Kingsman: Secret Service with my OC!

Prologue

"Hold still you little brat!" 

It was just another day in the life that Tasha had been experiencing for almost the past year: she was being strapped down to a freezing cold metal table in the secret facility she was being held captive in, whilst she was wearing nothing but what looked like a ragged and torn white hospital gown, so that they could do even more experiments on her. Right now, she was struggling hard against the scientists that were tying her down and thrashing ferociously. 

"No!" She exclaimed. She was only 6 years old, but she still understood what was going on. One of the scientists reached for a syringe after strapping her down to the table, and Tasha's eyes widened. She'd been injected with God knew what so many times that she'd lost count. 

"This may sting. If you behave, it hopefully won't hurt for you as much as I want it to." The scientist holding the syringe said, menacingly, and seeing this, Tasha's eyes turned icy pale blue, and her black irises narrowed to slits, like the eyes of a snake, as she knocked him back with an energy barrier. He got up from the ground and growled, "You... you little...! You'll pay for that!" 

And he held the syringe high up in the air, but then, Tasha heard a loud explosion, and after she yelled in surprise, she turned her head to the side so that she'd could lay low and avoid the gunshots if there were any coming her way. 

There were loud noises all around her, and she shut her eyes tightly in protection, until a few moments later, she opened her eyes when she felt someone untying the straps that held her down, and turned to look at whoever it was. It was a tall man in a grey business suit, black framed glasses and dark blonde hair (I'm sure you all know who this guy is), and she just stared at him for a moment before he'd finished untying the straps.

"Now, come on. Let's get you out of here." He said to her, kindly. "Are you alright?" 

Tasha nodded, but didn't say anything. Her dad had told her numerous times before not to talk to strangers. This man held out his hand for her to take, and she plucked up the courage to take it, but as he tried to help her to her feet, Tasha gasped out in pain as her feet touched the floor and she fell back onto the table again. 

"Can you walk?" He asked her. Tasha shook her head. He considered what he was going to do next for a moment before he held out his arms and picked up Tasha, carrying her out of the room and out of the facility as she held on tight to him and looked up at him in fascination. 

"There's nothing we can do for her now to fix what they did to her." A doctor told Tasha's father and the man who rescued her a while later, as Tasha sat off to the side in a wheelchair, staring up at her saviour with the same fascination as earlier.

"I understand." Her dad acknowledged. "What about her legs?" 

"The side effects of the experiments have paralysed her legs. It took a while to kick in, but now she'll have to take perscribed medication once a day and use a wheelchair until she recovers, which should take 5 or 6 years on average." 

"Okay." Her dad acknowledged. Then he turned towards the man in the business suit next to him who had saved Tasha. "Thank you so much for rescuing my daughter from that horrible place!" 

"No problem at all, sir." He replied, then turned towards Tasha while her dad and the doctor talked about what to do next. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Tasha." She replied, not staring as directly as she was before so that it didn't look rude. 

"Well, Tasha," He began, reaching inside his breast pocket for something, and pulled out a necklace with a logo of the letter K on it, and fastened it around her neck. "If you ever need help, or a favour, phone the number on the back of the necklace and say 'Oxfords, not Brogues'. Okay?" 

"Okay." She said, nodding as she clasped the letter K pendant on the necklace tightly in her hand. What did the K stand for? She wondered. "Thank you for saving me." She thanked him. 

"Anytime, Tasha." He smiled, then turned around and left the room as Tasha twirled the pendant in her fingers and chanted

"Oxfords, not Brogues." Under her breath so that she'd remember it, even though she was only 6 years old, so she struggled with the obscure words. 

And that's how Tasha's story began.