the year after v-day is hell for all governmental parties. while valentine's plot hadn't come to full fruition — there'd not been a 99% wipe out of humanity all across the globe, and his chosen few hadn't repopulated the earth and molded its process with his hand picked gene pool — there'd still been significant casualities. even after it's released that richmond valentine had been behind it all, there'd still been mass scrambling to cover the asses of the (remaining) elected officials that didn't check up on his projects. the world calls for all private technology companies to go public with all their endevours, and the ensuing chaos and deep seeded distrust of all powerful people made for prime conditions for crime to spring up. everything from petty theft to grand scale heists and expansive human trafficking rings, and with half the kingsman's original roster having gotten their heads blown off like the rest of valentine's pocketed party goers, that leaves them a bit short staffed while merlin (or arthur, as absolutely no one calls him) trains new recruits.
they aren't solitary creatures; everyone's perfectly capable of working as a team, but the facts are they haven't got enough members to allow for double missions anymore — nor do they have enough numbers to allow anyone a vacation. so from june to march of the next year, roxy barely sets foot in her own home (a company perk and looking like something out of a catologue, it's that untouched) and seldom stops by hq except to shower, change, debrief, and pick up her new plane tickets to the other side of the world. she spends a month in america rooting out an underground drug ring intent on recreating the effects of valentine's v-chip, but in snortable form, and another two in france, worming her way into the newly established mafia in attempts at getting close enough to their leader to cap him.
most of the time she's in very little contact with merlin, the voice in her ear only chiming in when information has changed — this is no longer a recon mission, terminate at your discretion, lancelot — or when she does something wrong. roxy learns early on that updates from home are a no-go while in enemy territory (not that either of her parents are thrilled by this mysterious and dumb tailoring position she's accepted), and updates on her fellow kingsman are just ridiculous to even ask for. and she loves her job, really. but she can't help think that it'd be nice to spend a few quality hours around people she might not have to shoot in the face next week.
so naturally, one of the few occasions where she's not immediately whisked off to minsk or bulgaria upon arrival at the uk hq, and when she hears eggsy's flying in the same evening, roxy politely asks (all but begs) to play valet and pick him up from the public air strip. and merlin — sir one of my recruits just actually shot his fucking dog and i'm tired merlin — doesn't put up much of a fight about it, just asks that galahad be brought back to the mansion for debrief so they could be done with the mess in costa rica.
it's a simple black town car, and she's in her simple kingsman issue jacket, leaning up against the passenger door when the plane touches down. roxy's got an umbrella overhead because what had started as a light drizzle quickly became huge, soaking droplets intent on soaking one to the bone, but she's smiling. and strolls out to meet him on the tarmac, lifting the edge of the umbrella to cover his head as well. )
I heard you'd ordered a taxi, sir, ( she teases, nodding her head back to the comandeered self driving taxi and trying to pretend she wasn't really damned happy to see him — perhaps even happy to ignore merlin's demand for his return and take the scenic, long route in order to catch up. )
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