him everything would be all right. That he needn’t suffer, that you would care for him.

But you restrained yourself, your arm falling limply to one side. This was all your fault. You had been too hasty, too eager to return home, too assured in the idea that this timeline would simply fade into your memory, that the outcome would change when you did so little. But now, reality was staring you cold in the face, and you couldn’t think of a time when you had seen Mikey so frail.

At the sound of your voice, the form stirred, stiff shoulders instantly relaxing as those abyss eyes met yours, blinking weakly. You saw your name formed on his lips, though no sound left his throat. It seemed that even the sight of you had completely relaxed the broken man.

A soft click, as Sanzu quietly exited the room, leaving you and Mikey alone. “I brought you some food Mikey. Would you like to have something to eat or drink?” You showed the white-haired man the paper-wrapped taiyaki and the glass of water you had brought with you; upon your earlier arrival, Sanzu had brought you straight to the kitchens to whip up something quick. You had your suspicions on what had happened, though you hadn’t quite realized just how bad it had gotten until you laid eyes on Mikey.

Fortunately, it seemed Mikey instantly recognized the cake as your handmade variety, not store-bought or Sanzu’s, and as if on cue, his stomach began to rumble. Your lips quirked a small smile, and you turned to set the glass of water down, before tearing off a small chunk of taiyaki. Cooling it down with a blow, you carefully dipped it in some water to moisten the piece (heresy, but so much easier to eat for someone who hadn’t in four days), before holding it up to your friend’s lips. “Ahhhhh.”

The white-haired man obliged, his lips parting to allow you to press the small morsel of food into his mouth. A quick bite and then swallow. You managed to repeat the process two more times before the other’s eyes were all but closed, the exhaustion setting in now with some food in his belly.

Rewrapping the taiyaki in its paper, you kicked off your shoes, climbed onto the infirmary bed and settled next to Mikey. His eyes already fluttered shut, it didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around you and tucking his face into the crook of your neck as you crawled under the sheets, the other’s breathing evening out before you closed your eyes, finally at peace.

‎

Twelve years separate from you and stuck in the past where they couldn’t get to you, the Toman founders once more found themselves in a conundrum they had no answers to.

Kazutora’s hysterical wails, a piercing cry that the boy couldn’t seem to stop and had been all that anyone within a hundred meter radius would have heard for a good half-hour, had thankfully died down into whimpers, his throat sore though the situation was far from resolved. The fearsome delinquent had been reduced to nothing more than a sniffling baby clutching onto your well-worn sweater, one that smelt strongly of you, his tears soaking the cloth as he buried his face into the soft material.

“She time-lept again?” Baji let out a groan, hands pulling at his face, his sweat-drenched black hair plastered uncomfortably to the nape of his neck. “But how? We have the omamori.”

“And it hasn’t left me since I got it,” Draken noted, pulling down the singlet he had opted for to reveal the purple and gold charm still pressed tight against his clavicle, where he had been wearing it day and night. “I wear it even when I shower.”

The weather was sweltering, the summer afternoon sun mercilessly baking everything and everyone under its light, and the lack of even a hot breeze made the whole situation ever so less tolerable. Gathered below the shade of your favourite oak tree in a clearing not too far from your school, it was once more an unfavourable situation over which the Toman founders were gathered,

Mikey pulled a face, looking extremely unimpressed as sweat poured freely off his forehead. “Maybe it’s cause I should have been the one to wear it.”

Kazutora only whimpered again in response, his fingers wrapping around your piece of clothing even tighter. Everyone present knew what he meant without speaking.

“Drop it Mikey, that’s not the issue right now.” Mitsuya sighed out, the relief at no longer being blamed for your disappearance clear on his expression even if his distress at you being missing wasn’t any less.

A pause, the uncaring city continuing to bustle around them.

“Maybe,” Pah said carefully, the usually loud boy looking like he was concentrating extraordinarily hard on the current situation, his forehead scrunched with his chin held in one hand. “Maybe there’s another omamori in the future as well.”

The other five boys robotically turned to look at the Fifth Division Captain as if he had grown a second head, their necks stiff and creaking. They hadn’t considered that possibility in the slightest, and the unusual insight from the usually act-first-think-later boy caught them off guard.

“It makes sense,” The lilac-haired delinquent admitted, Mitsuya drawing one leg up to balance on the bench. “We hadn’t thought of it, but why wouldn’t there be this omamori in the future?”

“Could have lost it,” Draken suggested.

Mikey snorted. “No way.” To which the other founders present murmured their agreement - it would be unlikely for them to misplace something so precious. “But I agree. There must be more to just having the omamori.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Baji lamented, running one hand through his long, sweat-soaked hair. “Time’s ticking, and we don’t know what’s happening in the future. What if she’s already hurt? Or dead?”

The small gathering of boys fell silent once more. Whatever was going on with the omamori, it was clear more than ever to the Toman founders that there were still too many unanswered questions. With every tick of the watch, every passing second that you were stuck in the future and apart from the Toman founders, your safety and fate grew ever more uncertain. They needed to get you back home with them, and fast.

“So what now?”

144 notes · View notes