6/12/2018
CoI here with a heartfelt apology. I more or less pushed this fic to the side after starting it, as I had little to no direction with the story. After attending a summer college course in writing, I found myself less and less motivated to write something as fun and comedic as a crossover between Red Vs. Blue. For those of you who saw my other fic, Magical Antithesis, my writing has begun to explore darker and more controversial themes of modern society. Right now, I'm on a service trip in a poor rural area, and I wanted to write something happier and more enjoyable to pick myself up. I finished the second chapter of Magical Antithesis and checked the comments of We Could've Been, and saw a lot of people asking for this to come back. So, it's back. There may be future pauses in updates due to the fact that I didn't plan out the plot and will have my work cut out for me if I want to marry this fic's comedy and high spirits with the emotional trainwreck that was Volume 3 and beyond. So yeah, I'm working on the next chapter right now.
I encourage you all to check out my other fic, Magical Antithesis, it's a Harry Potter X Fairy Tail crossover, except it carries a very different tone than either of the source materials.
Also, each chapter for MA is about 6,000 words while each chapter of WCB is between 1,000 to 2,000. Do you guys want me to start writing longer chapters? Thank you all for your patience!
I decided to edit this chapter a little.
The two redheads stared at each other in mute silence. It grew and grew, suffocating everyone enclosed in the invisible bubble that was the twenty foot circle around the group. It grew until you could cut it with a knife. Then, with the subtlety of a monster truck in a china shop, it was broken.
"What's with your clothing!?" both females yelled.
"You're wearing so much armor! How do you even move!?" asked Pyrrha incredulously.
"And you're wearing so little! It's indecent!" exclaimed Carolina.
"You take some off!" shouted the Mistralian Champion.
"You put some on!" yelled the Freelancer.
Tucker leaned over to Wash and whispered, "Personally I think the less-scary one is right."
"I heard that Tucker!"
The two redheads panted slightly, both confused and irrationally angry.
Pyrrha was the first to recover.
"I'm sorry. I...I didn't know how to react. My behavior was over-the-top and unnecessary."
The group was startled by the abrupt change in personality and recovery in poise and grace. The redhead's words carried the perfect amounts of embarassment, apology, and humility; no one in the group could bring themselves to react harshly or continue the previous exchange. Even Tucker was embarassed, if only for a moment before his thoughts turned towards the lewd. Carolina herself had rarely apologized, and when she had, it had always been reluctant and with the hint of a challenge, as if daring them to mock her. Now a look-alike girl had a much softer attitude, and Tucker felt as if he enjoyed the "shift" in power.
Naturally, he said something stupid.
"Dude, do you think she's into, y'know, that kind of stuff?"
"Shut up Tucker."
"I bet she good with a spear, if you know what I mean."
"Tucker. Stop."
"Dude, I-"
Pyrrha cringed at the pervert's comments. Objectification disgusted her, just as discrimination did. It just didn't make sense, how people could dehumanize others the way they did. A loud noise and a choked off scream made her head snap up as she saw her clone viciously punish the teal-armored man for his error.
Carolina accepted the other girl's apology with stunned silence. A simple apology would have done the trick. It was as if this girl felt as if she needed to prove her fault to everyone, as if she needed to take all of the blame. She wondered what she should say to reply to her "twin"'s apology. As she deliberated, she noticed the other girl's head was bowed and her eyes were downcast. Thanks to her audio enhancers in her helmet, as well as the fact that he was only a few feet away, she heard all of Tucker's pervy comments. As the comments continued, she noticed what few others did. The other redhead didn't react visibly, at least not to anyone who wasn't paying close attention. Carolina saw the subtle tightening of the tendons in the girl's neck, and the way her head dropped imperceptibly lower. Rather than seeing rage or fury in her eyes, she merely noticed and increased amount of sadness and loneliness. Sadness and loneliness that reminded her of herself. However, the two had very different ways of coping with their problems, as the Freelancer reacted the only way she knew, by getting rid of the problem. Namely, Tucker.
For the second time in that week, she beat the crap out of him. Her foot flashed upwards
in the span of a heartbeat, mercilessly burying itself in Tucker's crotch. Tucker let out a very unmanly squeal and dropped to his knees.
"She...she kicked my in the nuts. She just...kicked...she just…."
Pyrrha looked at the crumbled set of armor that seemed to be letting out almost in-humanly high-pitched squeaks. The sounds it made shouldn't have been able to be porduced by a homosapien; she couldn't understand what it was saying at all. What she did understand was that this clone of hers was rather unforgiving, especially when it came to catcalls. On occasion, and by complete accident, she'd struck her opponents in the groin and had first hand seen the effects of what such strike did to its victims. Especially the males. She'd never gone full-force or tried to strike at that area, as she found it unsportsmanlike and rather disgusting, but her clone didn't seem to have any qualms about delivering such harsh reprimations. Then again, the other woman was wearing thick armor. Pyrrha instinctively got up and helped, her kind nature immediately forgiving the pervert for his previous crimes. He'd suffered, hadn't he? He needed help, didn't he? He'd learned his lesson, hadn't he?
Carolina was surprised as her doppelganger got up and tried to comfort the pervert. The spartan-esque warrior spoke softly and asked Tucker if he was alright, to which he stupidly responded.
"I think I've died and gone to heaven. Because why else would I have a beautiful angel in front of me."
Taken aback by Tucker's statement and the sheer tenacity of his perverted side, Pyrrha leaned away and almost fell over. Her face flushed as she tried to form an articulate response.
This time it was Wash who intervened, thankfully for Tucker.
Pyrrha froze as she heard the tell-tale sound of a pistol slide being racked. Turning her head, she saw the grey-and-yellow armored figure holding a very bulky and very dangerous-looking pistol against the head of the pitiful mess that was Tucker (the undamaged head, mind you).
In a voice that was undeniably dripping with lethality and liquid murder, the figure spoke. "If you want to die, then I'm sure I can arrange that."
Out of nowhere, a bright red armored figure jumped in. Brandishing a dangerous-looking...wait, was that a shotgun? Pyrrha had never seen a firearm that menacing. Most weapons used by Huntsmen and Huntresses combined utility with form, especially Mistralian warriors, who blended nature with their homes. This weapon wasn't meant to be unique or please the eyes of those who saw it; it had one purpose, and that was to deliver bright and explosive death to those unfortunate enough to get in range. It could probably disintegrate the head of an Ursa with a single shot. It might even be able to punch a hole into the armor of Deathstalkers as well.
"What're we doing? Killing Tucker? I'm in! Dirty blue deserves it."
After hearing the twangy and gruff voice, Pyrrha thought back to last night, when she had noticed the variation in the colors the strange people's armor. There was split in the color scheme, although the most menacing two were blue and grey, unbalancing the apparent teams. There were also the two purple ones, who seemed more neutral.
"Hey Missy."
Pyrrha blinked and looked up, only to see her reflection in a golden visor with a hexagonal pattern etched into it. Unsure of what the figure wanted, she hesitantly replied.
"Yes?"
"I see you're on board for Red Team! Nice going. Put 'er there."
Confused as to what this drill-sergeant was talking about, she noticed his outstretched arm and realized it wanted a fist bump. So she obliged. Afterwards, the drill-sergeant turned his attention back to the crippled pervert while the others either laughed at his misfortune or stood off to the side. Though she was hesitant to become the center of attention for this strange group of people again, she really needed answers.
"Um. Excuse me?"
As one, every visor in the area turned to look at her. It was like staring down a group of cyclops, only they were equipped with dangerous firearms.
"Could-could someone please explain what is going on?" Pyrrha asked.
"We could try, but it'd probably take at least fourteen seasons of online videos to do that." said Wash.
"That sounds…..rather specific."
Then, everyone assembled jumped as a loud, microphone-enhanced voice reminded everyone to go prepare for the initiation.
"Oh! Sorry. I have to go now." Pyrrha hurriedly stated, "Before I go, what's your name again? I'd like to talk later."
Carolina looked at the other girl. It felt odd telling a copy of herself who she was, but she obliged.
"Call me Carolina."
Pyrrha turned to leave, but was stopped by the teal armored female. Slightly unnerved at the armored forearm that blocked her path, she paused.
"Yes? What do you want Carolina?"
The narrow slit visor gazed blankly at her, while the helmet tilted to the right slightly, like an inquisitive dog. It was rather amusing, if you didn't know she was one of the most lethal soldiers in the UNSC, barring the Spartan Corps.
"Sorry, I don't remember your name. Could you remind me?"
"Oh. My name is Pyrrha Nikos. You can just call me Pyrrha."
"Thanks. Where do we talk later?"
"We have a meeting after the initiation. We can meet there and organize a meeting."
The two redheads left, only to realize they were heading to the same place. Pyrrha gave the armored suit and incredulous look, only to remember that she couldn't read the emotions of a combat helmet.
Wash, Tucker, Sarge, and Donut watched the two number ones go. Their group stood still, mostly recovering from the shock of this strange meeting.
"I think we've just witnessed history." said Sarge.
"No kidding." said Wash, "One Carolina is scary enough."
"I think the new one's hotter."
"Yeah. I like the Greek-Amazoness look that she has. But it's not like she's a clone of Carolina, right? I mean, she can't be as good at fighting, and she isn't as mean." said Donut.
"This new girl is a lot nicer, maybe she'll let me cop a feel,"
Wash face-palmed. Right, in his dreams.
"And there's no way someone that hot is a fighter. I mean, she's got the perfect body, lean and toned. You see her arms? They're lean, but not muscled like Carolina's."
Wash sighed. Tucker never learned, did he? Then again, if he had to capacity to increase his knowledge base, he probably wouldn't have been thrown into Blood Gulch.
"She's gonna be tough to take down, you can bet on that." said Sarge.
"Why?" asked Tucker.
"Cuz she's red. That's why."
For a moment, Wash almost had hope for Sarge. For a very fleeting moment, Agent Washington almost had hope for Sarge. Then he remembered. Sarge is Sarge. There was no hope for these idiots. That was a fundamental rule of the universe, as concrete and permanent as the basic laws of physics.
"Guys, let's go."
The four made their way to the lockers. As they walked, Wash had to add his two cents.
"Sarge is right. That girl is going to be a handful."
"Bow-chicka-bow-wow!"
"Tucker, shut up. Anyway, I know a good fighter when I see one, and honestly, she just screams skill. Besides, I really can't see someone with Carolina's face sucking."
"Bow-chicka-bow-wow!"
"Damn it Tucker! Some girl at this school is going to kill you for that."
Weiss Schnee, Yang Xiao Long, and literally every other female sneezed.
"Pfft. Right, all the ladies love me."
Oh, poor Tucker was in for a rough time.