[ They weren't meant to be paired off for this mission, they weren't even supposed to cross paths. There are times when UNCLE and Kingsman collaborate on certain (potentially apocalyptic) cases so they aren't total strangers; but this was supposed to be a solo affair. However, as is sometimes the case in this life of espionage, the assignment isn't always as neat and tidy as the file it came in — and somehow this weekend went from an exclusive wedding reception at a private resort in Phuket to a high-speed midnight car chase up the Thai coastline with Gaby Teller behind the wheel and Eggsy Unwin riding shotgun.
Literally. He has a shotgun.
This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen. She'd cultivated this contact for months, resurrected her ballet "career" just to secure an invitation to this wedding, all to get close to the father of the groom. (Ringleader of a drug cartel, goods smuggled out of the country in the bodies of tourists who died on holiday and were being repatriated. Bypass customs, bypass the detection dogs. Clever, if it wasn't so grim. Not all those tourists died accidentally.) But the mission wasn't meant to escalate like this, otherwise Waverly wouldn't have sent her in alone. Still, she knew something was up the second she spotted Eggsy — Galahad, she's aware — across the dance floor. They've worked together in the past and usually get on wonderfully, but not tonight.
No, tonight Gaby thinks she might start yelling at him for the mess they've gotten themselves into. A mess that is possibly both their faults. But she's not in the mood to entertain that idea. ]
There's only one bridge to the mainland and it has a checkpoint, [ she snaps at Eggsy, flicking her gaze at the rearview mirror to check on their tail (still there) and back to the dark road in front of them. Somehow, she manages to convey the utmost irritation in her voice while keeping it level. ] And the airport won't be any better, so unless you know another way off this island, I'm driving us in circles and — [ and that's a bullet pinging off her side mirror ] — we're fucked.
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u know
Literally. He has a shotgun.
This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen. She'd cultivated this contact for months, resurrected her ballet "career" just to secure an invitation to this wedding, all to get close to the father of the groom. (Ringleader of a drug cartel, goods smuggled out of the country in the bodies of tourists who died on holiday and were being repatriated. Bypass customs, bypass the detection dogs. Clever, if it wasn't so grim. Not all those tourists died accidentally.) But the mission wasn't meant to escalate like this, otherwise Waverly wouldn't have sent her in alone. Still, she knew something was up the second she spotted Eggsy — Galahad, she's aware — across the dance floor. They've worked together in the past and usually get on wonderfully, but not tonight.
No, tonight Gaby thinks she might start yelling at him for the mess they've gotten themselves into. A mess that is possibly both their faults. But she's not in the mood to entertain that idea. ]
There's only one bridge to the mainland and it has a checkpoint, [ she snaps at Eggsy, flicking her gaze at the rearview mirror to check on their tail (still there) and back to the dark road in front of them. Somehow, she manages to convey the utmost irritation in her voice while keeping it level. ] And the airport won't be any better, so unless you know another way off this island, I'm driving us in circles and — [ and that's a bullet pinging off her side mirror ] — we're fucked.