”I know the next storyline," Egerton teases about Tatum having a bigger role should they return for another sequel. "But what the fuck can I say? Not much," the actor jokes. (source)
The hype for Kingsman 3 begins! Also, Matthew Vaughn told Elton John that he’s already writing the script for the third movie. I’m down for Elton John being a Kingsman and also more Channing Tatum in the next movie. I can’t wait for even more fix-it fics after Kingsman 3.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOONIE! I’ve written notes on the AO3 upload of this, so I won’t repeat them here, but happy birthday and I hope you have the best day!!!! ♥
Read on AO3 here (recommended)
The lives of those who work in the police force aren't particularly stimulating.
Regular patrols. Missing person cases without any deeper motives. The occasional murder.
Where other cities are alive and bustling at night, this city is dead.
It had always been--
--until the day they arrived.
Kuroko Tetsuya: a twenty-four year old with light, celeste-hued locks and dark cobalt-eyes, working as one of the top detectives in the police force. He is twenty-one when he finally completes his courses at the Metropolitan Police Academy in Tokyo. He is twenty-two and a half when he becomes world-renowned as the "phantom detective".
It is one year later when he gets sent to a different location in Japan, a city long abandoned and inhabited by those who claw their way through blood and grime, doing everything they can if only with the hopes of escaping someday. It is a sea of illicit drugs, crime and black lies that he swims through.
He is not looking to save these people, as much as he had argued with his superiors. This place is far too corrupted and his hands are far too clean, they had drilled into his head before giving him the job. You're the only one who can do it, they had said. The Phantom is a man unknown by both name and appearance.
Scuffed, leather soles tracking up dirt, Tetsuya tilts his rusty hat up to get a better view of the city before him.
All he sees is blight.
There are many rumours -- too many -- that surround this city. A disease that zombifies those contaminated has been spread to all its citizens. A nuclear bomb fell upon this area during the world war, and it has been forgotten since. People who visit are cornered and drawn into the endless network of human trafficking.
There are many rumours that surround this city.
But rumours make leads, and leads hold cause for investigation.
Tetsuya is twenty-two when he first hears of them. Amidst making a name for himself as he flawlessly concludes yet another case, his peers invite him out for drinks at the nearby bar.
He agrees.
He goes with Aomine Daiki, a high-ranked police officer, and Kagami Taiga, an intimidating yet friendly fireman. Daiki is tanned, with hair and eyes both an exotic, midnight-blue. He is often accused of being a foreigner. Taiga, on the other hand, has two-toned crimson locks -- bright towards his crown, blacker at the tips -- and eyes of a similar, dark shade. He is never accused of being a foreigner, despite being practically half-American, much to Daiki’s chagrin. They are both Tetsuya’s best friends. They had met in university and clicked straight away, much to the surprise of many others. They frequent the bar owned by Taiga's brother figure, Himuro Tatsuya, and are often treated drinks as a "thanks" for always helping out.
There are many fights in the bar, after all.
Nobody ever mentions Tatsuya's standing in the underworld. The less knowledge they have when they assist him, the better.
He is a mysterious man with eyes as black as his hair -- albeit, nobody has ever seen his left eye. It is permanently obscured by his tresses. The beauty mark beneath his right eye is also a common topic for conversation.
Tatsuya's best worker is a man named Nijimura Shuuzou, who is a plain, yet attractive man with dark hair and eyes -- though, rather than being the best at bartending, he's really only there to terrorise punks and thugs in the vicinity who think they can extort his boss whilst he waits on tables. He also makes the occasional cocktail.
(Tatsuya's high salary and fondness for Shuuzou also definitely do not stem from the fact that they are, none-too-furtively, hooking up. They try to hide it, but Shuuzou rushing to work with hickeys littered across his collarbone in a shirt that Tatsuya was clearly wearing the week before does not make for much of a secret, unfortunately -- much to their coworkers' and friends' amusement.)
Alongside Shuuzou work another odd pair -- Midorima Shintarou, who is as good at smiling as he is socialising -- he's atrocious at both, by the way -- and Takao Kazunari, the only person who can deal with him for extended periods of time. Kazunari also has onyx-coloured hair and eyes -- but Shintarou, for some reason, has natural forest-green hair and eyes of a near identical hue.
(Tetsuya supposes he cannot point out that fact without sounding hypocritical.)
They are, also, going out with each other. Tetsuya is quite sure that it extends beyond physical relations -- if the blush on Shintarou's face is any telling factor, that is, from what he can see at the moment.
Exhaling, Tetsuya sips on his cocktail. He is the sole person who actually drinks the concoction labelled "EXTREMELY MYSTERIOUS SWEET JUICE!!!! ♥", to everyone's horror, on a regular basis. It is a running bet on how long it'll take for him to contract diabetes.
"What's up, Kuroko? Why the long face?"
"That's his regular face," Daiki points out, slinging an arm around the aforementioned detective. Taiga rolls his eyes.
"He was sighing!"
"I was breathing," Tetsuya corrects, swirling his glass around absentmindedly. He likes watching the bright colours mix.
"Who breathes that loudly?"
"I was exhaling."
"Well I, for one, am glad that Kurokocchi's breathing!" Kise Ryouta calls out as he takes a seat next to Tetsuya by the bar, winning smile plastered onto his chiseled features. He works as a full-time model -- it isn't a surprise, with his silky, bright-golden tresses and piercing, aureolin eyes.
"Shut up, Kise, nobody asked."
"So rude, Aominecchi!"
Ryouta whines, turning his gaze on Daiki like a hopeful puppy. When he doesn't react, the blonde wilts sadly.
"It's okay, Kise-kun," Tetsuya says softly, "Aomine-kun is just grouchy; he got yelled at by the higher-ups today."
"Dammit, Tetsu--"
"Also," he adds as an afterthought, eyes sparkling with mischief, "you aren't Kagami-kun, so your teary-eyed attack won't work on him."
Daiki promptly chokes on his beer.
"W-wait, what-- how did you--" Taiga splutters.
"Everyone already knows you’re together."
"Hah?!"
"More importantly, how long have you been going out for?" Kazunari pipes up eagerly. Taiga is confused, but answers regardless.
"Uh... We started a little while before I went to America for the incident with my old man. Remember that?"
"Ah, rather than remembering, it was more like we weren't allowed to forget," Ryouta grins, elbows on the counter. "Aominecchi was complaining for weeks right after you left, after all."
"S-shut up!"
He smirks cheekily, but his mirth fades once Tetsuya turns in his direction. Puffing up his cheeks a little, the model yields.
Shuuzou sighs, muttering a small "fuck".
"This is why you don't add a detective into the mix," Shintarou shakes his head, pushing his glasses up haughtily. Kazunari nudges him with too much force, making him spill some alcohol onto the floor.
"You still went with it though, Shin-chan!" he cackles.
"Shut up, Takao."
"The hell are you guys going on about?" Daiki grumbles, downing another glass. Taiga's jaw drops as every member of the group -- other than himself, Daiki and Tetsuya -- subsequently bring out two thousand-yen bills from their wallets. They pile up in front of Tetsuya, who has the decency to keep his face expressionless in lieu of looking smug.
"You -- you bet on us?!"
"Shitty bastards," Daiki says without bite.
"Damn, can't believe Tatsuya lost," Shuuzou voices, disgruntled, "I thought this time he'd be able to win."
"I'm no match for him, Shuu," Tatsuya chuckles, "despite watching the lovebirds every odd day, I still lost. How did you figure out the date, Kuroko?"
"I figured Aomine-kun would have to get his hands on Kagami-kun before he left for America," Tetsuya answers without remorse, "because Aomine-kun was starved for action for too long."
"Oi-- Tetsu!"
"K-Kuroko!" Taiga quite literally squeaks, mortified. Tetsuya tilts his head cutely, blinking his large, deep-azure eyes. It is an instant kill for Ryouta, who seems close to headdesking and drowning in his own nosebleed -- but alas, Tetsuya's two colleagues are much too accustomed to his sly ruses. He shrugs, and continues to tease them without mercy.
After the bar is cleared out and they are the only remaining patrons, Tetsuya speaks. The door is locked, the "CLOSED FOR BUSINESS" sign swaying softly in the wind.
"I heard my superiors at work today discuss a particular place in Japan," he begins, gaze resting on Tatsuya, whose lips quirk up subtly. The bar owner continues wiping down the counter without any further notion to signify that he is following the conversation.
"As the rumours there go, there are two criminals that have been set loose in separate parts of town. Both have been deemed serial killers, and nobody knows where they came from."
Lacing his fingers together, Tetsuya leans forward a little. His eyes narrow imperceptibly at Tatsuya's form.
It is their usual game.
"They say one is like the mist, and the other a demon."
"The ashen-haired invisible man -- some say he isn't real," Tatsuya hums, wrenching out the cloth between his hands, "but he definitely exists. Like the mist, he moves, disappearing without any evidence. Gone. His victims vanish with his own person."
"But there is always a trace. Run your hands through a cloud of mist, and you'll know it was there. You'll feel it on your fingertips."
"Yes," Tatsuya agrees, "but akin to every other being, you require an incentive."
Tetsuya stares at him, eyes blank. The latter's smile widens.
"The mist is a spirit of vengeance," he murmurs softly, "if your anguish rings out loudly enough, he will come -- and he will aid you. But nothing comes without a price. For people who dip their hands into poison, what do you think happens?"
'Ah,' Tetsuya thought. Watching the comprehension flit through his friend's eyes, Tatsuya chuckles.
"What about the demon?"
"The red demon," he says. "The Reaper. The devil. Diablo... The death god."
He lists them off like they are synonymous to one another, but Tetsuya knows better. His eyes widen.
"...No."
"Yes," Tatsuya inclines his head a single time, "shall we chat a little while longer?"
"No, this is enough," Tetsuya answers lowly, "thank you very much, Himuro-kun."
"It's no problem," the bar owner replies cheerfully, "I'm always indebted to you. Now, Shuu, Midorima-kun, Takao-kun, shall we begin cleaning up?"
"Already on it," Shuuzou hollers, spraying antiseptic on the tables.
"Hell yeah! Let's go, Shin-chan!" Kazunari grins. Before leaving the bar, however, he pauses and leans over to whisper conspiratorially into Tetsuya's ear.
"Don't get yourself killed, alright, Tetsu-chan? We'd all be horribly lonely without you."
"I'll try my best," Tetsuya offers him a rare smile, "thank you, uhm... Kazunari-kun."
With that, Tetsuya leaves; Taiga, Ryouta and Daiki in tow. Shuuzou stands by the unlocked door as they go, and they listen to the door's closing jingle before resuming their post-work clean-up.
"Ah~ Tetsu-chan is so cute. He's still embarrassed to use my first name," Kazunari says dreamily, sighing like a lovesick, high school girl. Shintarou tells him so, and Kazunari simply roars with laughter in response.
"Ahahaha! Shin-chan, don't worry, don't worry! You know you're the only one for me~"
"Shut up, Takao."
Walking outside, Daiki abruptly elbows Taiga in the ribs, earning a grunt from said male. Taiga shoots him a withering look.
"What?" he asks gruffly.
"This is where we split," Daiki points out.
"Eh, isn't this too early? Well, whatever."
"See you, Tetsu, Kise," Daiki waves lazily, seizing Taiga by the hand. Turning a bright red, the redhead stutters out a short farewell to Ryouta and Tetsuya before allowing himself to be tugged away.
Once they're alone, Ryouta sighs. "I can't tell if Aominecchi did that on purpose, or..."
"Kise-kun."
"I know." he looks frustrated with himself. "You don't have to do this, Kurokocchi."
"I know," Tetsuya echoes, "but I want to."
"Why?"
"Because they're harming people."
"What if they're harming people who deserve it?" Ryouta argues, knowing it to be nothing but futile. Tetsuya shakes his head, a small smile tugging up his lips.
"Kise-kun, nobody deserves to be killed. It only makes for a vicious cycle."
"...You don't even know if you'll be put on the case," he refutes weakly. Tetsuya only stares up at him with determination blazing in his gaze, and Ryouta lets his shoulders drop.
"...Please, don't throw yourself into danger as recklessly as you always do. Akashicchi... Akashicchi isn't somebody who lets people get away with defying him."
"I know," Tetsuya affirms softly. Ryouta shakes his head, and for the briefest of moments, Tetsuya can see it again.
He can see a boy, just old enough to be fresh out of high school, with blonde locks covered in filth and soot.
He can see his eyes, narrowed, dull and golden with a lackluster shine, practically unrecognisable to what they are now.
He can almost smell the blood covering the boy's hands, blood that isn't his own, whose blood is it--
He can remember it vividly -- almost too much so.
There is a boy, painfully young, backed into an alleyway. With his brows drawn together and teeth gritted, he growls like a cornered animal. He is bruised and bloody. Tetsuya speaks softly to him, holding his palms up in a placating manner.
It takes a long, long time...
...But it is nothing less than "worth it" as tears well up in the boy's eyes when Tetsuya finally holds his hand out to him.
There isn't a single day Tetsuya regrets his choices for a second: and he never will, he thinks, as the boy sobs, throwing his gun down to launch himself into Tetsuya's arms.
For the first time, the boy sees the world in colour.
It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
The memories are much too fresh in their minds.
(He'll never be able to escape from the hands that curl around his wrists, from the nails that maul down his arms, his legs, his back. He'll never be able to escape all the lives he's stolen. But even so, he continues trying to mend what he's done. He continues trying to find a reason for himself, trying to live for something that isn't his father's bidding. Tetsuya gave him a chance, and he took it.)
Ryouta clenches his fists as he glowers down at the concrete.
"You don't," he says with so much emotion that Tetsuya can't do anything but flinch, "you don't, Kurokocchi. These are two assassins you're up against. I was different."
"You were," Tetsuya agrees quietly, "but I don't plan on trying to save them, either."
"You're going to get yourself killed."
"Perhaps... But more people will be killed if I don't try."
"...What a Kurokocchi-esque answer," Ryouta laughs bitterly.
He looks up, finally, and Tetsuya feels a chill run down his spine.
Those eyes--
It's the same expression Tetsuya has seen on him countless times. There is nothing but ice and pure, pure malice in his gaze.
"I'll tell you everything I know about Akashicchi. But, if either of them lay a single hand on you... I will find them myself."
Ryouta's bloodlust is suffocating--
--and Tetsuya silently thinks to himself that, rather than being afraid of the two assassins...
...It is much more viable to be afraid of the man standing before him.
After all, he is the heir to the infamous King of the Underworld.
At twenty-three and a half, Tetsuya finally gets his hands on the very case that he has chased after for over a year. Scuffed, leather soles tracking up dirt, he tilts his rusty hat up to get a better view of the city before him through his dyed, black locks.
All he sees is blight--
--and blight can be purified.
But he isn't here to do that just yet. If he does not get a proper, tangible lead on either the Mist nor the Demon -- as everyone had begun calling them -- within a month, he will likely find himself mixed into some of the many, precarious situations that the citizens of this city are tangled in. Tetsuya knows this better than anyone.
So, he stays alert.
He blends in with his surroundings, slipping in through crowds, through abandoned buildings, through areas that reek of nothing but blood and sex. He turns a blind eye several times to illegal trades, and quietly exhales, repeating "soon" over and over in his head like a mantra.
Perhaps it is the only thing that helps to keep him from falling into the atmosphere of sheer depravity and impurity.
Perhaps it is the only thing that helps to keep him from noticing the eyes that follow his back wherever he goes.
When he turns around, senses heightened, all he sees is a blur.
And then, black.
His throat constricts, and all he can taste is black.
...
...Black.
"Nn..."
Blinking his eyes open blearily, Tetsuya sits up.
"..."
He jolts awake faster than he ever has throughout his entire twenty-three years of living, and jumps to his feet. He shoves his hands into his pockets.
Gone.
His phone is gone, and so are his capsules of water and liquid vitamins. His wallet and passport are in the safehouse on the outskirts of town, beneath two layers of floorboards in a locked safe, along with emergency supplies and a back-up phone -- but there's no way he's going to rush for them now.
'Is it still the first day? How much time has lapsed since I arrived?'
Tetsuya rubs his dry throat. His head is still ringing, and his senses are all dulled, but he can think.
He has to think.
'Who knocked me out?'
He was unable to catch a single glimpse of his attacker. Had it been a common thug? Or--
Hands reaching deeper inside his pockets, Tetsuya can feel the packets of drugs that the police force supplied him with prior to arriving. He had been ordered to hang onto them at all times, for both blending in and potentially getting him out of risky situations if necessary.
For those to have not been taken... Tetsuya swallows.
He isn't tied up. He's been thrown into a warehouse of sorts, but it is empty. There isn't a single crate in the area -- just dust and insects, along with a large, ceiling light that flickers on and off, despite being daytime still; if the midday sun outside is any indication. The metal doors are unhinged, and he can see the crummy, sandy environment outside. Unlike the rundown and dilapidated, almost cyberpunk-like city from before, it seems as if he's in the middle of a desert.
There isn't a single clue...
...Or so it appears. Tetsuya does not know where he is, but he begins to search.
The place is empty, but there are marks. There always are -- and it is his job to find them.
He scours the floor first. Whoever apprehended him has erased all evidence that could potentially lead to them -- stray hairs, lint... Without a full team working to gather the possible traces of DNA left behind, there is no way Tetsuya will get anywhere by staring at the ground.
So he continues. He presses his gloved fingers onto the smooth, cold floor. If he can't test for fingerprints, then it won't matter if he smudges over places his attacker could have touched.
'I won't leave a single speck of this area uninvestigated,' Tetsuya thinks as he glances off to the side.
...
...?
There's something there.
It's barely visible, but it is undeniably there. Eyes narrowing, Tetsuya inches towards it slowly.
There is a very, very subtle shift in the ground. A trap sensor, a bomb trigger--
--it could be anything.
But Tetsuya did not get his fame from being a coward, and he isn't about to start now. Sucking in a breath and then exhaling, he pushes down gently.
He hears a click--
--and then, the irregular expanse of concrete dips downwards ever-so-slightly, before retracting.
A hidden trapdoor.
Inside it is a small compartment--
--but before it even opens, Tetsuya already knows what is inside.
He had realised the very moment that the concrete moved--
--after all, it is nearly impossible to hide the scent of a rotting corpse...
