In the saloon Y/n, Eggsy, and Merlin sit on one side of the booth with Whiskey and Harry (now back in a crisp suit) across from them. "Now that we've finished the debrief, Harry, here's a couple welcome back gifts." Eggsy grins as he shows of a watch. "First up, a brand-new Kingsman watch." Harry smiles as Eggsy hands it over. "Advanced software, it can hack into anything with a microchip. It is the bollocks."

"Merlin also has something for you, Dad." Y/n nods towards Merlin who produces an eyeglass case and hands it to Harry. Harry opens the case to find a pair of glasses that were half shades.

"Ah." He hums happily. He sets the case down to remove his eyepatch, revealing his damaged and scarred eye. While Eggsy has trouble looking at it, Y/n is less fazed, having gotten used to seeing some nasty looking injuries. He puts on the glasses, seeming satisfied with how they fit. "Thank you, Merlin, Eggsy." The men nod in acknowledgement. "How do I look?"

"Fantastic." Y/n says with a smile while Eggsy gestures his agreement.

"You look-" Merlin began to form a compliment, only to be rudely interrupted by a fellow bar patron.

"Like some faggot lookin' for an eye fuckin'." The man moved to stand over their table. "Now, why don't you get out of our bar before I take out your other one?"

"Now, is that any way to welcome a visitor from out of town, moonshine?" Whiskey spoke.

"Okay." The man smiled sarcastically and lowered himself to look at Harry. "Suck my southern dick, bitch."

Harry lightly frowns. "Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary."

"Dad-"

"It's alright, darling." Harry grabbed his umbrella and stood up from the table. "Good day, sir." He stepped around the man and made his way towards the door.

The man turned to look at the other four. "Well? What are you ladies waitin' for?" His eyes settle on Y/n and he smirks. "Unless you wanna take a ride on a real man, darlin',"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, mate." Eggsy warned.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Harry had stopped at the doors and reached for the locks above them. "Manners." One lock. "Maketh." Two lock. "Man." He bolts the door. The man and his friends had turned to Harry. "Do you know what that means? Then let me teach you a lesson." He hooked his umbrella handle around a nearby near-empty pint and flung it back, but instead of hitting the man, it sailed right by him. Whiskey had caught it, giving the other three a questioning look. The Kingsmen glanced at each other before looking to Harry once again who had now taken a few steps towards the men. "Are we going to stand around here all day? Or are we going to-" He's cut off by a left hook that left him stumbling into the bar.

Y/n sits up in slight alarm as the men whoop while one grabs Harry and tosses him back. Harry catches himself by hitting one man away with his umbrella, and smacking two more in the face with it. The fourth man had caught Harry's umbrella and pushed him into the bar with it. The umbrella opens and the man uses the display inside to punch Harry in the face a couple times. Before he can land a third, Whiskey throws a lasso around Harry and pulls him to safety. Y/n quickly jumps to her father's aid, helping him into the booth as Whiskey gathers his lasso again.

"Now, that is not what I call a Kentucky welcome." Whiskey says to the men. "Manners maketh man. Let me translate that for you." Using his great skill with the lasso Whiskey begins to teach the men a lesson, even using it to catch a knife and stab a guy with it.

"Are you alright, Dad?" Y/n asked.

"I'm not sure. What's wrong with me, Merlin? I thought you fixed me?"

"Well, we rebuilt your neural pathways. But it'll take time to get your coordination back."

"And the phantom butterflies?"

"You will experience episodes, lapses of clarity. You'll be back to normal soon."

The four look back when they heard a window shatter, finding that Whiskey was now done with manners class. "Whoo." He exclaims as he adjusts his hat. "I feel like a tornado in a trailer park."

The TV above the bar that had been playing baseball suddenly cut out, a new image replacing it soon after of something called Poppy's pharmaceuticals. "Golden Circle proudly presents." A jingle played before a smiling woman with reddish hair appeared.

"Mr. President, my name is Poppy Adams. I believe the UN has no teeth. So I've selected you, as leader of the free world, to reveive this communication. And I invite you to begin negotiations on the largest scale hostage situation in history. A few weeks ago, an engineered virus was released contained in all varieties of my product. Cannabis, cocaine, heroin, opium, ecstacy, and crystal meth. Some of you are already infected. And this is what you can expect in the coming days." Poppy moves to the first of a row of large cubed rooms with frosted over glass. "After a brief incubation period, victims present with stage one symptoms." She snaps her fingers and the glass clears, a man in a black jumpsuit stands there with the same blue markings that Tequila had. "A blue rash. Next..." She moves to the second window. "Second stage symptoms appear. Mania..." She snaps again, and another man is revealed in the same jumpsuit, happily swaying on his feet and waving his arms around in some kind of strange dance. "As the virus enters the brain. Very distressing to the victim and those around them." The five agents stood in front of the TV, glancing at each other at the increasingly disturbing information. "Stage three..." A third man is revealed, eyes wide and mouth slack as he stands stiff as a board. "Paralysis. Muscles enter a state of catastrophic seizure. And once the muscles of the thorax become affected, breathing becomes impossible leading to a very nasty death within 12 hours." The man's eyes burst and blood pours from his nose like a faucet. "But I have good news to the millions already affected. It doesn't have to be this way. I have an antidote." She holds up a small vial of yellow liquid.

The fourth window is cleared and shows the missing Elton John in the third stage of paralysis. A man in all white scrubs steps away from the door he was standing in front of, producing a vial of his own and carefully tips the contents into Elton's mouth. Within moments the rash fades and Elton is able to move once again. His eyes roam around for a moment before settling on Poppy's back. "What have you done to me, you fucking bitch?" Poppy sniffs at his offensive language as he sits on the bed in the room, recovering from the ordeal he just went through.

"100% effective, and ready to ship out worldwide at a moment's notice." Poppy continues while Elton yells at the other man to get out of the room. "You have my word. I will do this, if the following conditions are met. First, you agree to end the war on drugs, once and for all. All classes of substance are legalized, paving the way to a new marketplace in which sales are regulated and taxed as per alcohol. And second, my colleagues and I recieve full legal immunity. Meet my terms and I look forward to helping you keep our beloved country great, boosting our ailing economy, and easing spending on law enforcement. Or continue this blinkered, outmoded, and, frankly, disastrous excercise in prohibition, and live with blood on your hands. Save lives. Legalize."

...

Mass panic quickly spread, hospitals being flooded with people who had been affected with the virus. As victims began to go into the second stage of mania, people started calling it the dancing virus. Tequila was soon afflicted with mania, and Ginger was quick to order him be put into a cryo unit until he could be given a cure. While the president was still unresponsive to the public, the Statesman agents had planted a listening device on a bottle of their booze that the big man had in his office so they could monitor his talks. It was quickly revealed that he was not going to do anything about the situation, only pretending to agree to Poppy's demands to prevent global panic while letting the 'junkie scum go down in flames'. He ordered that large buildings and stadiums be commandeered to round up the affected while celebrating his supposed win on the war on drugs.

"Whether they broke the law or not, those victims are human beings." Champ declared, extremely disgruntled at the president's declarations. "Tequila. He's a great guy. And a great agent. Right now, he's lying in deep freeze waitin' on our help."

"We can't make this personal, sir." Whiskey advised.

"Personal? Agent, we can't stand by and let folks like him die. These people, we're their only hope. Now, we have to find that antidote."

"Poppy's stockpiles, well, they could be anywhere."

"She must have some on hand." Harry says. "Locate Poppy, and obtain a sample for analysis. Maybe it can be replicated."

"Sorry to cut in, guys." Ginger calls over the video feed. "But Charlie is on the phone with his girlfriend. Looping you in now."

They hear Clara sigh before she speaks. "Don't worry, I'm on a payphone covered in a fucking blue rash. Why didn't you tell me? All you said was, 'Don't take any drugs.' It was a music festival for fuck's sake."

"Fuck. Shit. Shit!" Charlie curses. "Okay. Listen. You need to get to the lab in Italy. Do you remember where we went skiing?"

"Yes. Yes, I remember."

"Yeah. Meet me there and I'll give you the antidote."

Clara sighs in relief this time. "Okay." She hangs up then.

"All right. Jet's ready. Whiskey, Percival, Galahad, get to Italy." Champ orders. The three British agents stand, both Harry and Eggsy glancing at each other.

"You two need to fix this code name thing." Whiskey says. "And with all due respect, sir. I don't think Galahad senior is ready to return to fieldwork."

"I did actually mean..." Champ awkwardly gestures to Eggsy.

"Of course." Harry nods and seats himself again.

"And with all disrespect..." Eggsy sits down. "I'm not going anywhere without him."

"Eggsy, maybe he's right. Merlin said it would take a while for him to get back to 100% again."

"I believe he's perfectly fine, babe. We need him. Brains," he gestures to Harry, "skills," then himself and Y/n, "skipping rope?" He looks to Whiskey.

Champ chuckles at Whiskey's expense. "It's a lasso."

"Whatever. Come on." Eggsy gets up from the table.

"Go on. Vamoose." Champ gestures for them to get while still chuckling.

"Yes, sir." Whiskey answers. The four agents leave together to prepare for their mission.