Kingsman: The Devil's Gamble

Chapter Six

"It's so amazing," I breathlessly said.

"Well, yeah, sugar. I'm lookin' right at you," he said.

I shot a quick glance over to him, trying so hard not to blush. "Not me, silly. I'm talking about this on-field experience. It's—it's amazing! Have you ever been this close to the field?"

He shook his head back and forth. "Mm mmm. Not this close, sugar."

"Well, it's a new experience for both of us," I said.

After a while, Whiskey and I headed up to our suite so we could get a great view of the game below. Once I opened the door, I was immediately in awe with what I saw. It was so huge and fancy, unlike any rooms I was used to. It was giving me "Metropolitan" vibes—fancy, expensive, something the rich people would relax in on a regular basis.

"Damn!" I exclaimed. "You were able to afford all this?"

Whiskey shrugged. "Remember, sugar. I pulled a couple strings with your uncle. He helped me snag all the amenities we get today."

"It helps to know people, doesn't it?" I shrugged.

"It sure does," he responded.

And Whiskey and I continued on, cheering on the Tennessee Titans like obnoxious die-hard fans. Of course, I was a die-hard fan. Whiskey was not. He was just happy to see me so happy. As long as I was happy, he was happy.

But my joyful, giddy mood soon turned into a sour one.

Whilst Whiskey and I were continuing to cheer on the Titans, I noticed an oddly eerie sight. An eerie sight that sent chills down my spine. In the section below the suite Whiskey and I were in, a man had stood up and was slowly climbing the stairs. But he stopped after only a few steps and just stared at Whiskey and I's suite. It was like he was immediately frozen right there. I was very creeped out by his presence there.

"Whiskey, Whiskey!" I said, tapping his shoulder incessantly.

He glanced over. "What, sugar?"

I pointed to the strange man down below. The man who now looked oddly familiar. He looked like the same man who chased Whiskey and I out of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. And Whiskey must've agreed with me too.

"He looks familiar," he said. "Too familiar."

"I know, right? It's so familiar that it's creepy," I answered back.

Once this strange man was reaching into his back pocket, I knew that he was pulling out his phone. It would be an extremely dumb move to pull out a gun in the middle of a stadium, with the added chance that you'd be on live television. This guy, however...I could tell he wasn't stupid enough to do that.

"What are you doing?" Whiskey asked, as I fondled my phone.

"Figuring out what the hell this guy's saying to God knows who," I answered, finally managing to ping his cell phone and hack into it. I had to figure out what this guy was talking about.

"What's he saying?" Whiskey questioned eagerly.

I made Whiskey go quiet, as I carefully listened in on what this guy was saying. He was speaking in a very thick Polish accent, so it was very hard to try and pick up on his words. I only mildly understood what he was saying just by his facial expressions and his bodily gestures.

And I could tell that it was not looking good for me and Whiskey.

"Whiskey, we gotta get the hell out of here!" I said sternly.