Chapter Text
"So." Eggsy began, "you brought me to hell."
"The underworld, to be more exact. And no, this isn't it, yet. You still have a long way to go before you reach your destination. This is but the entrance." Macy stood, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her dress. "Now we enter Hell." she threw over her shoulder before striding off through the crowd.
"Oi! " Eggsy yelled, struggling to catch up with her , "I thought you said it ain't hell!"
By the time they reached the reception, Eggsy was slightly out of breath, which was strange, given his Kingsman stamina. Stranger still was the sheer amount of time it took to get from one end of the (dingy) foyer to another, and the fact that no one batted an eye when Macy simply cut her way to the front of the line.
(Some grade A Harry Potter shit 'ere alright)
One of receptionists looked up as Macy approached, a frown flickering momentarily over his face before the blank mask of polite professionalism dropped back into place. "Macy," he greeted, "and..." he paused, tilted his head the slightest degree, "Mr. Unwin." There was an awkward pause, during which neither Macy nor the man looked away from each other. Eggsy coughed slightly into his hand and immediately regretted it when the receptionist turned his unnerving gaze upon him instead. For a few moments, it felt as if he were being flayed alive, turned inside out and outside in, every molecule in his body falling apart and somehow coming back together in a sickening, horrifying rush - and he was himself again, absently watching the man hand Macy a key, then he was following her to the elevator
(singular)
and the doors were closing and he could think and breathe and -
(ohmygodwhatthefuckwhattheFUCK)
"Min has that effect on most people. It's an essential part of his job."
Eggsy wants to laugh and cry at the same time, because why on earth would a hotel receptionist need fucking gamma-ray vision holy shit, but he's quickly cottoning on to the fact that things are definitely not what they seemed in this place.
Case in point: the elevator operator standing next to them, operating nothing at all.
There were no buttons, dials, lever - anything that remotely resembled some form of control in the (tiny) box they were standing in, and the operator wasn't even pretending to be busy. Rather, he was staring intensely at Eggsy with his palm out.
Eggsy glanced helplessly at Macy, only to find that she was staring at him as well.
(well fuck )
"Um." He rummaged his pockets for some change, but came up empty. "I don't have any money?"
For a moment, nothing happened, but then suddenly the lights flickered, and the lift ground to a halt.
"Eggsy."
He scrabbled frantically at his clothes, cursing under his breath
(at Macy, at the lift man, at fucking Harry who went and got shot)
and his hands closed over a hard metal object under his shirt.
Hands shaking, he lifted out the Kingsman medal
(the last thing he had of Harry's)
"You want this?"
The man nodded. The lift rattled loudly to punctuate his point.
With a short, jerky motion, Eggsy pulled the medal off the chain around his neck,
("- titanium-carbon alloy, to keep it safe, dear boy -")
rubbed his thumb along its ridges one last time, before dropping it into the waiting palm.
Immediately, the lift began moving down again.
Eggsy slumped down against the wall, defeated.
--
Btw, this is Min (hurhur)
