String Theory

Chapter 8

At the twenty second floor, Peter gets what could be the worst idea of the century, and skids to a halt. He snatches a fistful of Eggsy's shirt. "Stop! Hold on to me!"

Eggsy gags on the collar of his shirt, staggering backwards. "Jesus f— What?"

"Just do it," Peter pants, yanking the sleeve of his coat up to expose his webshooter. "Trust me!"

When Eggsy still doesn't, Peter breathes a curse and hooks an arm around Eggsy's waist, tugging him close, and shoots a web straight up. It sticks to the ceiling, and before Eggsy can pull himself away, Peter hauls both of them over the stairwell's inside railing. Eggsy gives a yelp of terror, clinging to Peter's neck as they plummet freely. The webbing extends with them, and the wind tears at their faces as they drop, drawing unbidden tears from both of their eyes.

The ground level approaches fast, and when they don't slow down, Eggsy shouts a hoarse " fuck!" and buries his face in Peter's shoulder. Peter grips the webbing, and it stretches, slowing their fall in seconds. Their feet touch down gently. Eggsy takes a moment to peel his eyes open, in disbelief that they're both still in one piece, before extracting himself from Peter's grip. He looks a bit green, matching the roiling nausea in his stomach, and he gives Peter a weak glare. "Absolute nuts ," he breathes, but Peter doesn't give him any time to recover. He snatches Eggsy's hand, tugging him out of the stairway and through the lobby.

They walk quickly, trying not to draw attention. Most of the guards are occupied with filing up the elevator in groups and dashing towards the stairs, and the teachers are bustling their children out of the building, guiding them to the few school buses parked nearby. Halfway across the lobby, one of the Orthus employees shouts, "There! That's them," and Eggsy breaks into a sprint, now in the lead and still gripping Peter's hand. A few guards give chase, shouting for them to stop and show their identification.

"Not good," Peter pants. "Not good at all!"

"You're telling me! Fucking go! "

They don't slow down when they break out of the building, but race at full speed across the street towards their parked Subaru. Peter tosses his backpack in the backseat, and Eggsy slams his door, cranking the car as soon as he's in. "Seatbelt," he gasps, mouth dry. Peter's already fastening it.

"Dude," Peter says, concern flashing across his features as Eggsy peels out of the parking spot, tires squealing. "Jesus chr- there's nobody chasing us!" He reaches for his bag, but the momentum pins Peter to his seat. His hand accidentally catches the volume dial, and Motorhead's Ace of Spades pours through the car's speakers at an ear-aching volume. Peter fumbles to grip the door handle, eyes going wide as street lights whizz by them.

"No?" Eggsy replies over the music, giving his side mirror a glance. "Guess again!"

Sure enough, two cop cars have pulled around the corner by now. When they spot the red Subaru, their sirens wail to life, and Peter can see their tires smoke as they accelerate in pursuit. "Oh my god," he whines, resting his head against the seat. Panic wells up in his gut. "Oh my god. What did I say. What did I tell you. I knew this was going to happen–"

Eggsy shifts gears, drops the clutch, and jerks the wheel to the left. The car responds instantly, careening around the corner. They pick up speed on the straightaway, out of sight of the cops. "It's fine," he says sharply. "We're fine. I can get us out of this. It's fine."

It flits through Peter's mind that the real Tony Stark is going to kill him if they wreck. Yeah, he predicted the chase, but that doesn't mean he was prepared for it to be a reality. He doesn't have time to process the rest of it. They're going too fast.