Music is "The Whisperer" by David Guetta featuring Sia.

Picture is young Colin Firth as Galahad.

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CHAPTER SEVEN: Kingsman

{July 27, 1981 -- Thirty-Three Years Ago}

"What the bloody hell sort of name is 'Galahad'?"

The man so called tilts his head slightly, hand still extended towards me. "The code-name sort."

I push away his hand, getting to my feet on my own. I see Galahad roll his eyes as I collect myself, eyeing the dead HYDRA agent on the ground a foot away. "I suppose I owe you a thank you then."

He bends over to swipe him umbrella from the floor, bushing off his suit jacket. "No thanks necessary. However, I do suggest we get out of here before someone hears that little scuffle. Wouldn't want to be arrested during such an important wedding, yes?"

I turn my eyes back to Galahad, wondering if he's joking. "Um...no offense, but I'm not going anywhere with someone I hardly know. Who even are you? You have training and weapons. You must work for someone, but clearly not HYDRA. What are you? MI6? SHIELD's British Division?"

Galahad chuckles softly, placing the point of his umbrella on the carpeted flooring. "My dear, I am nothing of the sort. MI6 is for children, and SHIELD is a babe in the intelligence world. My organization is much older than both. I am a Kingsman."

"Never heard of you," I reply, shortly.

Galahad grins. "Excellent." He turns, heading back into my room, where my suitcase is. He comes back out with it in his other hand. He holds it out to me. "Now, we really should be leaving."

Since he's not really giving me a choice, and since I have few other options this far from SHIELD's help, I take the suitcase and follow him we he heads for the fire escape at the end of the hallway. We head down the metal stairs, getting to the ground before we hear a scream from the hotel.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask, easily keeping up with Galahad's easy strides down the busy London street. "Why did you save me?"

"So many questions, Emma," he sighs, turning to look at me before crossing the street. "We're going to a safe-house. And I saved you because the Kingsmen need your help."

"There are more of you?" I ask, eyes widening.

Galahad chuckles, "Oh yes. Many more. I am merely the newest agent to join--" He cuts himself off, a look of confusion crossing his face. "Actually, that is incorrect. My protégé is the newest. His name is Merlin. You'll get to meet him when we get to the safe-house."

"Spectacular," I mumble to myself. "So, who are the Kingsmen, besides a large group of Arthurian legend nerds? I've been an agent for a very long time and I've never once heard of you."

"The Kingmen are a very elite group of highly-trained operatives that deal with global threats. We don't get caught up in the minutia of politics or national lines, although we primarily operate in the United Kingdom. We protect our people from threats that haven't surfaced. This is why we have been able to remain underground. But we've been here for centuries, have no doubt about that."

"So you're spies," I repeat, putting his words simply.

Galahad gives me a side-eye glance, accompanied with a sigh. "That's oversimplifying things...but yes. I suppose we are."

"Why do you need my help?" I ask again as we cross the busy roads of Trafalgar Square. "Don't the Kingmen have more than two agents?"

"We have many agents: myself, Merlin, Lancelot, and Arthur to name a few. But this threat is important to the balance of power in Europe...and possibly the world. We need your...unorthodox approach to saving the world."

I stop in front of a posh tuxedo store. Savile Row around us is surprisingly quiet; only a few people are walking around the block. I grip my suitcase tightly in one hand and place the other on my hip. "You want to recruit me?"

Galahad turns, standing straight and proper as he responds, "Again, oversimplifying the situation. Our recruits go through rigorous tests of skill, strength, and stamina before even being considered an agent. To become a Kingsman, one of the present agents has to die, and no agents have done so since our previous Merlin. There is no place for you in the Kingmen."

I roll my eyes. "How kind of you."

"But we need all the help we can get," he admits, his voice changing as his eyes flicker away from mine. "Our current mission is of utter importance. Lives are in the balance. We cannot fail. That is why Arthur entrusted me with finding you and asking for your help."

My grey eyes narrow, inspecting the gentleman before me. "I got out of all of this years ago because it consumed me. I was a shell of who I was. Revenge, fighting, what I called justice...it was a drug, and I was addicted. What makes you think I'd risk a relapse just to help you and your boy's club?"

Galahad adjusts his thick glasses, stating his next words plainly. "Because the wedding of his royal highness, Prince Charles--heir to the throne of England, to Lady Diana of Wales is our current mission."

His words sink in over a period of moments. This isn't just some random mission where they're low on hired help. This is a mission that has the royal family involved. If anything were to happen in two days, at the wedding, the entire monarchy could be at risk. If Charles is killed, the United Kingdom--as well as the Commonwealth--would be in jeopardy. If Lady Diana is killed, there would be public outrage after the death of their hero. This marriage has to go off without a hitch, or the world may never be the same. And not in a good way.

Seeing the dire circumstances, I breathe out easily and nod. "All right. I'll help you with this mission. But this mission alone."

If I thought Galahad could smile--really smile, not just that knowing grin he does--he would be right now. "Excellent. Shall we?" He motions to the store beside us.

"It's a tailor shop," I say, confused.

"Look closer."

I turn to fully look at the storefront, seeing several suits in the window. They range in colors and styles with different accessories, but it's only when I see the name that I realize what he means.

The name of the tailor shop is "Kingsman."

"In we go," Galahad insists, bounding up the brick stairs to the door. He opens it, motioning for me to enter first. "Ladies first."

I ignore the smirk he gives me as I pass him a glare, entering the tailor shop. We enter through a second set of glass doors, then finally step into the old century room of the tailor shop. It's bigger than I expected. The walls are a forest green, and the several sets of bookshelves are deep mahogany. There's a large, ornate carpet on the floor that looks like it cost a fortune. A set of armchairs and a single sofa are directly to my left, a place for patrons to sit and relax whilst their comrades are being fitted for what seems to be a very expensive suit. Past the seating area, a large fireplace roars a steady flame.

Two tales line the walkway to the front desk, holding bolts of fabric of every color and style. Overhead, a golden chandelier hangs. An older man stands behind the desk, busying himself with paperwork. Behind him, a third glass door, a small staircase to an unseen second floor, a grandfather clock, and a framed photograph of Queen Elizabeth. As we walk up to the front desk, I pass two doors labeled "Fitting Room."

Galahad steps up to the front desk, more like he owns the store than as a customer. "Where's Merlin?" he asks the man at the desk.

The older man with thinning white hair nods towards one of the fitting rooms. "Waiting for you to return, Sir."

Galahad turns towards said fitting room and motions for me to follow him. "Call down to Merlin," he says to the man at the desk. "Tell him I'm bringing a friend."

Galahad opens the door to the fitting room, inviting me inside. When I hesitate, he says, "Don't worry. If I was going to kill you, I'd have let the HYDRA agent do it."

Despite the nervousness I feel in my stomach, I follow Galahad into the fitting room. He walks over to the mirror, placing his hand on the glass. When he pulls away, I see that the glass has scanned his hand print for biological identification. "Bio-metrics," I mumble to myself, eyes widening. "I've only seen that in a few places before. How...?"

Galahad turns to me with a look of pride. "I told you. The Kingsmen have been around for a long, long time. And as such, we have certain...advancements that other intelligence agencies do not." He motions to my hands. "Might want to hold on to something. This part always catches acquaintances off-guard."

Before I can ask what he means by that, the room trembles, then starts to descend underground. I place my right hand on the wall, making sure I stay upright. The trembling stops, and the mirrors in front of us start to ascend. "It's like a lift," I say, trying to hold a grin in.

"Exactly. Except this lift is going to the Kingsman base at Wrotham Park."

"Why is it underground?"

"Oh, but it isn't."

I give my companion a look of confusion. "Pardon?"

Galahad chuckles, placing the point of his umbrella on the floor. "Just wait a few minutes and all will be revealed, Emma."

I shake my head as his response, watching the walls rise above us for the next minute or so. The room shifts once again, and I get the distinct feeling that we're traveling horizontally and not vertically. Once it stops, we exit the lift, heading back out the door that we entered the fitting room through. On the other side, I see a sight not too different from the old century tailor shop that must be miles away by now.

On the other side is a glorious mansion, decorated with all the ornate detail of Buckingham Palace. High, vaulted ceilings and large doorways lead to huge rooms with polished floors and décor pieces that must cost a fortune. I try to not stare too long as Galahad leads me through the open hallway.

"Where are we?" I ask, looking at the crafted ceilings above me.

Galahad responds softly, "I told you: Wrotham Park."

"But isn't that nearly fifteen miles from where we were?" He nods. "We couldn't have traveled fifteen miles in a couple minutes! It's impossible."

He turns to me before opening a door at the end of the hallway. "Almost as impossible as you being sixty-three and still looking twenty-five?" He raises an eyebrow, waiting for a sarcastic response. When he sees I have none, he turns to the doorway. I walk behind him, into a smaller room.

The smaller room is similar to the others we've passed. However, this room is covered, wall to wall, with portraits of various men. Some I almost recognize. Some I don't recognize at all.

Besides the portraits on the walls, two other men sit at the long, rectangular table. Over half a dozen chairs line the wooden table. One of the men sits at the head of the table, facing me from his seated position. The second man sits to his right.

The first man is much older than either his companion or Galahad, probably in his late forties, early fifties. He has light blond hair that is turning white, and his blue eyes are foggy with age and experience. The second man is much younger, even younger than Galahad, barely old enough to vote. This man--or boy rather--has short dark hair and hazel eyes that still shine. He gives me a small smile as we enter, and if I weren't both confused and apprehensive about what the events of the next couple days might be, I may have smiled back.

He must be Merlin, the newest agent and Galahad's protégé he told me about on the way here. No one's eyes shine that brightly after being in a secret organization for years. I would know.

The older man speaks directly to Galahad after he closes the door. "Is this her?"

Galahad nods once, his face serious. "Yes, Arthur. She's agreed to help. Shall I bring her up to speed?"

"Jesus Christ, Har--Galahad," Merlin laughs in a strong Scottish accent, seeming to catch himself saying Galahad's other name. He leans back in his chair, having a causality that no one else in the room holds. A lopsided smile forms on his face. "When you said you were bringing a friend, I thought you meant Mr. Pickle!"

I give Galahad a confused expression. "'Mr. Pickle?"

Harry sighs, "My pet Cairn terrier."

Merlin speaks up again, stating, "I love that dog."

Harry gives Merlin a stern expression. "She's a lady, Merlin. Please, act like you have some manners."

Merlin's face falls a little, almost as if he's realized how rude he sounded. I cross my arms as Merlin hops up from his seat. He walks over to me, an apologetic look on his face. "He's right, as usual. Sorry about the comment, lassie. I tend to put my foot in my mouth. I can be a wee dobber sometimes." He extends his hand, an olive branch.

Despite not knowing what a "dobber" is, I take it and give him a small smile. "No harm done, Merlin was it?"

Merlin grins at the mention of his code-name. "Still getting used to that one, but yes." He retracts his hand, looking at Galahad. "Are you all right?"

Galahad nods. "There was only one HYDRA agent at the hotel. I got her out before more arrived, if any arrived at all."

"And you weren't tailed?" Arthur asks.

Galahad shakes his head from side to side. "I may have only been a Kingsman agent for a few years, but I know when I'm being followed. I learned that much in the Army."

"You were in the Army?" I ask.

He nods, but Arthur speaks again. "We need to get her caught up on what we know. Even since you left, we have more details on the threat against the royal wedding." Arthur motions with his hand. "Merlin, show Galahad and Mrs. Barnes what we've collected thus far."

Merlin agrees, "Aye, Arthur." He walks between Galahad and I, opening the door. He turns to grin at me over his shoulder. "I bet Galahad thinks he's showed you a good time, lassie. Want to see why being a Kingsman is really fun?"

END CHAPTER SEVEN: Kingsman.