Hey there, A Silver Dolphin here. Thank you for giving this a read. The idea for this Fanfic came from the Yang Vs. Neo fight. Tell me you weren't amazed by the way she fought with her umbrella.

Do note that this is my first foray into writing. I hope you will provide constructive criticism to improve my writing skills.

The reason this isn't categorized under 'crossovers' is that I am only borrowing the concepts of 'Kingsman: The Secret Service'. After this chapter, no characters from Kingsman will be making an appearance.

Disclaimer: I hereby declare that I do not own RWBY. It is owned by Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. I can however, declare that I have a RWBY tee shirt. The only thing that I can declare about Kingsman: The Secret Service, is that it is an awesome movie and I sadly, do not own it.

Chapter 1: A Different Path

The Crocea Mors. A long sword. Designed for extending one's reach then cutting and slashing. Not stabbing. Definitely not stabbing. It's a pity Jaune didn't know that. Lunging with a long sword only brought about more openings for any experienced fighter to exploit.

Perhaps he should have tried practicing with it before taking the Signal entry exams. Idly, he wondered whether he should have spent less time with his sisters and more time training.

Wasting precious time during a battle, it should come as no surprise that his opponent took the chance to throw a haymaker right at his face, pummelling him into the ground. Yep. Should've spent more time training.

Honestly, it wasn't that he was incapable or lazy. Caring for seven sisters, especially since they couldn't even cook—without burning down half the house—meant that he'd had relatively little time to himself. Not to mention the finance.

Why couldn't Jade choose to be an accountant instead of a huntress? Oh Monty, how much ammo could they possibly need? Seriously. Two huntsmen for parents and seven prodigious huntresses-in-training and they couldn't even learn to use a damned calculator? If he wasn't good at math, the Arc family would have been deep in the red by now.

"Head's up Kiddo!" His opponent taunted. Recovering in a surprisingly graceful motion- growing up around huntsmen did have its perks- Jaune took a moment to size up his opponent.

The first thing he noticed was that she had stunning blonde hair. Obviously well cared for. Narrowed lilac eyes glared straight into him, watching his every move. A budding chest with a size no thirteen year old should have. Two golden gauntlets loaded with shotgun shells, primed and ready to fire. Wait.

"Cha-Ching!" She said with the widest grin on her face.

Jaune raised his shield to deflect the bullets.

Ricochet.

Thank you shield. I love you.

Breaking into a dash, he closed the gap between them. Shocked by the sudden turnaround, his foe stood baffled. In a moment of brilliance, he mirrored his granddad's stance. With a rising arc, the sword cut across her front. And clipped off a small lock of hair.

Well…Mistakes were made.

Lilac eyes flashed red. Fire sprang forth.

Jaune celebrated for a moment. He'd landed his first hit! Granted, it was already ten minutes into the spar, and she'd pummelled him into every side of the arena…and the floor…Goddamnit. Head back in the game!

Jaune focused his eyes back onto her. Ocean blue met crimson red. Wait a second. Weren't her eyes lilac?

"Alright." She growled. "You've just made things personal. Kiddy gloves coming right off."

It took Jaune a second to process what she said. A second was all she needed. The girl discharged two fiery bursts from her gauntlets and used the recoil to launch high into the air. Two more bursts shot out into the sky and propelled her onto a collision course. Gauntlet met face. Face met ground. Jaune whimpered.

Unfortunately for him, that mere tiny punch was not enough to justify cutting off a strand of her marvellous hair. Her fist poised itself for yet another punch, and she-

"Stop. I've seen enough. The victor is Yang Xiao Long." The examiner declared coldly.

"Hehe…That's my niece." He stopped to take a swig of liquor, only to find the bottle empty. Qrow Branwen looked around the balcony for his secret stash. Overlooking Signal's combat arena, the balcony was furnished with a couple seats situated to get an optimal view of any spar. Fumbling around, he moved the curtains aside, revealing a small hidden box. It goes without saying that he promptly switched bottles.

"Indeed. A true fighter. She'd make a fine Huntress." A familiar, deep voice replied.

Qrow shifted his eyes from the bottle to the source of the voice. His eyes widened slightly.

"Galahad? What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Please. Call me Harry. We've known each other long enough to forgo such formalities, Percival."

The middle aged man wore a bespoke suit, accentuating his muscular frame. Old, Intelligent eyes slightly veiled behind elegant, sleek jet-black spectacles. Tousled dark brown hair covered the crown of his head. All in all, he looked like the very definition of a regal gentleman.

"I'm afraid to say that I come as the barer of bad news. Lancelot has left us. Taken by the new White Fang." Harry spoke stoically, visibly saddened by his words.

Qrow stood fully alert, and remained still for a few seconds before slackening and moving back towards the stash of liquor. He retrieved two shot glasses, before pouring whiskey into both. Harry opened the palm of his hand to receive a glass. But Qrow made no move to pass it over, instead he raised both glasses into the air.

"To Lancelot". The dusty, old crow toasted.

"…You know," Harry gestured to his empty hand. "It is tradition for each man to have a glass in his hand before toasting."

"They're both for me. Get your own stash." Harry slightly glared at him, before sighing resignedly.

In a display of excellent coordination, the crow simultaneously downed both glasses without spilling a drop.

"To Lancelot." Harry deadpanned, sarcastically raising his empty hand, grasping an invisible glass. Typical Qrow.

"So, what's Arthur's take on this?" Qrow asked, rather dazed from downing two shots so quickly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You will continue your investigation surrounding our mysterious Queen. He's tasked me to find a protégé and Lancelot's replacement. After our last betrayal, the normal selection process is being revised." He spoke.

Qrow grimaced slightly at the mention of the betrayal. He was actually having a great day until he heard the bad news. Yang had just made it into Signal after all.

"Ugh. So… Onto lighter news," Qrow smiled. "What'cha think about the spar just now? My niece kicks ass doesn't she?"

"Indeed." Your language could use some work though... And perhaps a breath mint might be in order.

"Her reflexes are incredible for one so young. Quite the power behind those fists. Her weapons fit her combat style perfectly. You've trained her well. Though I thought she'd only make her weapon once she'd enter her second year?" Harry complimented.

"Eheh," Qrow rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "What can I say? Kid didn't like any other birthday present. I kind of feel sorry for her opponent. His theoretical scores were pretty high. He'd have made a good Signal student. Sad that his swordplay was pretty damn abysmal."

"Hmm…Fair enough. I'd say that her opponent was actually rather good. Every Huntsman has his own signature weapon, yet that sword does not belong to him. It doesn't suit him, hence the terrible swordplay. But do not you recognize the sword and shield? Or how familiar his movements were when he managed his one good strike?"

Qrow took a second to replay the memory. It couldn't be.

"The Crocea Mors. The previous Galahad's weapons." Qrow said.

"Incredible, isn't it. To think they'd see service once more." Harry spoke forlornly, recollecting his mentor's lessons.

"Wait. That means the kid's an Arc. But his fight was terrible." Qrow Lamented.

"His Aura should have been… He fought my niece without any Aura?!"

Harry smiled and his eyes gleamed briefly. He'd found a candidate for the next Kingsman.

Jaune Arc had a new middle name.

Despair.

It fit him quite well actually, considering the fact that he was sitting alone on a bench with eyes clearly swollen, shoulders slumped and generally looking as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The rain only added to the atmosphere.

He felt too ashamed to go home. Each of his seven sisters had managed to enter Signal. Heck, they'd aced the entry test without breaking a sweat.

"What am I supposed to do now…" Jaune croaked, throat a little bit sore.

He truly worked hard to get to the level he was at. Neither of his parents had time to train him, being full-time Huntsmen themselves, especially with his older twin sisters taking Beacon's entry exams soon. Moreover, he had yet to satisfy one of the Arc family traditions before receiving training-unlocking his own Aura without help.

Nevertheless he did what any aspiring Huntsman would do. Watch television for inspiration and attempt to translate Superhero fighting moves into real life. While one particular movie-loving sister did convince him such an action would surely result in success, it didn't. Obviously though, he'd tried his best.

When he wasn't occupied with his sisters' machinations, he committed himself to a strict regime. He did his physical training. He tried—countless times—to unlock his aura. He tried sparring with his sisters. He ate his vegetables. What more could you ask?

He let out a sigh.

I guess I'll pick up the groceries on the way ho- Did that guy just throw a coin at me?! I'm not a hobo!

"Wait, I don't need this." Jaune said, rather hurriedly.

"Keep it kid. Get yourself a nice coffee. Go to Brewster's. Two blocks down. You're too young to be wallop in despair." The guy remarked as he kept on walking, waving his right hand in a dismissive motion.

Jaune watched as the man walked across the street and out of his sight. He was told not to take advice from strangers. But the man's words seemed like a godsend. He could really use a nice hot chocolate…

"Sorry, son. We don't serve hot chocolate. But I could offer you some coffee? It's freshly made. Beans were grinded just a couple minutes ago…"

Jaune left the cafe, his new favourite drink in hand. By Monty, the mere smell of the beverage warmed his heart. Each sip felt as if he were held in a warm embrace. A hot drink could always cheer you up.

Feeling slightly better, Jaune started heading home. It was getting dark, and he had to cook dinner anyway. He'd break the bad news to his parents, and he'd figure out what to do from there.

Taking the long route home, the Signal rejectee walked off the main road and into a park. He'd always liked how scenic it looked before night. At this time, he'd beat the night-time rush and the park would be virtually empty. Just him and nature. Perfect for contemplating what he'd say to his parents.

Of course, fate had a different plan for him.

A man was being mugged.

Just by the pond, an older man was being held at knife point. The thugs picked their target well. Oh yes, they'd make a lot off of him. The older man wore a very expensive suit. Signet rings on both hands. The watch he wore was a Schnee Classic. Even his umbrella looked high class.

"Leave your wallet here old man," one thug asserted, mimicking a knife thrust. "and no one'll be hurt."

"Leave the watch too. It'll look better on someone like me." The other sneered, crossing his arms, bringing several profane tattoos into full view.

Let it be known that the thugs certainty looked dangerous. Knives, tattoos, biker jackets and muscles on display for the world to see.

Jaune watched as the man complied. It seemed that no one noticed that he showed up. What do I do? Run and call for help? No. Police won't make it on time. Where the hell's a Huntsman when you need him?

"You know what? That coat looks real good. Take it off. Mine now."

As Jaune fretted over his decision, the man removed his coat. His eyes spotted Jaune and shot him a pleading look.

If you could say one thing about an Arc, it was that they were people of honour. They would never turn away someone who needed aid. Jaune was an Arc.

Oh God damn it!

The bystander decided to act. Jaune drew the Crocea Mors and shifted the sheath into a shield. Like the knights of old, he charged forth.

Taken by surprise, the crooks stood unprepared. Jaune couldn't swing a sword to save his life, but these crooks were not Huntsman.

Momentum was Jaune's new best friend. The force behind his shield bash threw thug number one into the pond. Crook number two threw a right hook. Jaune diverted it with his shield and once more shoved his shield at his opponent. Thug number two joined his friend in the pond.

I love my shield.

Jaune picked up the old man's wallet and threw it back to him.

"Thank yo-"

"Come on, let's move!" the vigilante urged. "They're recovering quickly."

Jaune grasped the man's wrist and pulled him into a running start. Jaune knew surprise was the only reason he'd managed to delay them and he wasn't willing to use his sword to kill or maim. They'd have to run before the thugs recouped.

"My home's just past the park. Parents are huntsmen. We'll be save th-"

The sound of gunfire shattered the silence of the park and hushed Jaune's voice. Panic was dominant. Jaune turned his head back only to see another thug. But this one had a gun. The other two were already out of the pond and rushing towards them.

This is bad. Really bad. Think Jaune. Think! Damn it.

"Old man, run straight through the park. Look for a huge house with a red roof. Tell them Jaune sent you. Explain what happened. I'll hold these guys off."

The thugs were fast approaching. Jaune stopped running. He turned around and readied his sword and shield. He wouldn't go down without a fight. Contrary to Jaune's plan, the old man stopped running as well. Instead, he turned and smiled at Jaune. His eyes shone with mirth.

"Thank you, young Arc. But there is no need to call for help," The man said in a deep, smooth tone.

As the thug shot another round out of his pistol, the man unfurled his umbrella. The bullet rebounded off the parasol, ricocheting into an oak tree.

"I'm more than enough for these ruffians."

Rather overwhelmed by the turn of events, Jaune overlooked the fact he knew his family's name.

"…Are you a Huntsman?" Jaune asked, panic deflating.

"No," The man said. Inciting fear back into Jaune. "I'm a Kingsman."

"What?"

The thugs had caught up with them.

"Allow me to demonstrate."

The man pressed a button on his umbrella, furling it up. He hooked it onto his left arm. The signet ring on his right hand glowed an electrifying blue.

"We are masters of all forms of dust usage, whether as ammunition or to augment our own strength."

The thug looked as if he were guided into the man's right fist. Jaune thought he heard the thug's jaw break. He confirmed it was broken as soon as a tooth was knocked out of the man's mouth.

"We are experts in all forms of combat. Everything from close-quarters combat,"

The Kingsman unhooked his umbrella and aimed its tip at the gun-wielding thug. Click. The thug was disarmed.

"To longer ranged weapons."

Click. Click.

The Kingsman gave new meaning to 'one shot one kill'. Not one crook was left standing. All of them were unconscious, draped across the floor.

"We are more formidable than even the most experienced Huntsman. More influential than the Schnee Dust Company."

The police arrived and without asking questions, quickly handcuffed the thugs and carried them off. One even saluted before walking off.

Jaune's jaws dropped low enough to discover an ancient relic. The old man crushed them. Annihilated them. Sure, they weren't Huntsman, but they were experienced thugs. Taken down within seconds, without breaking a sweat.

Jaune also found it hard to believe there was a secret society of people even more powerful than the SDC. The fact that the police didn't even stop to question them spoke volumes about how influential they must be.

Wait, wait, wait. Let's recheck the facts here. Old man capable of channelling dust into his body and disarming and disabling three criminals within seconds. Check. Incredibly powerful secret society of men with influence over Vale's police. Check. Am I dreaming? Wait. That means I might not have taken the Signal entry test yet!

Jaune pinched himself. Damn it. Not dreaming. Wait. Didn't he call me 'young Arc' earlier?! Was he stalking me?!

"Wait, wait. Hold on." Jaune appealed the man to slow down, hands moving in a placating gesture.

"This is all very fascinating, but how'd you know I was an Arc? And if what you've said was true, why didn't you just beat them up in the first place. In fact, why tell me all of this?" Jaune questioned, slightly flustered.

The man simply took a deep breath, and spoke in a slightly forlorn and proud tone.

"Your grandfather was a Kingsman. One of the very finest and he was my mentor. The Crocea Mors you wield were once his."

Jaune's jaws dropped once more.

"It was a test, Jaune. To test you. To see if you'd live up to your grandfather's legacy."

He looked into Jaune's eyes.

"You have shown yourself to be a man of character, and passed my test. I have told you all of this because I want to offer you the chance Signal did not. You may not be a Huntsman, but a Kingsman could take on even a team of them, and still have time for tea."

This time Jaune's jaw didn't drop. Instead, he stood there gaping at the man. Mouth opening and closing with just enough room for a fly to enter.

The man slipped his hand into his breast pocket and took out a business card.

"My name is Harry Hart. Should you choose to accept, look for the Kingsman Tailors, hand the attendant this card and ask for me. I'll be waiting."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Jaune would choose to do.

Canon will start next chapter. How will Jaune's first meetings differ? Want to know the first line of the next chapter?

It was love at first sight.

So…Are you enjoying the story thus far? What are your thoughts on it? Do you like the writing style? Is it a bit confusing? Feel free to leave a review to tell me your thoughts, share ideas or offer criticism.

A Silver Dolphin,

Signing out.