Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue, nor do I own RWBY.
Chapter 2
"Aww, yeah. Beacon Academy," a teen smiled widely at the fine work of art of an academy as he departed from the train. Over his shoulder, he held a silver suitcase bigger than his torso, presumably his weapon of choice, and to complete that image, he is wearing a flamboyantly pink trench coat over a white dress shirt and black vest and tie, along with nondescript jeans and loafers. Medium-length blond tresses flowed down and graced his features, drawing admiring and jealous looks from both boys and girls alike.
It helps that he has such androgynous features that he can easily pass as a girl if he so wished to. Throw in the indecipherable signs of his heterosexuality, and no one can tell if he's really a boy or a girl.
"I've been tossing and training all my life just for this moment. My body is ready."
"Ooh! OOH! Look, sis!" His attention got drawn away to an excitable, and adorable, red and black short-haired girl. Her clothes are simply fabulous. Red and black are great colors that go well each other, and she follows that flow with the black clothes accented with red, and a red cape that is fluttering in a nonexistent wind. Her skin is a flawless pale white and the eyes are an interesting silver. Overall, she can still make some improvements, like say- "That kid has a collapsible staff! Oh, and over there! She has a fire sword! How does it work? I need to know the exact mechanism that make the fire come out- ow, ow, Ooww!"
…Maybe he'll tell her himself.
And the blonde… the… the…
"What are you doing?" he half-screeched with displeasure, surprising the two girls. "What, what! What, are you doing?!"
Simply outrageous! The galls of this blonde right here! What is this, the 21st century?! Who wears those kinds of clothes nowadays?! If she had worn a cowgirl hat to go with her attire at the moment, then fine, he wouldn't have cared, maybe even compliment her. But this? Sorry, but this honorary fashion police will not have any of this!
"Um, pulling my sister's hood?" the blonde answered with a question with confusion.
"No no no! I mean, what on earth are you wearing?!" he made his outrage clearer by pointing an accusatory finger at her clothes. "Brown leather? Orange scarf? Yellow corset?! And the shoulder paddings!? Girl, you are offending the color spectrum with those clothes! Now, you're getting out of them or getting a cowgirl hat this instant, or my name is not Franklin D. Donut!"
In a normal circumstance, dissing a girl who has gauntlets that double as dual shotguns about her fashion sense spells the recipe for disaster. Dissing a girl who is wearing Dual Range Shotgun Gauntlets who has a very fiery temper to boot spells a calamity. As in, on the color-spectrum-destroying level.
Unfortunately, this is not a normal circumstance.
"Are you trying to start something here, pinky girl?" The bracelets on her wrists shifted into gauntlets, signifying that Donut should quickly explain himself lest he faces 'shotgun to the face'. He did not get that exact memo.
"Ohoho, I'm starting something, alright," he prepared his suitcase, ignoring the way the other girl's attention zoned onto his large attaché case. "Just because your hair is so well-kept doesn't excuse your poor fashion sense! The moment the Headmaster finishes his opening speech, we need to have a serious discussion about your choice of clothes!" Donut huffed and addressed one final thing in an indignant tone, "And for your information, hun, it's lightish-red and I'm a guy."
The blonde had looked increasingly angry, and then suddenly it changed as though she was reevaluating her first impression. She squinted at him as though confirming that he is indeed male.
"Oh my God."
Then that expression changed into excitement.
"Oh, my, God! You're that sassy gay friend type of person that I saw on TV, and always dreamed of having!" she proclaimed giddily, and held his hands with a giggle. Donut took that as an affirmative to his previous statement and nodded cheerily. "I'm Yang, and- hey, Ruby! Come over here and introduce yourself, will you?"
"E-eh?! But his suitcase! I was looking at his suitcase!" the little girl protested weakly, 'weakly' because she was being pulled from her hood by Yang again. "U-um, hi there. I'm Ruby."
"You look absolutely splendid in that dress," Donut complimented her. She flushed slightly at his statement. "Maybe if you wore heels, it can improve the overall aesthetic. Combat boots are nice and all, but it doesn't exactly compliment the overall theme your clothes have. Ooh, ooh! There's a shop in Vale that has the exact heels I think will go just fine!"
Ruby managed to suppress a horrified expression. The thought of even wearing those lady stilts is tantamount to being deprived of any sugar-laced snacks and drinks. Worse part is, Yang looked like she agreed with his thoughts.
"So you wanna hang out with us? We always have room for one more," Yang offered cheerily, who suddenly has a group of friends behind her. "We seriously need to know more about each other! Like say, what kind of name is 'Donut'?" she snickered at the last part.
"Huh?! Wait sis-"
"Sure! We can try on new clothes, and paint our nails, and talk about cute boys and girls in frills and Chantilly laces!" Donut accepted the offer and sped off with Yang and her clique, leaving Ruby behind to the dust. "Wait, but what about your sister?"
"Eh, she'll be fine. She really needs to learn how to make friends on her own," Yang dismissed his concern for the red-themed girl. "But back onto the subject about clothes. If orange, yellow, and brown aren't good on me, then pink isn't a good color on you, bub."
"It's not pink! It's lightish-red!"
He didn't even bother denying the 'sassy gay friend' part at the beginning.
(meanwhile)
"Grif! Simmons! Front and center on the double!" A burly voice yelled out in a commanding tone, causing Simmons to surge fully awake. Grif, on the other hand, simply flinched before attempting to go back to sleep. 'Attempting', because Simmons kicked his languid ass out of the bed.
"Urgh, I thought he wouldn't call us if I just went back to sleep," Grif groaned in drowsy pain.
"Yeah, well. Nice plan, jackass. He's calling us anyways," Simmons said.
"Hustle up, idiots!"
The two quickly dressed themselves into the clothes they were wearing yesterday and gathered onto Beacon's campus, where the voice originated. Once there, Simmons stood straight and attentively, while Grif slouched and picked at his ears, which he then blew in the general direction of his C.O.
He is a burly man well into his middle age with a fair complexion, with gray hair in a military cut and eyes that seem to always squint and a body so ripped that it could compete in a Mr. Universe competition, whatever that is. Slung onto his back is a shotgun, or more accurately, an M90 CAWS, along with a bandolier composed of Soellkraft 8-Gauge Shells over a tight red t-shirt, camo pants, and combat boots.
"What is it, Sarge?" Simmons was the first to ask.
Sarge began to march back and forth in front of his men, a tick mark growing on his forehead with each passing second, "Men, it has come to my attention that there is some sort of dissension among our group. We need to discuss this issue before anything else can proceed as planned. As you may know, last night, there has been some kind of 'miscommunication' that was supposed to be addressed!"
Grif groaned, "There is no 'dissension', Sarge. When we arrived last night, you were already dead asleep on your ass in our quarters. We stayed awake for like, two minutes before we decided 'fuck it' and went to sleep."
"Damn it, Grif!" the oldest man cursed and marched threateningly up to the lazyass, who didn't even flinch at the violent approach, "That attitude is exactly what is ruining the impression I can have on the upcoming students of Beacon! We need to think of our group as a whole!"
"Yeah. That's why Ironwood and Ozpin let you teach here. So you can bore us all to death," Grif retorted sarcastically, making his sergeant grunt in thought.
"Simmons, I want you to slit Grif's throat when he goes to sleep," he ordered his trusted underling instead.
"Consider it done, sir!" Simmons immediately replied, causing Grif to stare at him blankly.
"You are such a kissass, did you know that, Simmons?"
"Well, at least I'm not the one with a slit throat tonight, cockbite."
"Now listen up, ladies! Today is the first day. I want you two to behave! We all have to establish our credibility as the glorious Red Army! Not like those pesky, dirty Blues..." he spoke the last three words with utter disdain. A far cry from how he addressed them ages ago. "Oh, and show Lopez the way around this place, will ya?"
A figure stepped into view from behind Grif and Simmons. Unlike the others, Lopez is clad in full metallic-brown body armor, from head to toe without any skin being revealed. From the rigidity of his posture, one would think that he is a robot at first glance. That is because he's actually not human, but an Atlesian Knight. Model number to be determined, as it is actually a prototype of an upcoming series.
"Hey, Sarge. When did you bring Lopez? Actually, when did he even get here? I didn't see him anywhere with us when we were escaping Atlas from the police and huntsmen," Grif asked curiously.
[Tú me dejaste atrás en Atlas, idiota. / You left me behind in Atlas, idiot.] Lopez intoned in a robotic voice.
"Damn right you are, Lopez! Grif is one fat, ugly excuse of a soldier!" Sarge completely mistranslated the armor-clad being.
[Dios mío, te odio demasiado. / My God, I hate you so much.] Lopez expressed his utter, severe dislike for the sergeant, unable to use another tone besides a robotic one, and walked off ahead.
Sarge chuckled in good humor, despite not understanding what his robot just said, "Good one, amigo."
"You would think that we manage to get our hand on a speech unit that's Remnantian, but noooo, we just had to use one that fell from the fuckin' sky! What language is he speaking, for God's sake?!" Grif all but screamed out towards the sky.
Simmons sighed and took a glance around the campus they had stood around for the past few minutes. All the passengers on the plane were leaving to where the opening speech would be occurring. He caught some people staring at them, but otherwise, it was rescinded once he made eye contact with them.
Then something caught his attention.
"Hey, are those the Blues?"
(minutes earlier)
"Beacon Academy…" Church intoned as he studied the school from Main Avenue. Now out of his comfort clothes, he has changed out of his pajama pants into faded black jeans, with a worn-out leather jacket over his tank top. "How riveting, how majest- oh, who am I kidding with words, this place looks awesome!"
"Beacon! Academy!" Caboose screamed out in utter joy, besides a groaning Tucker who was massaging his head. "This! Is the best day! Ever! Of all times!"
"Whoa-ho-ho, calm down there, Caboose. This is just the front. You'll see more tomorrow, I'm sure," Church calmed down the boisterous blond much like one would with a child. "Well, that was the smoothest ride I've rode for a while now."
"Easy for you to say. I had to put up with Caboose saying 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet?' over and over while you were dead asleep on your ass the moment we got onboard!" Tucker groused, his fingers twitching towards the alien handle, hoping that he can shank Caboose for just one second and get away with it.
"Are we there-?"
"YES! CABOOSE! We are here!"
"YEEEES~!" the childish blond cried in jubilation, earning various stares from the arriving, upcoming students of Beacon Academy. Some were annoyed (having sat and stand beside him the whole ride), others were indifferent, but most were amused.
"*sigh* The last thing we need is another Caboose. What I would give to not have that happen," Church muttered. Nearby, an orange-haired girl sneezed, stopping her rant midway about how awesome Beacon Academy is and causing her to look hyperactively around for the cause. The Eastern-clothed boy besides her sighed at her antic. "…And I got the distinct feeling that I just jinxed myself. Fuck."
"Eh, you jinx yourself every other day, so I'm prepared for what's coming our way," Tucker shrugged and fixed his clothes. "So this is Beacon, huh? At least it looks better than our box canyon back in Gulch. Plus, look at all the chicks! All of them are a 9 out of 10 or higher!"
"Ah, Tucker. It's always gonna be the chicks, huh?"
"Hey, you have Tex! Go fawn over your girlfriend!"
"Haha, at least I have a girlfriend, Tucker. You, however, don't," Church retorted easily.
"Yeah, but that's only because I want to get L-A-I-D, not be in a relationship," Tucker shot back.
"Relationship… the ship that all players fear," Caboose remarked on the side.
"Shut up, Caboose," Church said dryly, "and are you seriously forgetting about Junior?"
"Hey, Junior is a total exception! How was I supposed to know that some alien thing infected me with a parasitic embryo?!" Tucker groaned at the memory he brought upon himself. "Plus, it's been a couple months and we are a thing. He is awesome."
"Right. And Caboose here is secretly a Faunus," Church sarcastically remarked, in which a nearby black-haired girl with a ridiculously big bow on her head turned to listen to what the two were talking about. "His dog ears are just so deep in that jungle he calls hair that we can't tell at first glance. Come to think about it, he always seems happy whenever we call for him. You think he's actually one?"
"Dude, I am not gonna groom him, if that's what you're saying. I already agreed to changing his diapers every Wednesday and weekends, but nothing else."
"Damn it," Church cursed, his secret plan foiled. Still, it is a valid point that he'll have to confirm later tonight.
"Oh, hey look Church. It's the Reds!" the black teen spoke up, pointing at aforementioned Reds. "Man, it's been ages since we've seen them. When was it, back in Atlas?"
"Hey, dipshits! How you doing!" Church called out.
"Whu- hey! What do you want, you dirty Blues?!" True enough, it's Sarge who replied.
"Good to see you too, Sarge!" Church greeted the man cheerily, making him grunt in restrained annoyance. His teal-shirted friend walked over to one of the Reds.
"S'up, Grif?"
"Hey, Tucker," Grif greeted him cordially. "How've you been?"
"Eh, it's been alright. Still searching for those holes in my life to fill, bow-chicka-bow-wow," he quickly whispered the last part, "And you, Simmons?"
"Let's just say that Sarge is still a hardass and I feel that we'll have to attack each other soon," Simmons shrugged and turned to look at Church and Sarge glaring at each other.
"Come on, be a pal, Sarge! It's been ages! Why, I don't think we've seen each other since you left us for dead to the fuckin' po-po!" Church continued his cheerful charade, which served to piss Sarge more. A plus in Grif's book any time, any day.
"You expect us to rescue you after you destroyed an entire shipment of Dust from the SDC by accident, and give the finger to a platoon of Atlesian soldiers and trained huntsmen and huntresses?!"
"That was the best light show ever," Caboose threw in his two cents.
"Hey, you guys almost killed that head boss dude from that Dust corporation. Don't think we didn't fuck things up alone!" Church threw away his façade and displayed anger. "Tex had the hand in most of it! And let's not forget what Grif almost did!"
"Meh. It was cool while it lasted," Said person did not give a fuck. He had met the quota for the day.
"Well, I think there's only one way to settle this then," Sarge took out his shotgun.
「Threat level increased. Deadly forces authorized.」the gun on Caboose's back intoned, causing him to draw it out, too.
"Reds and Blues will never coexist. We'll never get together and be…" the former sergeant's voice cracked with emotions, "A little… purple."
"My God, yes we can! I thought we already talked about this!" Church groaned angrily. "Seriously, why the fuck are we even arguing?! We all make mistakes, and ours was just one that was a big fuckup!"
"No. Not ours. Yours," Sarge raised the shotgun at Church's face, who had already pulled out his sniper rifle and pointed back.
"Tucker. Get over here. I need your help."
"Dude, what do you want me to do? I'm a lover, not a quarreler!"
"Just get over here!"
"Fine!" Tucker pulled out the handle and prepared for the worst.
The two teams faced each other, weapons out and directed towards each other in a standoff. Arriving students stopped and watched, curious as to what was happening and expecting a great show from this impromptu incident. Beacon Academy is, by all means, a combat school, which basically teaches its students how to fight, which is to its core violent. And while violence is not always the solution, it is still, and always will be, an answer. Which is what the two teams are resorting to right now.
In the distance, a certain red-themed girl was sniffling from the amount of Dust being thrown around her face.
"Now what do you have to say for yourself?!" a white-haired girl yelled at her, who looked like she is about to sneeze. Which she did, and that triggered a massive explosion. And Sarge misinterpreted that explosion.
"They have explosives! ATTAAAAAACK!" Sarge and the 'Red Team' charged head on towards the 'Blue Team', and understandably, they panicked.
(meanwhile)
"Ah… such a peaceful day," a teen sighed out contentedly. Dressed in a purple dress shirt with a doctor's lab coat over it, he stared outside the window in tranquil calm from the hospital building stationed in Beacon Academy. His brown hair is styled into a crop cut, and a stethoscope hung around his neck to make him look like a legitimate doctor.
"You know, some would think that such signs really mean that we'll soon have 'visitors', Doc," his mentor chirped as she entered the room. She wore the same attire as him, sans the dress shirt and replaced with a modest purple blouse. She also wore glasses with purple trims, and her hair is tied into a loose ponytail.
"True, but I would just love to have a moment to myself, Dr. Grey," Doc murmured.
"Just call me Emily, will you? I didn't accept your request for an internship just so you would be all formal, you know?" she requested for the umpteenth time. "All the time, colleagues and students calling me Doctor, Dr. Grey, Miss Grey, it gets boring after a while."
He pondered that for a moment. "Nah, I think I'll keep calling you Dr. Grey. It really suits you," Doc smiled honestly, which made his mentor huff in displeasure and possibly attraction.
"Keep saying that, Doc. I'll make you call me by my name someday," Dr. Grey replied in an airy tone and returned to her paperwork.
Speaking of which, why does she keep calling him Doc? The professors, the students, even the occasional guests that come by, all of them call him Doc instead of his name, Frank DuFresne. He doesn't even have a PhD! Is his name really that hard to remember? It's only a total of three syllables, for Pete's sake!
He lets out a sigh. Welp, it's not like this day can get any worse. Today is good, and will be a peaceful day-
*BOOM!*
…Aaaaand it's gone.
Why did he even bother saying those forbidden words?
"Well! That's certainly something that'll keep us occupied," Dr. Grey remarked cheerily at her desk, happy that there will be patients so soon.
"Haaah… I'll go get the aloe vera," he looked at his mentor, who had an expectant look. "And the thermometer, bandages, and syringes. And the surgical tools. Especially the drill and chainsaws."
"Happy to know you're learning so well, Doc!"
(hours later)
In a dark room with only a single source of light shining dimly in the middle, a table is set to be directly under the light. Along that table, five figures and one robot sat by it, each with a neutrally grim expression. Finally, one of them broke the silence with a stressed groan.
"So remind me, Simmons. Why are we here again?" Grif asked.
"It's because Sarge saw those idiots over there and lost his shit," Simmons gestured towards the group on the opposite side of the table, "and we got dragged in because of it."
"Hey, we didn't ask him to go nuts, alright, assholes?" Church grunted angrily. "It's because he's so fucking institutionalized he can't even tell the difference between the real enemies and a couple of guys in blue. Hell, even some of the arriving students got shot at by him!"
"It was going so well, too. Man, I hate Beacon already," Tucker lamented. "It's one thing to cause trouble on the first day of school. I don't know if turning the courtyard into a battlefield counts as one."
"I still haven't gotten my cookies, yet," Caboose chirped in a rather upbeat voice. Church and Tucker groaned in sync.
"Silence," a sharp voice interrupted the bickering, causing them to immediately shut up. From the only door in the room, a woman strode in with a riding crop in hand. With blonde hair tied into a bun with a curl hanging down a side of her face and bright green eyes glaring through thin ovular glasses, she strikes as a stern authority figure who would not tolerate to put down any forms of mischief.
"So. What do you have to say about yourselves?" the woman questioned the six. "Destroying campus properties, engaging in active and reckless behavior, wounding six out of ten first-year students, and turning Main Avenue into a warzone, all of these only minutes after arriving? You are lucky that no one died, but I refuse to accept anyone into this school who do not care for their fellow students' well-being."
"It was totally Sarge's fault! That madman has nothing to do with us!" Grif immediately defended himself.
"You take that back! Sarge is a great man! He's just a little misguided!" Simmons defended his commanding officer without hesitation, in which Grif made a remark about him 'being a kissass until the end'.
"They fired at us, so we fired back! It's called the laws of physics. You ever heard of it, stupid bitch?" Church replied rudely and hotheadedly, clearly unafraid of the consequences of cursing like a sailor to a clearly experienced Huntress. It helps that he has a girlfriend that knows how to kick his ass to last Tuesday without even paying attention to him.
"Um, I need to go to the bathroom," Caboose not-answered and whispered, "Number two."
The librarian-esque woman finally turned her attention to Tucker, who shrugged. "Eh, I needed to let off some steam, so I pulled out my sword to swish swoosh stab. I can pull it out for you to admire. Bow chicka bow wow!"
[Yo estaba explorando fuera del campus. ¿Qué carajo me he perdido? / I was off exploring the campus. What the fuck did I miss?] the only robot sitting at the table spoke up.
It had not even been a full minute into this interrogation-esque scene, and Glynda Goodwitch already felt a very strong urge to slap her forehead in utter frustration.
A/N: Google Translate all the way for Lopez.
-DarkAkatsuk1