Renegades

There was something about Dipper Pines when you looked at him. Dashing good looks, horrendous choice in clothing. Sticks up for the common good of his friends, loses his footing to a Robbie Valentino and company, therefore making his pretty face all the more prettier.

Moral capability, yet chooses a life of crime when he could be so, so much more. Bill Cipher followed this young man for ages until he was sure he would be perfect for Kingsman. After following him to a small flat in the particularly shady part of London, where he lived with another Kingsman candidate (Mabel Pines, his twin sister, lovely girl, tenacity to the umpteenth power and as clever and witty as a fox), Bill Cipher was certain of his choice.

Dipper Pines was the next choice for Kingsman. Oh tut tut, but when to break the news to him? Maybe around the next time the poor idiot got arrested, Bill mused. The next few days were going to be very interesting to every party involved.

Two days later, while Bill was casually observing the paper and sipping a good coffee, he saw Dipper run down an alleyway, and into a pub named Wendy’s. “What in the world is that moron doing now?” Bill thought, and then was answered by Valentino’s horde of brats following him in.

Bill sighed, and put down his paper and cup, and followed the rest of them into the bar, just to see if things were going to get out of hand. Knowing Dipper’s habits, they were going to get very bad.

He slipped in quietly as he could and watched the surroundings.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Pines” Valentino growled. “No one takes my car out and no one takes my girl from me. You’re going to die and there isn’t anything your stupid twin sister can do to get you out of this one.” Dipper was bleeding from a cut above the eye where he had taken a nasty blow from one of the oafs. “Mabel doesn’t fight all my battles, you pricks. Leave me alone, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Should he speak now? They were laughing at the poor kid, he’s got to do something at least.

One of the brats pulled out a knife. Bill winced, and that was when he decided to speak up. “Gentlemen, I don’t think antagonizing this young man here would do you any good. He has powerful friends, and I’d rather not read in the papers that your mothers had to see you in worse conditions than you already are.” Everyone looked at him, including Dipper, whose wide brown eyes belied a certain relief and narrow suspicion that was familiar to any basement rat after it was cornered.

“Yeah, old man, what kinda friends does this freak have?” Valentino sneered.

“He has me, for starters.” Bill said thoughtfully, pursing his lip, and primly brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his suit. Valentino snorted, and his entire gang hemmed and hawed like donkeys behind him. What is with the youth of today? Have they no sense of seniority? Bill pondered this as the crowd got dangerously loud.

“Get out of here, y’old nutter. This isn’t your fight.”

Bill smiled, and from Dipper’s point of view, it wasn’t more of a smile but a baring of predatory sharp teeth. Bill winked at Dipper, who self consciously looked away, a rosy tint on his cheeks and walked over to the only exit in the bar.

“Manners” he said as he locked the door “maketh man.” He hefted a nice sized pint glass and appreciated the weight for a second, before he threw it, and batted it with his cane, where it hit one of the oafs with particularly bloody accuracy in the middle of the head, knocking him down with a resounding and dull thud of the hardwood. “Now, gentlemen, are we just going to stand there, or are we going to fight?”

The next several minutes were a dizzying blur of Bill making moves and sending every single patron of the bar bloody and unable to move or unconscious, or sometimes even both. After what could have been a solid seven minute brawl, all that was left standing was Bill Cipher and Dipper Pines, whose jaw looked to be a permanent fixture of the floor at this point. Bill crooked a finger to Dipper as an invitation to follow him, and that was when the questions appeared.

“Who are you?”

“Bill Cipher, at your service, come to recruit you.”

“Mate, I ain’t in the service no more, you gotta find someone else.”

“I’m not from the army, you idiot.”

Dipper stopped and looked at Bill. “Then where are you from?”

“Kingsman, love.” Bill stepped closer to Dipper, and wiped a smear of blood off of his face. “Poor boy” he murmured. “Let’s hope that doesn’t scar.” Dipper, shocked and slightly delighted at the fact that the older man seemed to have taken an...intense fascination with him, was speechless for several seconds, before he asked another question.

“What is Kingsman?”

“It’s an organization, not unlike MI6 and the CIA, except we aren’t motivated by what the government deems a threat. We are here for the good of all humanity.” Dipper looked at Bill for a second, then a huge grin came onto his face. “So you’re a spy” he said. “In loose, coarse terms, you could say that. Arthur wouldn’t like that word though.”

“And I’m guessing Arthur is your boss.”

“His name is Stanley, but the agency has a tradition with using the names from Le Morte D’Arthur. And yes, you could say he is my superior.” Dipper frowned. “You use names from King Arthur and his Round Table as code names, and you have superiors? I’d thought all of you James Bond types would work for yourselves, Dirty Harry style.”

“Just because I can beat an entire room of thugs you had on your back in seven and a half minutes doesn’t mean that I don’t still answer to a boss and a committee, you know. And what did you do to warrant them to almost kill you, by the way?” Dipper looked embarrassed. He mumbled out a reply. “Stole his convertible without him knowing and took it out for a joyride, after I had ah...did stuff with his girl.”

“You’re a straight man?”

Dipper smiled wryly. “Nah, mate. Just because I’d mess around with his girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m not open to...other opportunities. Robbie just has a stick so far up his arse he can’t take a shit without it paining him.” That remark and the way he looked at Bill made Bill sweat slightly. After chastising himself for flirting with the next Galahad, Bill motioned for his car to pull up.

“Your car drives itself?” Dipper looked at him, impressed. Now it was Bill’s turn to laugh and smile. “I have a cane that shoots out poisonous darts that leave the mark unconscious, yet you’re impressed with a self driving car? There is just so much more to show you.”

They got into the car and talked frankly about things. Bill learned that Dipper doesn’t know much of his extended family, and lived with his sister (which Bill already knew), and his parents were permanent visitors of Australia. “Do you have any family here, Dipper?”

“Two great-uncles, but I’ve never met them before.”

“What was your last name again, Dipper?”

“Pines. Why?”

Bill laughed. “You’ll see.”

“You don’t give anything away, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re a spy. You work for an organization and I’m assuming you have friends. Why do you act like everything has to be inside you for you to get a good grip?” The two were quiet for a second and Dipper laughed awkwardly and blushed again. “I’m sorry, I talk a lot, and that’s how I get myself into most of these messes. Plus, I’m trying to seduce you so I can learn how to use that cane gun.”

Bill looked him once over and laughed. “As if that’s ever going to happen.”

Dipper winked. “Aw, well, you never know.”

They smiled at each other and Bill was about to say something when they pulled up to headquarters, where Merlin and Arthur were taking tea with Mabel on the front lawn.

“Mabel?” Dipper was confused, and Bill could only mentally berate himself for not having gone over that she too was a Kingsman candidate.

Mabel grinned, and patted the seat next to her. “Hello, beta twin, it’s good to see you. May I introduce Stanley and Stanford Pines, our great uncles?”