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Eggsy fidgeted.

He stood at parade rest in front of Harry’s desk, no Arthur’s desk, and tried his best not to be noticeable.

Ha- Arthur hadn’t looked up from where he was reading through what was theoretically Eggsy’s latest mission report. However, the contents of the latest mission from the newly created agent Guinevere were anything but good.

Eggsy thought he might be fucked when he watched Arthur flip back and re-read some sections.

Eggsy knew he was fucked when Arthur shot him a single glare from under his glasses and picked up a pen and began marking the report like a secondary school essay. The ink was even red, and Eggsy swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched the ink bleed through the paper from the numerous marks Arthur was making. His eyes flicked down to the man’s hands, smoothing across the paper, making notes in the margins, crossing out entire paragraphs, and generally just deleting the entire body of work Eggsy had spent five hours working on drunkenly the previous night.

Arthur set the paper down, took a breath, and looked up at Eggsy. Eggsy snapped up, resuming his “Guinevere” persona and met Arthur’s eyes.

“Would you care to explain the mission? In your own words, of course.”

“I believe my mission report gives all the pertinent details, sir.”

The glare Eggsy received and the lifted eyebrow told him that whatever answer Arthur expected, that was not it.

Eggsy rolled his eyes and said, “Look, bruv, it’s like this. Me’n Percy got sent to Dublin, yeah? And we was doin’ fine, too! ‘Alf the mission was done, so we decided to get a pint and somethin’ to eat, yeah? We duck into this little pub in the middle of the city, and we gets our orders and grab a seat at a booth. We’re ‘alfway done with our fish’n chips when who the fuck walk in, but the fuckin’ mark!”

Eggsy took a deep breath and continued.

“So that’s it, innit? ‘E sees us, we sees ‘im, we all draw down and it turns into a proper fuckin’ fight doesn’ it? So the mark gets ‘is goons in the pub, the other customers are fleein’ right and left, and Percy gets that fuckin’ look in ‘is eye. You know what fuckin’ look I’m on about, yeah? The one that says ‘I’m going to burn this place to the fuckin’ ground.’ And just like that, he dives ‘cross the fuckin’ bar! Starts grabbin’ bottles and dumpin’ ‘em out right on the bartop. I’m behind my brolly, tryin’ my fuckin’ best not to get shot by the eighteen-and-a-half million guys this fucker’s got with ‘im, and I catch Percy’s eye. He gives me this big fuckin’ grin that says ‘shit’s about to go down,’ and lights up the bar.

“So’s I run fer it, make it across the bar without burnin’ my fuckin’ eyebrows off, and me’n Percy are just tucked up behind there. ‘E’s laughin’ his fuckin’ face off, and I says, ‘Perc, what the fuck are we gonna do now?!’ He looks at me, taps the fuckin’ floor, and I notice the cellar door, yeah? So we open it up, dive down, and slam the fuckin’ door behind us, and start lookin’ fer the street exit. I’m prowlin’ in the dark, feelin’ around fer the keg lift, and I hear this tapping, yeah? I look, but I can’t see shite in the dark. So I turn on my phone’s flashlight and there’s fuckin’ Percy, pouring ‘imself a fuckin’ pint out of the kegs like we wasn’ just gettin’ fuckin’ shot at. ‘E’s just leaned up against the soddin’ wall, sippin’ at a warm Guinness, and lookin’ like nothing’s wrong. I finally find the fuckin’ lift, but Perce, ‘e won’ fuckin’ come with me ’til ‘is fuckin’ pint’s gone. So I’m waitin’ on the lift, tappin' my fuckin’ foot, and we both start to ‘ear sirens, yeah? Some good fuckin’ Samaritan ‘as called the local fire boys, and they’re gettin’ on the scene to keep the local from goin’ down in flames.”

At this point, Eggsy relaxed from standing at attention and flopped into the chair opposite Arthur’s. He was given a resigned glare in response from Arthur, but chose to ignore it in favor of continuing.

“So Perce finishes his pint, finally, and sets the glass down. He starts comin’ over to me an’ the lift when there’s this fuckin’ noise like a train’s goin’ right over us. The whole bloody buildin’ is shakin’ at this point, and Perce’n me are clutchin’ each other like little fuckin’ babies thinkin’ the whole place is gonna come down on our ‘eads. The cellar door falls in, yeah? And the water from the fire cannons is just pourin’ in. I press the lift button, but it’s not fuckin’ workin’, because of course it fuckin’ isn’. So Perce starts wadin’ through the water, which is up and over our fuckin’ oxfords at this point, ‘Arry, and grabs the fuckin’ cellar door and uses like a soddin’ shield to block the water.

“I go over and ‘elp him jam it up and back into place, but that still don’t get us out and onto the fuckin’ streets. I’ve got me phone light still on so I start lookin’ fer the fuckin’ switchbox, yeah? So I find it back in the very fuckin’ back, with all the spiderwebs and bloody pub ghosts’n shite, right? Engage the switches, an’ lo and fuckin’ behold, the power comes on. So I splash back to the soddin’ lift but before I can press the button to get the fuck out of the god damn sinkin’ ship, Perce leaps off the fuckin’ thing! Start’s in about some fuckin’ fancy bottle of wine he sees, and in the meantime, the bloody trapdoor busts in again and more water pours in.

"Now we can hear the fuckin’ fire boys upstairs, and they’re shoutin' and lookin' fer people.

“So Percy finally fuckin’ comes back carrying these three bottles of wine like they’re ‘is bleedin’ babies, and gets back on the keg lift. Cracks one open by pullin’ the fucking cork out of it like in some kind of pirate movie, yeah? Starts chuggin' the fuckin’ thing like it’s water. ‘Ands me one of other ones and just sits down on the lift. So I says ‘fuck it’ and start drinkin’ me wine too. Now Perce was at least four pints in already, and I’d ‘ad two with dinner, an’ you me ‘Arry, I’m a fuckin’ lightweight. So we drink our fancy fuckin’ wine, and watch the water come in, and listen to the fuckin’ firemen upstairs and it’s ‘bout the most fucked up thing you ever saw. One of the firemen calls down into the cellar, ‘Oi! MacIntyre! You in ‘ere, mate?!’ and Perce and I look at each other, and I slam my hand on the lift button faster’n I even know. Percy fuckin’ loses it and starts laughin’ his bleedin' arse off, and no, I don’ fuckin’ know why; you’ll ‘ave to ask ‘im the drunken wanker. Just starts shoutin' “MacIntyre!” as we get out onto the streets.

“You know the rest, ‘Arry. I called you, got picked up, flew home, came ‘ere, gave you the last fuckin’ bottle of fancy fuckin’ wine, and that’s it. Wrote up me report, fell asleep with you at ‘ome, ‘ad a lovely breakfast, and came to work. The fuckin’ end.”

Eggsy stopped speaking and looked expectantly at Arthur. Arthur sighed and a full five minutes passed before he responded. Loudly.

“So your explanation is that Percival, one of our finest knights, got drunk on pilfered alcohol, set a pub on fire to escape a mark on what should have been a purely reconnaissance mission, and spent the evening shouting “MacIntyre!” into the streets of Dublin because he could?!”

Eggsy nodded sagely and pointed a finger in the air back towards the door. From outside the door, Percival’s melodious, but hungover, tenor was heard:


Eggsy looked back at Arthur with a pointed, but resigned face and finished his tale.


“So that’s ‘ow we got blue-blind, paralytic drunk as the Old Dun Cow caught fire.”