Chapter 347: Hello, I am Gin
Kentucky Union Distillery, a large distillery primarily producing whiskey. Their whiskey consistently ranks among the top three in sales across the Americas, second only to Jack Daniel's and Maker's Mark.
Union Distillery is not only the largest distillery in the area, but also a famous tourist attraction due to its beautiful scenery. Ron and his two companions sneaked in as tourists with a tour group.
"Almost heaven, West Virginia Blue Ridge Mountain, Shenandoah River Life is old there, Older than the trees ..."
However, if it weren't for Merlin constantly singing beside them, the scenery here would probably be even more enjoyable. Ron looked at Merlin helplessly: "Look, even if you want to sing, can you change the song? You've been singing this thing the whole way."
"Sorry, this is my first time in America. Every time I think about the scenery of America, the melody of this song keeps playing in my head. Now that I'm in the real America, I couldn't help but express my feelings," Merlin said somewhat embarrassedly.
"Please," Ron rolled his eyes, "you're singing about Virginia, but we're in Kentucky right now."
Merlin awkwardly scratched his smooth head. "Right, Kentucky. What song should we sing in Kentucky?"
To be honest, Ron was stumped by the question. He couldn't think of a Kentucky song off the top of his head, but judging from Merlin's hairstyle, the most suitable one would probably be some bald joke. But Ron was sure he wouldn't appreciate it, so he changed the subject to food: "In Kentucky, we don't sing. We only eat Original Recipe Chicken and popcorn chicken. Want a piece?"
"Come here! Look what I found!" Eggsy suddenly shouted from behind. Ron looked in the direction of the voice and saw him standing at the entrance of the whiskey warehouse, excitedly beckoning them over.
"If your answer is that you found where they've hidden their high-aged whiskey, I'll smash your head in, kid."
Ron habitually held a hint of prejudice against this pair. He preferred Merlin, who seemed more composed and had a technical background, perhaps because he and Toretto shared the same hairstyle. He wasn't much kinder to Eggsy.
"No, there's a biometric scanner here," Eggsy excitedly held his watch close to the scanner, while Merlin manipulated the tablet to begin cracking the scanner's program. "A few barrels of whiskey and you need this thing to watch them? It's overkill."
"Then you have no idea how much Americans love alcohol. Back in my hometown of Texas, some people even insure their cellars…"
Ron was referring to none other than his father, George Sr. Since becoming a college football coach and making money, George Sr. had lost interest in cheap Lone Star beer and switched to whiskey. His former favorite, Lone Star, was now like water to him.
Of course, for health reasons, Mary would limit his daily intake.
"Click." The lock opened under Merlin's control, revealing a cellar storing high-aged whiskey. The three of them had barely entered when the door automatically closed behind them.
"This looks like an ordinary cellar. Did you find anything?"
"Quite a few bottles, but unfortunately not Scotch whisky." Eggsy replied casually, stretching his hand forward and slowly walking. The watch he wore was a special spy gadget, connected to the tablet on Merlin's wrist, and functioned as radar. Ron looked on with envy.
Ron silently resolved that once this collaborative mission was complete, he would make sure Howard and the others developed a similar system for him.
"Wait!" Merlin suddenly called out to Eggsy, stopping him in his tracks. "The radar shows a massive structure directly below us. If I'm not mistaken, its entrance should be here."
Merlin grabbed the axe from beside the barrel and slammed it down heavily.
"Sizzle..." A large amount of liquor gushed out from the opening Merlin had made.
"Damn it, what are you doing? That's such a waste!" Ron quickly cupped his hands and caught some, pouring it into his mouth. "It tastes amazing! Hey cowboy over there, could you get me a cup?"
"What?!" The two ace agents then noticed a cowboy emerging from the shadows.
"My mama told me when I was little that we Southerners taught the British their manners. Looks like y'all forgot them," the cowboy, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and carrying a shotgun, swaggered up to them. "Don't you know you knock before you come in?"
"Excuse me, please don't confuse me with these two Englishmen. I just saw two sneaky guys trying to break into the wine cellar and followed them in. We're on the same side, buddy," Ron politely extended his hand to the cowboy. "Hello, my name is Gin. What's your code name?"
But instead of lowering his guard, the cowboy slapped Ron's hand away, racked the slide on his shotgun, and warily pointed it at him:
"Impossible! Gin is currently on a mission in Japan with Vodka! You absolutely can't be Gin! Who are you?! How did you know about us?"
Now it was Ron's turn to be dumbfounded. He had only been joking; he hadn't expected there to actually be a Gin among the Statesman agents.
No way? So the top agents actually use liquor code names? That's hilarious! Ron was momentarily speechless, trying to process this ridiculous spy naming convention. Wait, what did he just say? Gin and Vodka on a mission in Japan? This organization really committed to the whole alcohol theme.
"Relax, cowboy, my intel came from these two Englishmen," Ron said. Though the cowboy's shotgun posed little threat to him, he still readily threw his teammates under the bus: "These two British gentlemen and I are looking for an organization called Statesman. They said you guys are connected. Ring any bells?"
"The Kingsman Tailor Shop in London, you might have heard of it," Merlin quickly replied.
"Ha, Kingsman Tailor Shop. I bet you got your fancy suits from there, right? Look good on you." The cowboy's gaze sharpened:
"So you want to tell me it's no big deal, just a tailor hacking into our security system? Right? And with a tiny watch at that!"
(End of Chapter)
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