[ Tony's sleeping habits are what one might call non-existent, in the sense that sleep is not remotely a habit. But Peggy had been kind (and firm) in her offer for him to crash at her (and Steve's) place, so he avails himself of a safe place to crash and recharge on the rare occasion he deems it necessary. He's careful not to hang around for very long outside of those times - partially to avoid things he's not yet ready to deal with, and partially because he knows he's intruding on a happy ending he really shouldn't have been invited to.
It makes him miss Pepper, but then, doesn't everything?
Either way, tonight is one of those nights where he decides sleep is probably wise - even if, at this point in the night (morning?), it will only be a few hours at best. He slips into the apartment quietly, fully expecting to be in and out unseen.
Except, as fate would have it, he's not the only one wandering around at night.
[ She isn't his mother, she isn't about to comment on the fact that he's crept back into their flat in the dead of night (or wee hours of the morning, it's hard to tell). Peggy could be up for any number of reasons โ "Guard business," one might say, which could be enough for any vaguely curious passerby or casual acquaintance. But she doesn't often keep casual acquaintances, not in El Nysa and not during her time on Earth. It's not that they're a bother; rather, in her line of work she finds it exhausting to have to keep up a front all the time, even with the years of experience.
Then again, with Tony Stark being here that brings the grand total of people who are aware of her line of work to three. (Or three and a half; she's sure some have their suspicions. She really must be more careful.)
So, no. It's not Guard business that has her making tea at an ungodly hour of the night. Tangentially, it could be. But "spy business" is more likely; she's waiting on her next assignment from the man she plays double-agent for and no one outside of her partner is aware of that. Not even Steve. It's a secret she wishes she didn't have to keep but must in an effort to see him safe. ]
Nice of the cat to drag you in. [ She leans a hip against the edge of the dining table, mug of tea cradled in her hands. She's got a dressing gown on, her face bare of makeup, but her curls are still loose around her shoulders. She keeps her voice soft. ] Keeping busy?
[ For some reason Tony's tempted to just walk back out, like he's been caught red-handed. Doing what? Existing, kinda poorly. Whatever. The world ended, give him a break. ]
[ Dry as the Sahara, with a notable streak of motor oil on one cheek, ] Nah, I'm on a 24/7 vacation.
[ Deciding that escape is now impractical, he opts for pulling up a chair at the table instead, which he drops himself into without much ceremony. ]
You ever had one of those? I mean, obviously not. You should try it. Relaxing.
[ She huffs out a breath of amusement, taking him in with a sweep of her gaze before setting her mug in front of him. The intent is clear: you need this more than I do. She'll fuss with making another. ]
I haven't had a day off since Pearl Harbour. [ And from the look of him, she doubts he's doing anything in the way of being relaxed. ] But I'm sure you know that better than most.
[ It's a curious thing, knowing someone who has more knowledge of her life than she does โ more than Steve, who learned it in retrospect. More than Rumlow, who gleaned it from SHIELD files. Tony knows her life intimately, as family might, and that's an aspect of their relationship she hasn't entirely grappled with yet. It's not that it's difficult; it's just unusual.
The water in the kettle is still hot, so it's no trouble at all to pour another cup and settle in the chair opposite him. She surveys him for a beat, then remarks rather offhandedly, ]
You are aware the point of offering you a place to sleep was that you would actually use it for sleeping.
[ He does know that. Peggy Carter worked until she was grey, until she couldn't work anymore. He tries not to think about that too hard.
The mug is in his hand without him realizing it. He stares blankly into it for a moment - tea, he vaguely registers, not coffee - then looks back up as she begins pouring herself a second mug. Well. Guess they're gonna be here for a while. ]
Which I was totally going to do, for the record. [ He gestures grandly at the couch, as if absolving himself of some crime. ] See? I'm here and everything.
[ She smiles briefly, more a flicker than anything else, but that doesn't mean it isn't genuine. ]
Yes, you are.
[ Peggy resists the urge to make a quip about him gracing them with his presence, as she might have with his father. She's aware there's something else going on under the surface, some restlessness or unease that hasn't quite settled with time. She understands โ it's a hard pill to swallow, the idea that home is gone and this is all that's left. Especially when it's your job to make sure that sort of thing doesn't happen.
Her being here means she didn't manage to stop it in 1947. The SSR can only do so much, even if they had ample warning. But the Avengers? Her understanding is that they are Earth's mightiest heroes. But even a god has been claimed by stasis, so what more the rest of them? ]
May I ask you a question, [ she says, in a tone that suggests she isn't precisely waiting for an answer. Her voice softens around the edges, the concern sincere, although it doesn't colour her voice enough to make it seem as though she's ready to coddle or pity him. ] Are you all right?
[ Here in El Nysa, she means. Work, the city, anything โ the situation in this apartment. She knows she's under considerable strain with work, she knows Steve is still recovering from being kidnapped (mentally, not physically, although he won't say much). They are all grappling with something. ]
[ Tony's historically been a consummate liar and denier when it comes to how he's doing, and it's natural to slip into that here, in a place where he trusts almost no one. It hardly seems relevant most of the time anyway, but he knows Peggy is asking from a place of genuine concern rather than prying curiosity.
He could still lie, or deflect. Easily.
But if there's anything he's been learning the last few months, it's that his usual way of doing things isn't always the best, looking purely at previous outcomes.
So, what the hell? ]
Candidly? Not even remotely. [ He motions with his teacup, but it looks like the way someone might wave around a whiskey glass, not a cup of English breakfast. ] The world ended - which I'd spent the better part of a decade trying to prevent, by the way, it was kinda my thing - then I ended up dumped in some weird medieval-magical pageant of lies and deception with my fiancรฉe asleep in a tube, and I guess I'm just supposed to move on and play house like it's not the plot of some B-list scifi novel?
[ He takes a long sip from his elegant little teacup, desperately wishing it were something stronger.
[ More honest than his father would be with her, that's for certain. Not that she would ever say as much; Howard had his secrets, just like she did. And they are both of a generation that kept those secrets private, whatever uncertainties they may have felt or insecurities โ that all stayed buried under a veneer of professionalism (her) or bravado (him; not entirely false, either).
Is she surprised he opened up to her so readily? A little. They are effectively strangers, at least on her end of things. But she appreciates his candor. ]
Managing, [ she says at length. It seems an unequal exchange after what he's told her, but that's Peggy Carter. A young man she'd befriended has gone back to stasis. She's playing spy for a dangerous man and working for an equally dangerous woman. She wonders how long this honeymoon with Steve will truly last. ] Some days better than others. But one does what one must. I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but...
[ Contrary to popular belief, she's not always in the business of telling lies. There's a pause, and then she smiles quietly at him. ]
Congratulations on the engagement. I'm sorry the circumstances are what they are.
[ After months of silence, Cree called her and Eggsy back in. This next mission has no room for error, there's a lot at stake โ their covers, their positions with the Guard and the Council. It's not that she expected this assignment to be simple, it does no one in their profession any favours to go into it thinking that sort of thing. But given that their last one was relatively easy to accomplish under cover of darkness, to be asked to kidnap someone in broad daylight in a very public place is a leap and requires more delicate planning.
On paper, it's straightforward: Peggy and Eggsy enter the Institute at lunchtime with the former moving to secure the target while the latter is back-up. Should the situation escalate, their failsafe is to sound a fire alarm and evacuate civilians from the vicinity. They're armed, they've dealt with the Institute on numerous occasions and are familiar with the layout, they've prepared as best they could. And so when the day comes to make their move, Peggy is comfortable that they'll handle it well. She strides into the building wearing the glasses Cree gifted to her after their first assignment, which means anyone who notices her promptly forgets that she was ever there. She marks Eggsy as she passes him to enter the classroom; the glasses might work on him, too, but they have earpieces which means she can tell him she's in position even if he doesn't recall seeing her make it there.
The lecturer enters the room, is startled by her; she, in turn, is startled that he isn't alone (and is sure to say it so that Eggsy is aware: Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were meeting someone). She tells him she's a student interested in his teachings about Wyver, moves closely to incapacitate the colleague with him (not ideal, but necessary) and locks the door before doing so โ that's when all hell breaks loose. The man accompanying the target retaliates when she tries to put him into a chokehold, throwing her off of him and sending her crashing into the first row of desks. When Peggy scrambles to her feet, the professor is hiding behind his colleague whose face has hinged open to reveal the barrel of a shotgun. ]
What the fโ
[ is as much as she can get out before the robot fires a slug her way and there's no time to think; Peggy dives to avoid it, lands hard on her shoulder, draws her firearm and puts two shots in the robot. But it seems to be doing something, reloading or sending out a transmission, she isn't sure. Her bullets didn't take it out, but she can see its torso is entirely mechanical. ]
Slight problem, [ she barks into her comms, running for the target who's trying to scramble his way to the door. She slams the butt of her pistol into his temple and he crumples, unconscious. Peggy whips around as the sentry bot turns towards her, shotgun aimed. ] He has a bloody robot. [ It doesn't shoot at her yet, she can't suss out why, but she works on dragging the lecturer's dead weight with her behind his desk. ] Stay where you are, I'm...
[ ...finding another way out. The robot fires another shot right at the desk they're crouched behind, the sound washes out anything else Peggy might be telling Eggsy. ]
[ Eggsy's patrol route takes him around the Institute, though not normally inside it, which means that many lecturers and students are likely to recognise him from his wanders about the Nobles District. Fantastic. Toss in the high profile nature of his guard work in Olympia and his distinct manner of dress (the bloody suit), and there's no chance that he accomplishes this job unnoticed, not unless Peggy handles the target in record time. She spots him leaning against an ornate cabinet and fiddling with his cufflinks as an excuse to remain stationary. He resumes walking shortly after, of course, in the interest of appearing like he simply chose to inspect the Institute as part of his duties.
As soon as Peggy mentions the lecturer's plus one, Eggsy goes from alert to on-fucking-edge. He slows his stride, lingering in the hallway nearest the classroom. Just after he crosses the door once more, he spies a sentry rounding the corner. At the sight of Eggsy, its canned recording plays: "Did you know enemies of the crown's bodies are automatically donated to science? Remember that even if you have done no good in life, you will in death!" It's one of the gold types, with three holstered blades. He's about to quip into the comms โ cheery, innit? โ when he hears a crash. Then, Peggy's words cut off and a gunshot sounds. After Eggsy turns on his heel to investigate, another shot reverberates in his ear. Shit fuck shit. Eggsy quickens his pace to cover the door, distracted when the sentry interjects, its tinny voice sounding over the commotion.
"This plays when an abnormal occurrence has been witnessed. Logging for future termination."
Incidentally, that's the only warning he receives before the hunk of metal bodyslams him, sending him stumbling backwards down the center of the hallway. He barely recovers his balance before the sentry lunges after him, a series of quick stabs with its three long blades. ]
Robots โ [ He clarifies. Plural. And with feeling, ] Fucking robots.
[ He evades the first and second jabs with a sharp duck, but the third catches his left sleeve as he swerves to the right side, slicing open the fabric and skimming his skin. Blood blossoms there, trickling down his arm, like a glorified paper cut.
Why the hell did he bring a gun to swordfight? No point in reaching for his new (and very much appreciated) revolver, when firing it at a sentry will just result in ricochets. ]
[ Robots. Plural. She'd say this isn't what they signed up for, except it bloody well is. The desk she's crouched behind bears the brunt of the shot and stops it with a shudder and she breathes a sigh of relief; but then Eggsy is tackled by the robot on his end which sends sharp feedback whistling through the the earpieces and Peggy winces. ]
Eggsy, [ she says, voice sharp with concern just as much as urgency. ] Are you all right?
[ She can hear commotion but she can't get to him, not when she still needs to get their target clear. This is all going to hell in a handbasket if they don't move out quickly and she anticipates they only have fifteen minutes at best before these halls flood with unwitting students โ innocent civilians. The security bot seems to be winding up for another shot and Peggy knows she needs to take it out or at least incapacitate it before making a break for her secondary exit (the windows). So she leaves the professor behind the desk and pulls a dagger from her boot (a gift from Bucky Barnes) before charging at the thing.
It doesn't fire at her. It must be on some timer because it's tracking her movements. But she makes a run for it and slashes through the fabric and synthetic skin to get to its inner workings with the intent to jam the mechanism. It tries to throw her off but she holds on, teeth grit. ]
[ At first, Eggsy simply grunts, a vague acknowledgment that he heard her inquiry. Bit busy, Peg. Twisting and turning to avoid losing his limbs and all. Another swing of a sword grazes his cheek. Peggy's feed is a distant clamor in his ear.
Then, there's another indistinguishable clatter on his end, likely coming across as further static and feedback โ in fact, it's the sound of glass shattering and wood splintering as Eggsy pulls the nearby cabinet down between himself and the sentry. One of its blades lodges in the wood, trinkets falling to the ground amidst the robot's attempts at freeing itself by thrashing violently. Eggsy skids away from the struggle, stopping near the fire alarm. If he sounds the alarm now, the students will cross the sentry's path earlier than necessary. He still has ten-ish minutes and the nearest classroom is in the adjacent hall. Plenty of time to handle one robot, even if the noise might attract the attention of strays any moment now.
When mere struggling doesn't dislodge the Chadsef model's sword, the sentry crouches, recharging for another leap to rid itself of collateral material and pursue Eggsy. With his left hand, he arms his broach, a one-time-only shield, and clasps an electromagnetic sticky bomb with his right. Ain't getting knocked down by a tin can twice now. Squaring his stance, he braces for impact.
Great plan, Unwin. Let the heavy robot crash into you and properly rattle your skull. ]
Brilliant. [ Another sentry turns onto the far end of the hallway โ one of the tall types, the S-8 2.0 โ running toward the skirmish. Eggy inhales sharply. ] Oh, shitting hell. 'Bout to get noisy, Carter.
[ It's both literal and code, that, meaning the fire alarm will go off shortly after he takes a hit from solid metal, if Peggy has anything to add before the ringing drowns out the comms. He can't reach for the alarm now, not with the first sentry seconds from crashing into him, but it's the next item on his agenda, promise. ]
[ She can't parse what he means by that beyond the literal โ the fighting, their backup plan โ because she's a bit busy on her own end of things. The robot is doing it's damnedest to throw her off and she's hanging on with a stubborn grip, trying the slot the blade of her dagger in amongst the cogs and gears to jam its movements. It only partially works: one arm goes dead, but she hears the telltale click from the cocking of a gun and she swears as the head angles down to try and get a shot at her. ]
You're telling me. [ She releases her dagger, leaving it where it is, and drops to the robot's feet, rolling out of the way just as it fires off another round. It misses her by inches, clean over her head and shattering the glass window behind her. Perfect. Her exit. ] I'm almost clear, [ she's telling Eggsy. The robot sounds like it's limping after her but it doesn't shoot again so she starts counting. One, two, three... ] Hold them off 'til then.
[ She just has to hope his suit and skills can handle whatever the Institute is throwing his way, long enough for her to get the professor out and run back in to help him. Peggy crawls on hands and knees to get behind the desk, haul the professor up with a strength she alone doesn't possess but does thanks to the Pact that binds her to Steve Rogers. (The Pact done by shamans jut like the one she's dragging out of this building. Figures.)
... seven, eight, nine...
She's almost to the window, pushing the unconscious man out first, when another shot rings out โ and clips her left thigh. She cries out, staggers, hisses in a sharp breath to rein it all back in. ]
[ A glance at the clock tells him they have five minutes until the lecturers release their students.
Every shot makes his heart stutter, flashing images of Harry in the church โ no, Harry outside the church, shot point blank on a sunny day in the American south. He thinks, maybe, his heart actually stops when Peggy cries out. ]
Peggy? [ His voice hitches halfway through, ticking up on the last note of her name. It takes every bit of his training to remain still instead of bolting to her. ] Peggy.
[ Please, please, please, please respond. No time to dwell, however, with the Chadsef sentry leaping forward. Despite the distractions, Eggsy holds his ground, waiting until the last moment to activate his shield. The force of the collision sends a tremor down his spine and forces a groan past his lips. Worse, the strength of the sentry leads him to take slow steps backward, lest he lose his footing trying to best it. To Eggsy's credit, his gamble ultimately pays off: The shield contains the worst of the blows, taking the subsequent slashes until the sentry exhausts its energy. As it enters recharge mode, Eggsy shuts down his shield and slaps an electromagnetic sticky bomb on the top of Chadsef's head. Fuck yes. The charge pops its arms from its sockets and sends one sword clattering to the ground. Only for ten seconds, he reminds himself, clock ticking away in his head. Eggsy follows up with a series of quick punches, doubled in force by Cree's gifted brass knuckles, and succeeds in knocking its arms away.
Up ahead, the S-8 sentry nears. Four, three, two โ Eggsy grasps the fallen sword and jumps aside a second ahead of the Chadsef's launch. Even without arms, it still has its weight to swing around. After a stumble, it swivels to crouch and reset. God, he hates robots. ]
Shitfuckshit โ [ His audio is a string of curses, cut off by the fire alarm ringing overhead. ]
[ Now all he has to do is fight one robot (with a goddamn sword), while dodging the other one, and keeping both away from the students pouring out the doors. A few shout at the sight, and Eggsy wonders if anyone will submit a report to the Guard or the Empress, if they even know what they're seeing, besides the back of his head. Jesus, what if he has to move to Wyver?
[ It's not the worst injury she's endured nor the first time she's been shot, but a shotgun slug to the leg ranks quite high on her list of things she'd rather not repeat. She can feel the blood soaking through her trousers, but as she hauls herself back up by an iron grip on the windowsill, she finds she can still put weight on her leg โ it's unpleasant and it's shaky, but not unbearable โ which means the bone isn't broken. Small mercies.
Eggsy's shouts filters in through the ringing of their comms, somehow audible above the din of the alarm, and she doesn't know how many seconds have passed between the shot being fired and now, but she sucks in another breath, tamps down on the pain, and grits out: ]
Took a hit, [ no use in lying ] still here. Bastards take ten seconds to reload. [ She has to disable this robot before leaving. Otherwise it'll give chase or worse, give up and turn around to go after Eggsy in the corridors. Peggy peers out the window and sees the professor crumpled on the shrubbery below and doesn't think he's going anywhere. Louder: ] Hang on, Eggsy.
[ The robot can't possibly have an infinite number of slugs. From her understanding of rifles, she guesses it has four left. It ambles closer to her which works in her favour because she wants to get in and jam up its insides good and proper. Once it's within range, she wrenches her dagger free from the torso and goes in again, stabbing it up through the chin and lodging the blade into the inner workings of its head.
The robot, likely seconds from firing off another shot, goes dead in front of her and she sags into the windowsill she's backed up against. Jesus Christ. She pulls the dagger out again after giving it a good twist for good measure, then scrambles out the window, landing partly on top of the professor.
So far, so terrible. But they're out. ]
I'm clear, [ she gasps into the comms, slinging the professor's arm over her shoulder now. Miraculously, her glasses have stayed on her face, which means anyone who sees her won't remember her being there at all.But she means to keep up appearances as a Guard helping a member of faculty caught in the crossfire of an Institute creation gone rogue. (Again.) It's the only story that can save them now. ] I have him. Do you read?
[ Her voice washes over him, more of a relief than heโll vocalise in the present moment. ]
Still here!
[ Between the ringing and the students leaving the building, the clumsy kiss of blades hardly registers on the comms. Not so in life, with Eggsyโs arms vibrating and aching from a series of parries. If he was some posh twat, he wouldโve been fencing since birth. As it stands, he only recently picked up steel, and the sentryโs slashes are far more precise his own. He canโt even recall when another cut blossomed on his thigh, only that he sees more blood dotting his Oxfords when he dives aside.
The move reveals the sentryโs weakness: Although the S-8 model finds success with its target locked in close combat, it displays trouble in adjusting its course. And if thereโs one skill Eggsy considers his ace, itโs his light-footed flexibility. Gotcha. โCourse out of the corner of his eye, he notices the Chadsef sentry rushing back into the fray, blades swinging erratically at its sides. Best neutralise one of these brustbuckets before they double team him.
He feints and evades the S-8 model, ducking under its swing to place a charge on the back of its neck and thereby putting one bot between himself and the other โ a human shield tactic. Well, a robot shield.
His mental countdown begins again. ]
[ firmly โ ] Keep going. [ without him, if she can. While he doesnโt know what state the mark is in and can only assume Peggy downplays any injuries, Eggsy knows she wonโt fail.]
[ With the S-8 timed out, it exposes the inner mechanics of its chest, as vulnerable as any human heart. He forces his stolen blade into the gears and hears the tell-tale clatter of a jam in reply. His subsequent sharp kick sends it tumbling over, into the Chadsef model.
One terminator sorted. ]
Iโll catch up. Swear down.
[ Two blades and zero arms make the Chadsef into a far more manageable opponent, after all. ]
[ She can't hear the threatening swish of blades slicing through the air, not over the alarm, but she can hear the clash of the swords as they connect and Eggsy's grunts of effort. His swearing. It's her only assurance he's all right and holding his own until he answers her.
Her plan, of course, is to deposit their target somewhere safe and run back in to help. But she's still staggering her way across the grounds, each step a sharp flash of pain, dragging the professor's dead weight, looking for the best place to leave him to do just that. Then she hears the next thing, the subtext beneath it: keep going without me. She pulls up short, snaps back: ]
Are you mad? [ Of all the absurd notions! ] I am not leaving you!
[ It's not even that she doubts he can handle the mechanical monstrosities coming his way, she knows he's more than capable, but he's out in the open for all these students and faculty to see. It could spell trouble down the road. She finds a storage shed, drags the shaman inside. He stirs just as she dumps him on some potting soil and she swears out loud when she realises she has no choice but to do what she didn't want to do: use her special lipstick. Christ.
She leans in and plants a firm, close-lipped kiss on his mouth. (Yes, of course she wore the lipstick this time around. Bloody hell.) The sedative in the formula gets to work and he slumps again, out like a light. Peggy grimaces, wipes the lipstick from her mouth on the back of her sleeve, hastily ties him up with a length of garden hose, then turns to hurry back inside. (As fast as she can manage on a leg that is weeping blood and quickly refusing to take her weight. She stumbles, catches herself on a wall; her hand stings and only then does she realise she's cut herself up climbing through the shattered window.) ]
Target secure. [ And he wasn't light. She's trying to catch her breath. Or maybe that's the gunshot. ] What's your position?
[ A crunch of metal indicates that he landed another hit on the remaining sentry. Fat lot of good that does him without having temporarily deactivating it beforehand. His preferred strategy of evasion (tiring out his opponent, rather than diving into a fight with someone taller or stronger) and sudden counterattacks is essentially useless against a robot with endless stamina.
'Course it does allow him to draw the sentry into the lecture room that Peggy recently vacated, out of the line of sight of the hallway. With his glasses and suit on, he doesn't cut the same plain black and snapback-wearing figure as usual, but there remains the possibility that someone recognised him, even as they exited the building. Seeing as people will soon come to inspect the area in search of a fire, he'd rather not stick around to give someone a second look. ]
It ain't leaving if I'm following! [ A blade nearly slices open his chest, claiming his tie as its victim. Fuck's sake, again? He's going to show up to the Gilded Cage looking like he went through a shredder. ] Jesus Christ โ [ he vaults over the first row the toppled desks. Same tactic as before: Enough distance and shielding to survive the Chadsef's deadly leap-and-stab combo before slapping a bomb on its hulking head. ]
I'm en route. [ The reply comes easily, even though it isn't true in the strictest sense of the term โ they're bloody spies; he's allowed to fudge things. And Eggsy would argue that although his route contains obstructions, he's actively pursuing it. The lie is the equivalent of texting your mates on the tube! when you actually only just left your flat. Totally defensible. He lifts one of the desks, noting how light it is. Not half as sturdy as his one-time-only magic shield, the cabinet, or the fucking robot. The collision that follows sounds much like the first: All fracturing wood. Eggsy's voice barely rises above it, a pained hiss over the comms. The plan finishes strong, at least, with a successfully deployed bomb. This time, Eggsy drops low, swinging his leg under the sentry's remaining limbs to dismember it fully. It crashes to the ground with a satisfying thud. ]
Right โ [ a sharp inhale. ] โ behind you. [ Carter already sorted the exit. The broken glass even startles a laugh out him, half breathless. Both his arms sting, but it's the left that sports his most recent, deepest gash. Bulletproof doesn't mean bladeproof, apparently, but the suit protected him from the worst of it. Shallow cuts, for the most part. His thigh looks worse than it is (or so he reckons), with dried blood sticking his Kingsman fabric to his skin. The arm though, now that could be stitches material. ] Where are you again?
[ See, Eggsy makes good on his little lie. En route, indeed, climbing out the window. ]
[ They're bloody spies and they've made an absolute cock up of this assignment. She's sure Cree won't mind too much, they've accomplished the damn thing, but she sure as hell will have a bone to pick with him if he knew they'd face this level of opposition and didn't bloody warn them. "Be armed should Ms Carter's assignment go awry," indeed.
Awry. She'll show you "awry." ]
Southwest corner, storage shed.
[ But she'd been making her way back to the window so they may just meet in the middle. Her pace is slow-going, though, even with the adrenaline pumping through her veins and her soldier's stamina (that's all her, too, not Steve's via the Pact). It's just as well she doesn't make it back into the Institute, she probably wouldn't have been able to move as effortlessly as Eggsy to avoid getting sliced to ribbons.
When she spots him clambering out the window, she stops and leans one shoulder heavily against the stone wall of the building, more in relief to see him making it out than pain. (All right, pain too.) ]
Christ, [ she exhales, too soft for the comms to pick up. She reaches up to pull the glasses off her face before he's within range and rests the bridge of her nose against the backs of her knuckles, eyes closing briefly. She doesn't open them until she can hear him approaching. ] We need to go.
[ They meet halfway, with Eggsy in the midst of some self-treatment, wrapping the remainder of his tie around his arm to slow bloodflow to the gash there (and managing to tie it with one hand and his teeth; now that's a bar trick). The wound in Peggy's thigh makes his mouth twist downward. It's not worse than what he imagined, given the creative images his mind supplied at every sound of pain, but it's not good, either. He runs scenarios (Go back to my place and I'll call for help), but he knows Peggy won't accept either, not until they've finished the job.
Instead, he falls into step beside her as they turn around to retrieve the target together. ]
You look like shit. [ says the man who looks like he got off easy in a slasher film, thin red lines scattered across his skin and his precious suit littered with openings. ]
[ At least I'm only bleeding from one place, she thinks with a dry glance his way. But what she says is: ]
Look in a mirror lately?
[ Not her finest retort, but there's work to be done. He's alive and in one piece, she can fuss over the particulars when they're somewhere safe and secure. There's a strip of fabric hanging haphazardly off his jacket and she literally reaches out to help herself to it โ it's not hard to tear off, the threads give way immediately, and she doesn't even bother apologising before using Kingsman-grade bulletproof suiting fabric to bind up her leg until she can get it attended to.
She tries to put her weight on it, hissing in lieu of the litany of curses behind her teeth, and she shakes her head quickly and braces herself on his shoulder. No good. Damn. ]
Keep going. [ She has no qualms about using him as support, she keeps pace well enough as they head back towards the shed. In the near distance, the alarm is still going. Once it cuts out, once people start investigating, what's left of their clean escape will be dashed. Once they reach the shed, Peggy nods. ] He's in there. Let's hope the Cage's door is feeling especially courteous this afternoon, otherwise we won't make it far without being spotted.
[ No need to verbally acknowledge how she leans on him, exposing the severity of her injury. He loops an arm around her waist in a quiet attempt to better support her. When he pulls away to open the door, it's a reluctant shift. A lingering glance over his shoulder assures him that she's found her balance.
The sight of the lecturer ahead, passed out on the ground, brings to mind their recent discussion of knockout lipstick. Jesus Christ. Figures. He crouches to check the bloke's pulse, feeling his thigh smart on the way down (and ignoring the pain; no time for an alternative). Hoisting him up ain't so bad โ he must be of a height with Eggsy, otherwise it would be harder. Even so, he grunts as he rises to his feet. One of the elbows of his suit gives out on the way, another tear, with the white of his button-up peaking out from underneath, flecked with red from his various injuries. The lecturer's head lolls against his shoulder. Creepy.
At the back of the shed, he notices a gleam of something.
[ She shakes her head when he looks back at her, a reassurance that it's all right, she can manage. While Eggsy busies himself with their kidnapped spy, Peggy braces herself on the doorway of the shed and keeps watch โ peering over her shoulder to make sure they weren't followed or that no one has noticed them (her hand is hovering over her pistol, regardless). The coast remains clear and she doesn't look back to Eggsy until she hears the rending of more fabric.
For some reason, she thinks of what a pity it is Mr DeVere isn't here to mend that suit. But she supposes even a man of his expertise might consider it a lost cause. Peggy flicks her gaze over the rest of him, assessing the injuries she can make out, frowning all the while. She never saw the robots he was up against, but she can guess easily enough that they were armed with swords.
Lovely. ]
Oh? [ He draws her attention to the back and she straightens, stepping more fully into the shed and shutting the main door behind her. Peggy half-hops towards the new entrance and pushes the gardening tools out of the way to clear their path. ] First bit of hospitality I've seen all day.
[ And with that, she opens the door and holds out an arm, lips pressed into a grim smile. ]
[ Oh, very funny, Carter. One corner of his mouth hooks into a wry smile. ]
Cheers.
[ His first steps with the limp lecturer are clumsy, but he establishes a rhythm soon enough. The journey through the door and to the drop point within the Gilded Cage is relatively short, too. They don't see any of the other double agents. Thank fuck. Eggsy doesn't feel especially chatty after his long afternoon. Besides, they both need medical attention. Best make this quick.
Before they leave, he hesitates. Eggsy Unwin wouldn't shoot his dog for an organisation worth his trust โ and yet today, he leaves a person in the hands of a relatively unknown quantity. 'Course kidnapping isn't the same as killing. Hopefully, Cree sees fit to provide him and Carter with greater information after this harrowing endeavor. ]
[ It's late in the evening when Peggy finally returns home. The assignment Cree had given her took place around lunch earlier that day and she had holed up in Eggsy's apartment in the aftermath, tending to her injuries as well as his (and meeting his roommate, who now knows more about her and her work than Steve). If news and rumours about what happened at the Institute had spread around the city and possibly reached Steve's ears, she doesn't know about it, preoccupied as she was. And even if word did get out, what would it say? A false alarm for a fire that didn't exist and a few robots gone rogue in the hallways. Supposedly a fight broke out, but no one saw who engaged in it or recognised faces.
Small blessings, given that Peggy and Eggsy kidnapped an ex-shaman from the campus and delivered him to the man running El Nysa's underground. There may still be consequences for that, but they haven't encountered any yet.
Although with Peggy limping her way into her apartment under cover of darkness, that may change. Her left leg can barely take her weight, although the ugly shotgun graze is heavily bandaged by now. She just wants to change out of her work clothes, crawl into bed next to Steve, and fall asleep. Maybe she manages it โ and whatever talk that should be had between them can happen in the morning. She's too bone-tired for it now. ]
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early May, at an hour considered "in-advisably late"
It makes him miss Pepper, but then, doesn't everything?
Either way, tonight is one of those nights where he decides sleep is probably wise - even if, at this point in the night (morning?), it will only be a few hours at best. He slips into the apartment quietly, fully expecting to be in and out unseen.
Except, as fate would have it, he's not the only one wandering around at night.
The eyebrow goes up. ]
Kinda late, isn't it?
[ The hypocrite says, hypocritically. ]
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[ She isn't his mother, she isn't about to comment on the fact that he's crept back into their flat in the dead of night (or wee hours of the morning, it's hard to tell). Peggy could be up for any number of reasons โ "Guard business," one might say, which could be enough for any vaguely curious passerby or casual acquaintance. But she doesn't often keep casual acquaintances, not in El Nysa and not during her time on Earth. It's not that they're a bother; rather, in her line of work she finds it exhausting to have to keep up a front all the time, even with the years of experience.
Then again, with Tony Stark being here that brings the grand total of people who are aware of her line of work to three. (Or three and a half; she's sure some have their suspicions. She really must be more careful.)
So, no. It's not Guard business that has her making tea at an ungodly hour of the night. Tangentially, it could be. But "spy business" is more likely; she's waiting on her next assignment from the man she plays double-agent for and no one outside of her partner is aware of that. Not even Steve. It's a secret she wishes she didn't have to keep but must in an effort to see him safe. ]
Nice of the cat to drag you in. [ She leans a hip against the edge of the dining table, mug of tea cradled in her hands. She's got a dressing gown on, her face bare of makeup, but her curls are still loose around her shoulders. She keeps her voice soft. ] Keeping busy?
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[ Dry as the Sahara, with a notable streak of motor oil on one cheek, ] Nah, I'm on a 24/7 vacation.
[ Deciding that escape is now impractical, he opts for pulling up a chair at the table instead, which he drops himself into without much ceremony. ]
You ever had one of those? I mean, obviously not. You should try it. Relaxing.
[ He doesn't look remotely relaxed. It's Fine. ]
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I haven't had a day off since Pearl Harbour. [ And from the look of him, she doubts he's doing anything in the way of being relaxed. ] But I'm sure you know that better than most.
[ It's a curious thing, knowing someone who has more knowledge of her life than she does โ more than Steve, who learned it in retrospect. More than Rumlow, who gleaned it from SHIELD files. Tony knows her life intimately, as family might, and that's an aspect of their relationship she hasn't entirely grappled with yet. It's not that it's difficult; it's just unusual.
The water in the kettle is still hot, so it's no trouble at all to pour another cup and settle in the chair opposite him. She surveys him for a beat, then remarks rather offhandedly, ]
You are aware the point of offering you a place to sleep was that you would actually use it for sleeping.
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The mug is in his hand without him realizing it. He stares blankly into it for a moment - tea, he vaguely registers, not coffee - then looks back up as she begins pouring herself a second mug. Well. Guess they're gonna be here for a while. ]
Which I was totally going to do, for the record. [ He gestures grandly at the couch, as if absolving himself of some crime. ] See? I'm here and everything.
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Yes, you are.
[ Peggy resists the urge to make a quip about him gracing them with his presence, as she might have with his father. She's aware there's something else going on under the surface, some restlessness or unease that hasn't quite settled with time. She understands โ it's a hard pill to swallow, the idea that home is gone and this is all that's left. Especially when it's your job to make sure that sort of thing doesn't happen.
Her being here means she didn't manage to stop it in 1947. The SSR can only do so much, even if they had ample warning. But the Avengers? Her understanding is that they are Earth's mightiest heroes. But even a god has been claimed by stasis, so what more the rest of them? ]
May I ask you a question, [ she says, in a tone that suggests she isn't precisely waiting for an answer. Her voice softens around the edges, the concern sincere, although it doesn't colour her voice enough to make it seem as though she's ready to coddle or pity him. ] Are you all right?
[ Here in El Nysa, she means. Work, the city, anything โ the situation in this apartment. She knows she's under considerable strain with work, she knows Steve is still recovering from being kidnapped (mentally, not physically, although he won't say much). They are all grappling with something. ]
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He could still lie, or deflect. Easily.
But if there's anything he's been learning the last few months, it's that his usual way of doing things isn't always the best, looking purely at previous outcomes.
So, what the hell? ]
Candidly? Not even remotely. [ He motions with his teacup, but it looks like the way someone might wave around a whiskey glass, not a cup of English breakfast. ] The world ended - which I'd spent the better part of a decade trying to prevent, by the way, it was kinda my thing - then I ended up dumped in some weird medieval-magical pageant of lies and deception with my fiancรฉe asleep in a tube, and I guess I'm just supposed to move on and play house like it's not the plot of some B-list scifi novel?
[ He takes a long sip from his elegant little teacup, desperately wishing it were something stronger.
ANYWAY. Deadpanned, ]
Thanks for asking, how're you?
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Is she surprised he opened up to her so readily? A little. They are effectively strangers, at least on her end of things. But she appreciates his candor. ]
Managing, [ she says at length. It seems an unequal exchange after what he's told her, but that's Peggy Carter. A young man she'd befriended has gone back to stasis. She's playing spy for a dangerous man and working for an equally dangerous woman. She wonders how long this honeymoon with Steve will truly last. ] Some days better than others. But one does what one must. I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but...
[ Contrary to popular belief, she's not always in the business of telling lies. There's a pause, and then she smiles quietly at him. ]
Congratulations on the engagement. I'm sorry the circumstances are what they are.
eggsy unwin | quest | before may 31
On paper, it's straightforward: Peggy and Eggsy enter the Institute at lunchtime with the former moving to secure the target while the latter is back-up. Should the situation escalate, their failsafe is to sound a fire alarm and evacuate civilians from the vicinity. They're armed, they've dealt with the Institute on numerous occasions and are familiar with the layout, they've prepared as best they could. And so when the day comes to make their move, Peggy is comfortable that they'll handle it well. She strides into the building wearing the glasses Cree gifted to her after their first assignment, which means anyone who notices her promptly forgets that she was ever there. She marks Eggsy as she passes him to enter the classroom; the glasses might work on him, too, but they have earpieces which means she can tell him she's in position even if he doesn't recall seeing her make it there.
The lecturer enters the room, is startled by her; she, in turn, is startled that he isn't alone (and is sure to say it so that Eggsy is aware: Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were meeting someone). She tells him she's a student interested in his teachings about Wyver, moves closely to incapacitate the colleague with him (not ideal, but necessary) and locks the door before doing so โ that's when all hell breaks loose. The man accompanying the target retaliates when she tries to put him into a chokehold, throwing her off of him and sending her crashing into the first row of desks. When Peggy scrambles to her feet, the professor is hiding behind his colleague whose face has hinged open to reveal the barrel of a shotgun. ]
What the fโ
[ is as much as she can get out before the robot fires a slug her way and there's no time to think; Peggy dives to avoid it, lands hard on her shoulder, draws her firearm and puts two shots in the robot. But it seems to be doing something, reloading or sending out a transmission, she isn't sure. Her bullets didn't take it out, but she can see its torso is entirely mechanical. ]
Slight problem, [ she barks into her comms, running for the target who's trying to scramble his way to the door. She slams the butt of her pistol into his temple and he crumples, unconscious. Peggy whips around as the sentry bot turns towards her, shotgun aimed. ] He has a bloody robot. [ It doesn't shoot at her yet, she can't suss out why, but she works on dragging the lecturer's dead weight with her behind his desk. ] Stay where you are, I'm...
[ ...finding another way out. The robot fires another shot right at the desk they're crouched behind, the sound washes out anything else Peggy might be telling Eggsy. ]
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As soon as Peggy mentions the lecturer's plus one, Eggsy goes from alert to on-fucking-edge. He slows his stride, lingering in the hallway nearest the classroom. Just after he crosses the door once more, he spies a sentry rounding the corner. At the sight of Eggsy, its canned recording plays: "Did you know enemies of the crown's bodies are automatically donated to science? Remember that even if you have done no good in life, you will in death!" It's one of the gold types, with three holstered blades. He's about to quip into the comms โ cheery, innit? โ when he hears a crash. Then, Peggy's words cut off and a gunshot sounds. After Eggsy turns on his heel to investigate, another shot reverberates in his ear. Shit fuck shit. Eggsy quickens his pace to cover the door, distracted when the sentry interjects, its tinny voice sounding over the commotion.
"This plays when an abnormal occurrence has been witnessed. Logging for future termination."
Incidentally, that's the only warning he receives before the hunk of metal bodyslams him, sending him stumbling backwards down the center of the hallway. He barely recovers his balance before the sentry lunges after him, a series of quick stabs with its three long blades. ]
Robots โ [ He clarifies. Plural. And with feeling, ] Fucking robots.
[ He evades the first and second jabs with a sharp duck, but the third catches his left sleeve as he swerves to the right side, slicing open the fabric and skimming his skin. Blood blossoms there, trickling down his arm, like a glorified paper cut.
Why the hell did he bring a gun to swordfight? No point in reaching for his new (and very much appreciated) revolver, when firing it at a sentry will just result in ricochets. ]
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Eggsy, [ she says, voice sharp with concern just as much as urgency. ] Are you all right?
[ She can hear commotion but she can't get to him, not when she still needs to get their target clear. This is all going to hell in a handbasket if they don't move out quickly and she anticipates they only have fifteen minutes at best before these halls flood with unwitting students โ innocent civilians. The security bot seems to be winding up for another shot and Peggy knows she needs to take it out or at least incapacitate it before making a break for her secondary exit (the windows). So she leaves the professor behind the desk and pulls a dagger from her boot (a gift from Bucky Barnes) before charging at the thing.
It doesn't fire at her. It must be on some timer because it's tracking her movements. But she makes a run for it and slashes through the fabric and synthetic skin to get to its inner workings with the intent to jam the mechanism. It tries to throw her off but she holds on, teeth grit. ]
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Then, there's another indistinguishable clatter on his end, likely coming across as further static and feedback โ in fact, it's the sound of glass shattering and wood splintering as Eggsy pulls the nearby cabinet down between himself and the sentry. One of its blades lodges in the wood, trinkets falling to the ground amidst the robot's attempts at freeing itself by thrashing violently. Eggsy skids away from the struggle, stopping near the fire alarm. If he sounds the alarm now, the students will cross the sentry's path earlier than necessary. He still has ten-ish minutes and the nearest classroom is in the adjacent hall. Plenty of time to handle one robot, even if the noise might attract the attention of strays any moment now.
When mere struggling doesn't dislodge the Chadsef model's sword, the sentry crouches, recharging for another leap to rid itself of collateral material and pursue Eggsy. With his left hand, he arms his broach, a one-time-only shield, and clasps an electromagnetic sticky bomb with his right. Ain't getting knocked down by a tin can twice now. Squaring his stance, he braces for impact.
Great plan, Unwin. Let the heavy robot crash into you and properly rattle your skull. ]
Brilliant. [ Another sentry turns onto the far end of the hallway โ one of the tall types, the S-8 2.0 โ running toward the skirmish. Eggy inhales sharply. ] Oh, shitting hell. 'Bout to get noisy, Carter.
[ It's both literal and code, that, meaning the fire alarm will go off shortly after he takes a hit from solid metal, if Peggy has anything to add before the ringing drowns out the comms. He can't reach for the alarm now, not with the first sentry seconds from crashing into him, but it's the next item on his agenda, promise. ]
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You're telling me. [ She releases her dagger, leaving it where it is, and drops to the robot's feet, rolling out of the way just as it fires off another round. It misses her by inches, clean over her head and shattering the glass window behind her. Perfect. Her exit. ] I'm almost clear, [ she's telling Eggsy. The robot sounds like it's limping after her but it doesn't shoot again so she starts counting. One, two, three... ] Hold them off 'til then.
[ She just has to hope his suit and skills can handle whatever the Institute is throwing his way, long enough for her to get the professor out and run back in to help him. Peggy crawls on hands and knees to get behind the desk, haul the professor up with a strength she alone doesn't possess but does thanks to the Pact that binds her to Steve Rogers. (The Pact done by shamans jut like the one she's dragging out of this building. Figures.)
... seven, eight, nine...
She's almost to the window, pushing the unconscious man out first, when another shot rings out โ and clips her left thigh. She cries out, staggers, hisses in a sharp breath to rein it all back in. ]
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Every shot makes his heart stutter, flashing images of Harry in the church โ no, Harry outside the church, shot point blank on a sunny day in the American south. He thinks, maybe, his heart actually stops when Peggy cries out. ]
Peggy? [ His voice hitches halfway through, ticking up on the last note of her name. It takes every bit of his training to remain still instead of bolting to her. ] Peggy.
[ Please, please, please, please respond. No time to dwell, however, with the Chadsef sentry leaping forward. Despite the distractions, Eggsy holds his ground, waiting until the last moment to activate his shield. The force of the collision sends a tremor down his spine and forces a groan past his lips. Worse, the strength of the sentry leads him to take slow steps backward, lest he lose his footing trying to best it. To Eggsy's credit, his gamble ultimately pays off: The shield contains the worst of the blows, taking the subsequent slashes until the sentry exhausts its energy. As it enters recharge mode, Eggsy shuts down his shield and slaps an electromagnetic sticky bomb on the top of Chadsef's head. Fuck yes. The charge pops its arms from its sockets and sends one sword clattering to the ground. Only for ten seconds, he reminds himself, clock ticking away in his head. Eggsy follows up with a series of quick punches, doubled in force by Cree's gifted brass knuckles, and succeeds in knocking its arms away.
Up ahead, the S-8 sentry nears. Four, three, two โ Eggsy grasps the fallen sword and jumps aside a second ahead of the Chadsef's launch. Even without arms, it still has its weight to swing around. After a stumble, it swivels to crouch and reset. God, he hates robots. ]
Shitfuckshit โ [ His audio is a string of curses, cut off by the fire alarm ringing overhead. ]
[ Now all he has to do is fight one robot (with a goddamn sword), while dodging the other one, and keeping both away from the students pouring out the doors. A few shout at the sight, and Eggsy wonders if anyone will submit a report to the Guard or the Empress, if they even know what they're seeing, besides the back of his head. Jesus, what if he has to move to Wyver?
Roxy's gonna be pissed. ]
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Eggsy's shouts filters in through the ringing of their comms, somehow audible above the din of the alarm, and she doesn't know how many seconds have passed between the shot being fired and now, but she sucks in another breath, tamps down on the pain, and grits out: ]
Took a hit, [ no use in lying ] still here. Bastards take ten seconds to reload. [ She has to disable this robot before leaving. Otherwise it'll give chase or worse, give up and turn around to go after Eggsy in the corridors. Peggy peers out the window and sees the professor crumpled on the shrubbery below and doesn't think he's going anywhere. Louder: ] Hang on, Eggsy.
[ The robot can't possibly have an infinite number of slugs. From her understanding of rifles, she guesses it has four left. It ambles closer to her which works in her favour because she wants to get in and jam up its insides good and proper. Once it's within range, she wrenches her dagger free from the torso and goes in again, stabbing it up through the chin and lodging the blade into the inner workings of its head.
The robot, likely seconds from firing off another shot, goes dead in front of her and she sags into the windowsill she's backed up against. Jesus Christ. She pulls the dagger out again after giving it a good twist for good measure, then scrambles out the window, landing partly on top of the professor.
So far, so terrible. But they're out. ]
I'm clear, [ she gasps into the comms, slinging the professor's arm over her shoulder now. Miraculously, her glasses have stayed on her face, which means anyone who sees her won't remember her being there at all.But she means to keep up appearances as a Guard helping a member of faculty caught in the crossfire of an Institute creation gone rogue. (Again.) It's the only story that can save them now. ] I have him. Do you read?
no subject
Still here!
[ Between the ringing and the students leaving the building, the clumsy kiss of blades hardly registers on the comms. Not so in life, with Eggsyโs arms vibrating and aching from a series of parries. If he was some posh twat, he wouldโve been fencing since birth. As it stands, he only recently picked up steel, and the sentryโs slashes are far more precise his own. He canโt even recall when another cut blossomed on his thigh, only that he sees more blood dotting his Oxfords when he dives aside.
The move reveals the sentryโs weakness: Although the S-8 model finds success with its target locked in close combat, it displays trouble in adjusting its course. And if thereโs one skill Eggsy considers his ace, itโs his light-footed flexibility. Gotcha. โCourse out of the corner of his eye, he notices the Chadsef sentry rushing back into the fray, blades swinging erratically at its sides. Best neutralise one of these brustbuckets before they double team him.
He feints and evades the S-8 model, ducking under its swing to place a charge on the back of its neck and thereby putting one bot between himself and the other โ a human shield tactic. Well, a robot shield.
His mental countdown begins again. ]
[ firmly โ ] Keep going. [ without him, if she can. While he doesnโt know what state the mark is in and can only assume Peggy downplays any injuries, Eggsy knows she wonโt fail.]
[ With the S-8 timed out, it exposes the inner mechanics of its chest, as vulnerable as any human heart. He forces his stolen blade into the gears and hears the tell-tale clatter of a jam in reply. His subsequent sharp kick sends it tumbling over, into the Chadsef model.
One terminator sorted. ]
Iโll catch up. Swear down.
[ Two blades and zero arms make the Chadsef into a far more manageable opponent, after all. ]
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Her plan, of course, is to deposit their target somewhere safe and run back in to help. But she's still staggering her way across the grounds, each step a sharp flash of pain, dragging the professor's dead weight, looking for the best place to leave him to do just that. Then she hears the next thing, the subtext beneath it: keep going without me. She pulls up short, snaps back: ]
Are you mad? [ Of all the absurd notions! ] I am not leaving you!
[ It's not even that she doubts he can handle the mechanical monstrosities coming his way, she knows he's more than capable, but he's out in the open for all these students and faculty to see. It could spell trouble down the road. She finds a storage shed, drags the shaman inside. He stirs just as she dumps him on some potting soil and she swears out loud when she realises she has no choice but to do what she didn't want to do: use her special lipstick. Christ.
She leans in and plants a firm, close-lipped kiss on his mouth. (Yes, of course she wore the lipstick this time around. Bloody hell.) The sedative in the formula gets to work and he slumps again, out like a light. Peggy grimaces, wipes the lipstick from her mouth on the back of her sleeve, hastily ties him up with a length of garden hose, then turns to hurry back inside. (As fast as she can manage on a leg that is weeping blood and quickly refusing to take her weight. She stumbles, catches herself on a wall; her hand stings and only then does she realise she's cut herself up climbing through the shattered window.) ]
Target secure. [ And he wasn't light. She's trying to catch her breath. Or maybe that's the gunshot. ] What's your position?
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'Course it does allow him to draw the sentry into the lecture room that Peggy recently vacated, out of the line of sight of the hallway. With his glasses and suit on, he doesn't cut the same plain black and snapback-wearing figure as usual, but there remains the possibility that someone recognised him, even as they exited the building. Seeing as people will soon come to inspect the area in search of a fire, he'd rather not stick around to give someone a second look. ]
It ain't leaving if I'm following! [ A blade nearly slices open his chest, claiming his tie as its victim. Fuck's sake, again? He's going to show up to the Gilded Cage looking like he went through a shredder. ] Jesus Christ โ [ he vaults over the first row the toppled desks. Same tactic as before: Enough distance and shielding to survive the Chadsef's deadly leap-and-stab combo before slapping a bomb on its hulking head. ]
I'm en route. [ The reply comes easily, even though it isn't true in the strictest sense of the term โ they're bloody spies; he's allowed to fudge things. And Eggsy would argue that although his route contains obstructions, he's actively pursuing it. The lie is the equivalent of texting your mates on the tube! when you actually only just left your flat. Totally defensible. He lifts one of the desks, noting how light it is. Not half as sturdy as his one-time-only magic shield, the cabinet, or the fucking robot. The collision that follows sounds much like the first: All fracturing wood. Eggsy's voice barely rises above it, a pained hiss over the comms. The plan finishes strong, at least, with a successfully deployed bomb. This time, Eggsy drops low, swinging his leg under the sentry's remaining limbs to dismember it fully. It crashes to the ground with a satisfying thud. ]
Right โ [ a sharp inhale. ] โ behind you. [ Carter already sorted the exit. The broken glass even startles a laugh out him, half breathless. Both his arms sting, but it's the left that sports his most recent, deepest gash. Bulletproof doesn't mean bladeproof, apparently, but the suit protected him from the worst of it. Shallow cuts, for the most part. His thigh looks worse than it is (or so he reckons), with dried blood sticking his Kingsman fabric to his skin. The arm though, now that could be stitches material. ] Where are you again?
[ See, Eggsy makes good on his little lie. En route, indeed, climbing out the window. ]
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Awry. She'll show you "awry." ]
Southwest corner, storage shed.
[ But she'd been making her way back to the window so they may just meet in the middle. Her pace is slow-going, though, even with the adrenaline pumping through her veins and her soldier's stamina (that's all her, too, not Steve's via the Pact). It's just as well she doesn't make it back into the Institute, she probably wouldn't have been able to move as effortlessly as Eggsy to avoid getting sliced to ribbons.
When she spots him clambering out the window, she stops and leans one shoulder heavily against the stone wall of the building, more in relief to see him making it out than pain. (All right, pain too.) ]
Christ, [ she exhales, too soft for the comms to pick up. She reaches up to pull the glasses off her face before he's within range and rests the bridge of her nose against the backs of her knuckles, eyes closing briefly. She doesn't open them until she can hear him approaching. ] We need to go.
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Instead, he falls into step beside her as they turn around to retrieve the target together. ]
You look like shit. [ says the man who looks like he got off easy in a slasher film, thin red lines scattered across his skin and his precious suit littered with openings. ]
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Look in a mirror lately?
[ Not her finest retort, but there's work to be done. He's alive and in one piece, she can fuss over the particulars when they're somewhere safe and secure. There's a strip of fabric hanging haphazardly off his jacket and she literally reaches out to help herself to it โ it's not hard to tear off, the threads give way immediately, and she doesn't even bother apologising before using Kingsman-grade bulletproof suiting fabric to bind up her leg until she can get it attended to.
She tries to put her weight on it, hissing in lieu of the litany of curses behind her teeth, and she shakes her head quickly and braces herself on his shoulder. No good. Damn. ]
Keep going. [ She has no qualms about using him as support, she keeps pace well enough as they head back towards the shed. In the near distance, the alarm is still going. Once it cuts out, once people start investigating, what's left of their clean escape will be dashed. Once they reach the shed, Peggy nods. ] He's in there. Let's hope the Cage's door is feeling especially courteous this afternoon, otherwise we won't make it far without being spotted.
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The sight of the lecturer ahead, passed out on the ground, brings to mind their recent discussion of knockout lipstick. Jesus Christ. Figures. He crouches to check the bloke's pulse, feeling his thigh smart on the way down (and ignoring the pain; no time for an alternative). Hoisting him up ain't so bad โ he must be of a height with Eggsy, otherwise it would be harder. Even so, he grunts as he rises to his feet. One of the elbows of his suit gives out on the way, another tear, with the white of his button-up peaking out from underneath, flecked with red from his various injuries. The lecturer's head lolls against his shoulder. Creepy.
At the back of the shed, he notices a gleam of something.
The doorknob. ]
Guess they're feeling courteous, after all.
no subject
For some reason, she thinks of what a pity it is Mr DeVere isn't here to mend that suit. But she supposes even a man of his expertise might consider it a lost cause. Peggy flicks her gaze over the rest of him, assessing the injuries she can make out, frowning all the while. She never saw the robots he was up against, but she can guess easily enough that they were armed with swords.
Lovely. ]
Oh? [ He draws her attention to the back and she straightens, stepping more fully into the shed and shutting the main door behind her. Peggy half-hops towards the new entrance and pushes the gardening tools out of the way to clear their path. ] First bit of hospitality I've seen all day.
[ And with that, she opens the door and holds out an arm, lips pressed into a grim smile. ]
After you, gentlemen.
no subject
Cheers.
[ His first steps with the limp lecturer are clumsy, but he establishes a rhythm soon enough. The journey through the door and to the drop point within the Gilded Cage is relatively short, too. They don't see any of the other double agents. Thank fuck. Eggsy doesn't feel especially chatty after his long afternoon. Besides, they both need medical attention. Best make this quick.
Before they leave, he hesitates. Eggsy Unwin wouldn't shoot his dog for an organisation worth his trust โ and yet today, he leaves a person in the hands of a relatively unknown quantity. 'Course kidnapping isn't the same as killing. Hopefully, Cree sees fit to provide him and Carter with greater information after this harrowing endeavor. ]
steve rogers | before may 31
Small blessings, given that Peggy and Eggsy kidnapped an ex-shaman from the campus and delivered him to the man running El Nysa's underground. There may still be consequences for that, but they haven't encountered any yet.
Although with Peggy limping her way into her apartment under cover of darkness, that may change. Her left leg can barely take her weight, although the ugly shotgun graze is heavily bandaged by now. She just wants to change out of her work clothes, crawl into bed next to Steve, and fall asleep. Maybe she manages it โ and whatever talk that should be had between them can happen in the morning. She's too bone-tired for it now. ]