Hi! This is my second Kingsman fic. If you're reading from Gone & Found, welcome back! If you haven't read that story, this is the part where I shamelessly tell you to go read it (and it's a finished story, no waiting for updates!).

Thank you for reading, and please review!

Hello, Goodbye

Nine months later, after the end of her world...

"Eyes on target," he said softly before he took a sip of his martini and walked the edge of the room. His eyes were locked on the elderly dark skinned woman who was currently chatting with someone whose back towards him.

It was a pleasing back, however. Her jet black hair was in a long braid hanging down bare skin that her dress showed, the low cut of the fabric ending just above a well shaped-

"Mind out of the gutter, Galahad, we're on a job, mind you."

He rolled his eyes behind his glasses, knowing Roxy was tapped into his video feed.

So sue him; but he knew a great body when he saw it. Curvier than his usual taste, with an hourglass figure that didn't have such a thin middle.

"Hey, can't I enjoy the… bigger things in life?"

"Oh come on! One tryst with a princess and suddenly you're Casanova? That chauvinistic comment in itself tells me she's not your type. Eyes off her ass, find out who she is and why she's been talking to our target for the past half hour."

He sighed, shaking his head at Roxy's antics as he moved further into the room to come around and face the woman in question.

He blinked, and froze.

He wasn't expecting… that.

Her eyes were a bright blue, expressive yet in a fake way as she continued to talk to the target with her hands moving animatedly, surprisingly keeping the drink in her hand steady as she did so. Her round cheeks were flushed, whether from heat of a crowded room, the drink, or what else. She had a small button nose, giving her face an overall innocent look; but the dress she wore said something different. It was navy blue, hugging her body. He already saw the drape in the back, and the front covered more skin than showed it, coming up to her shoulders, but it didn't hide the fact that her chest was just as generous as her-

"For Christ's sake, get your shit together!"

He blinked and sighed, reaching up to his glasses to press a small button on the side of the frame, running the facial recognition.

It came up empty.

"Well, that's interestin'."

"What?"

"Don't 'what?' me, you know that facial recog is a no-go. Nothing is coming up… she ain't a civilian."

"What? Shit… I'll let Merlin know immediately. This can make things… sticky, Galahad. Confirm target. Couldn't hurt to try facial recog on this girl again at a closer angle."

He nodded, finishing his Martini and placing it on a nearby empty table. He walked around the room, still facing the curvy woman still so animatedly talking to his perspective target.

But suddenly, her eyes met his gaze, and they both stopped.

She frowned at first but then shook her head, breaking his gaze turning back to her conversation with the target. However the longer he looked, she kept glancing at him, the corner of her dark red lips curling down.

He looked at their drinks. The curvy girl's glass was still half full, and the target's flute of champagne was untouched. So that struck out him bringing them drinks to start a conversation. His eyes went to the girl's hand. No ring.

He looked up and noticed her head turning away at the last second.

He tilted his head and grinned, it turning into a full fledged smile as she tried another glance and her already pink cheeks turned a darker shade as she turned back to the woman she was talking to.

Then, his luck took a turn.

The target turned her head, finding him in the crowd. She smiled, tilting an eyebrow as she raised her hand, motioning him over.

He raised his eyebrows and just for theatrics looked over both of his shoulders before meeting her gaze again and pointing to himself.

The target nodded, motioning him over again.

He didn't hesitate as he walked over, glancing at the other woman, and saw that she wasn't flustered or embarrassed… but angry.

"Such a handsome man, all alone?" the target said, shaking her head as he approached the high table.

He only grinned and shrugged.

"Had a date… but I lost her," he lied, smiling at both of them. The unknown girl's lips tilted into a small frown as she stared at him, her blue eyes flashing daringly. He winked and grinned as he turned away from her shocked expression, hearing a slight 'hmph' as he reached out his hand to introduce himself to the target; the reason he was there in the first place. The girl next to him was just an added complication.

The facial recognition program still ran on his glasses, confirming his target: Marsha Valentine.

Either with a stroke of luck or with the right publicity team, the public took pity on the mother of the crazed man intent on 'cleansing' the world via digitized worldwide genocide instead of placing blame.

Yet what the oublic didn't know was that only three months after the worldwide tradgedy, while the globe was trying to recover from such a situation, Marsha's name started popping up as a prominent buyer and seller in the Black Market - which had started thriving more than ever after V-Day - spending countless amounts of money on blacklisted chemical ingredients and hardware, and even hiring blacklisted mechanical and chemical engineers flagged by worldwide agencies.

And thanks to the two different microchips Valentine had manufactured that were in the Kingsman's possession - the one for those who had the security chip and those that were left to survive - their branch was able to deconstruct and link Marsha Valentine's work as to an attempt at a second try, however it was only a theory. There will certain elements from her buying and selling that pointed to something bigger.

Was it a scorned mother continuing her son's work? Or maybe the mother who taught such crazy ideals to an influential young man in the first place? Maybe it was her plan all along…

Whatever the reason, he was here now; at a jazz bar she frequently visited weekend nights in the bustling city of New York.

But who the hell was this other woman? And why didn't her facial records show anything?

"However I consider it a silver linin', comin' upon two such lovely ladies," he added.

Marsha smiled and shook her head.

"Don't try to sweet talk me dear, I'm out of your league," she said.

The unknown woman joined him as he laughed, though hers was more mocking than anything.

"A woman who knows her strengths… however I might be able to convince you to think differently," he said, smiling at Marsha.

Her eyebrow twitched and she smiled at him before glancing at the other woman. But it was enough time for his glasses to scan her face and give the same message as before – her facial recog came up with zero results. Something was off.

"So, how do you two know each other?" he asked, keeping the conversation moving, glancing at the unknown woman again.

She plastered on a smile as she tipped her drink to Marsha.

"Oh, I just had to come and compliment her on her lovely brooch," she said.

Marsha nodded, her hand coming up to touch the pearls and diamonds in the shape of a peacock, pinned on the upper lapel of her dark green pantsuit.

"It's a favorite of mine," she said, darkness covering her gaze before she smiled and shook her head. "And she just had more to say. She's a stylist, isn't that amazing! Dresses up celebrities for the red carpet and everything," Marsha beamed at the unknown woman.

Just to mess with her again he turned to look at her, her blue eyes still a slight shock, but he felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward involuntarily.

"Well, seeing as how amazing she looks tonight, I might even want to hire her myself," he said softly.

Her blue eyes widened as she looked at Marsha and raised an eyebrow.

Marsha only laughed, shaking her head, sparing a glance between him and the unknown woman. Marsha then turned to the side, looking around his shoulder.

She smiled and he could tell that she faked a glance of recognition.

"Is that Katheryn?" she said aloud, "Oh, I must go say hello," she said, picking up her drink.

"Marsha, no," the girl protested, but Marsha shook her head.

"It'd be a disaster if she knew I was already here and I didn't say hello. I've got your card, dear, toodle-oo!"

He watched as Marsha turned to him, giving a sly smile before picking up her drink and walking away.

It was just the perfect amount of time for him to lithely draw his gun from its holster and turn to the unknown woman, bringing the barrel right against her ribs.

Tough luck was that he felt the same feeling of a gun being pressed against his crotch.

Who the fuck was he, and what the fuck was he doing here?

The second she met his gaze, she knew he was trouble. And not in the Taylor Swift way, but the 'definitely isn't here for jazz and a cocktail and has same interest in her target' kind of trouble.

Even before they locked gazes she had noticed him, circling the room as though scanning it for exits, possible threats… just as someone in her line of work would do.

And the way he sauntered over after Marsha motioned for him to join them, the way he looked down at her with a grin, giving her a look as though expecting her to swoon under his gaze pissed her off even more.

And now there they were, guns pointed at one another, though with the scared look that flashed in his eyes before he drew his lids to small slits, she knew she had the upper hand.

So weak. Aiming for the ribs? Always aim for the 'pertinent' parts: it's what gets them talking, it's what gets them listening to you.

He looked down at her, their bodies now closer than before; they had guns out, yes, but they were in a public place. To onlookers, they were just a man and woman staring each other down a breath apart.

"Well well well," he whispered.

"We've got a stand-off," she whispered back. She then grinned and adjusted the arm that held the gun against his prized 'assets', "However something tells me I might have the upper hand…" she faded off, hiding a grin as his eyebrows twitched at the movement, his eyes widening for a split second.

"So here's what's gonna happen," she continued softly, sternly, so he could hear her intent, "You're going to walk away and order another Martini at the bar. And then I'll never see you ever again. If I do, well, I've got a friend of mine who's now acquainted with a great," she adjusted her hand again and she watched his Adams apple twitch as he gulped, "friend of yours, so you can imagine what will happen."

He stared down at her unblinking for so long that she almost faltered, but she stayed strong, her eyes slightly burning as she kept them open.

He wasn't going to budge.

Time for another plan.

She reached up onto her tiptoes even though her heels gave her enough height with him and softly breathed into his ear, going the extra mile to give a hard bite at his earlobe; however a surprise it was, she recognized the first look he had given her – attraction.

And she was right, because she felt him shiver.

While he shivered, she lightly brought up her hand under his pinstripe suit jacket and located his second gun, quickly bringing it out of the holster and touching the barrel against his ribs.

He let out a sigh, and she grinned.

"Double the upper hand, oh my," she said.

He only grinned and she felt a small pinpoint of pain on her hip… son of a bitch, he'd pulled a knife on her. How had she missed that?

"Don't jump to conclusions, darlin'."

She tilted the gun up still against his chest and under his jacket, but closer to his heart.

"And checkmate."

He only shook his head, and she felt the point of the knife against her hip push into her skin - not enough to kill, but enough to harm. She involuntarily winced and gasped at the hard feeling of the blade sinking into her skin.

"I don't think so, luv" he whispered, "We're both gonna walk to that far hall at my five, where there's a rec room currently unoccupied."

She tilted her head, looking up at his glasses. The details he just provided…

She faltered and gave them a second look. She moved her hand and tucked his gun in the front of his pants and moved to reach up for the glasses, making sure the intent was clear in her eyes, and got the answer she was looking for. He flinched and shook his head, sinking the knife in her skin a bit more, making her grit her teeth and take in a deep breath through the pain as she quickly grabbed the gun and kept it where it was.

"Nice specks," she muttered in realization, internally smiling as his lips dipped into a frown.

"My five, ya get me?"

She almost frowned but instead kept a straight face.

"I'm sorry, but who has a gun pointed at whose groin right now, making that two guns?"

He grinned and shook his head, pushing the blade slightly deeper.

Shit, the pain enough told her it was gonna be something that would need more than a week to heal, but now she could only hope stitches weren't needed.

She involuntarily flinched and he smiled, bringing his mouth to her ear this time.

"Once we close that door, it's all or nothin', however you wanna play it. But we walk arm in arm, weapons down."

"I can walk alone without help, thanks. How about I go first?" she continued, "Give me a ten second head start. No weapons once we put them away. Whadya say?" she asked, grinning as she pushed the hand with the gun still against his manhood harder, grinning at his gasp.

When she felt the blade exit her skin, she gave a short nod and drew both hands in, one reaching around her back, putting her own gun into the holster near the edge of her braid, covered by the dress, and then lifting the hem of her dress to put his gun in her own knife holster, turning slightly so he didn't see it.

She felt him right behind her, missing her feet as he followed so close and felt more than heard his whisper, "Second door on the left."

Yeah, she wasn't going into that room.

With the tech in his glasses, she had a feeling he knew the layout of the room they were walking towards, so she was already at a disadvantage.

She looked down the hall, hearing the bustle and hustle of the kitchen at the far end, and a waitress came around the corner, holding a trey of h'orderves. The waitress faltered when she saw them, her eyes moving to her hip, her eyes wide. Shit, was she bleeding into this dress? It was one of her favorites…

She pasted on a wide smile and winked, which had the waitress looking at her, then the man right behind her. She sighed as she felt his arm wrap around her waist, pulling her back to let the waitress walk by.

His hand moved down to the wound in her hip and he used the heel of his hand to press in, making her gasp and writhe in pain.

"Second door-"

She didn't let him finish as she brought her leg up and stomped her heel on his shiny oxfords, snapping her head up to meet with his nose. She wrenched his arm from her and turned around, twisting it awkwardly as she brought her knee up to his stomach. She pulled away as he keeled over to pull out her butterfly blade, flicking her wrist to bring it out, her other hand in a fist.

He looked up at her, his smoothly coiffed hair now in a disarray… and grinned.

It was all so quick. She threw a punch, he blocked it and tried to counter, but she blocked that. She tried to cut his arm; he twisted out of the way. He tried to kick her leg in; she swung it up to kick him across the face, grateful for the stretchy fabric of her once favorite but now ruined dress thanks to the bleeding stab wound.

He kicked her hand and she dropped her butterfly blade. She cried out and snarled, throwing a punch that he ducked but she took the movement to bring up her knee to his face. He stumbled but grabbed onto her hand, moving so he threw her against the wall, moving his elbow to push his forearm up to her throat and pushing in.

She choked, feeling her face get red as he stared down at her.

"Aren't ya dirty! Thought we said no weapons."

"Yeah, well, I set the rules, so I can break em'," she said, feeling blood in her mouth. She grinned before she spat out, watching the flecks of blood splatter on his face and his suit.

"Christ, you're somethin' else," he said, adding more pressure on her throat, making her gasp, her head feeling light, "Too bad I gotta kill you."

She frowned, relaxing her body as though giving up but a second later stomping on his toes with her heel again. He let out a grunt but kept his arm against her neck, and she tried to cough but couldn't even breathe.

"Galahad, stand down!" a voice broke through the haze.

They both turned, and she blanched when she saw a woman with light brown hair in a high bun, wearing a black swing dress, pointing a gun at the two of them.

His pressure on her throat loosened and she gasped in a breath, moving her arm to reach behind to get her gun and bringing a knee up to his groin so he fell back, choking, bending over, and hitting the other side of the hall.

She raised the gun at him, and turned her head to the woman.

She heard a growl and turned just in time to see him charge at her. She ducked and turned as he hit the wall where she stood, adding a kick to his butt just for kicks as she flattened her back against the other side of the hall, re-aiming her gun at him again. This time, he was smart enough to stay still.

"Jesus, Galahad, she's one of us!" the woman said sharply, also in a British accent.

"Huh?" they both let out as his head snapped up to meet her gaze. He raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down as if with new eyes.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked, turning her head and hand to point her gun at the other woman who didn't falter, keeping her arms steady.

She frowned, tightening her hand around the gun, her finger light on the trigger. She brought her other hand up to the wound at her hip, adding pressure. She felt a little light – she couldn't have lost that much blood…

"You don't… you don't recognize his name?"

"Why the fuck would I recognize some mumbo jumbo like that? Galohoop? Galawho?" she snapped, turning to look at the said person, now leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, tilting his head and grinning at her.

"Bite me," she growled, turning back to the other woman as he laughed.

The other woman raised an eyebrow, but shook her head, slowly yet surely relaxing her arm but keeping the gun pointed at her.

"But you're…" the other woman faded off, now looking confused.

She rolled her eyes; she didn't have time for this. She fired her gun at the woman, the tranq dart hitting her neck before turning to the man, who now had his gun out, pointed right at her, but he wasn't looking at her. She watched him as he watched the other woman fall to the floor.

He turned and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Tranquilizer?" he asked in a daze.

She shrugged. He didn't even deserve a false excuse – he was just an unexpected problem that she'd taken care of. Business as usual. She aimed and pulled the trigger, the tranq dart hitting his shoulder.

"What the fuck?" he said.

Knowing he wouldn't shoot her now, she frantically searched the ground and found it, rushing forward and picking up the butterfly blade, flicking her wrist to close it up as she tucked it back under her dress.

"What… who…" he said, his voice faltering. She turned and watched as his legs gave out and he fell to the floor.

She raised an eyebrow. She thought her dose was good for one, but he was still awake. She sighed and walked forward, looking down at him.

"If you took my original offer in the first place, you could've saved us all this trouble," she said, raising her gun again.

He shook his head, muttering gibberish, and she pulled the trigger, the dart hitting his leg.

"See you never," she finished, shaking her head as she looked around and froze.

There was a cluster of waiters and waitresses at the doorway to the kitchen, all staring wide eyed, their eyes darting back and forth between her and the two unconscious bodies.

She sighed, tucked a few flyaway strands of hair behind her ear, and tugged at the hem of her dress to straighten it out, even though it was beyond repair.

She gave them a nod.

"Have a good night, guys," she said before walking twoards them.

She heard a few gasps and mutters as they moved out of her way. She quickly walked through the kitchen and out into the alley, hailing a cab once she reached the street.

Hello, Goodbye by The Beatles