Prelude for Losers?: Doyle and Kimball
Find out what happened before the events of When We Were Soldiers in the Prelude for Losers? specials!
In this prequel collection, you'll find connected character-specific introspective one shots that delve into the backstories of our favorite mismatched group of soldiers before they arrived in Chorus.
The seventh story is both Donald Doyle's and Vanessa Kimball's.
Main Pairing(s): Kimball x Doyle, Grimmons, Jensen x Palomo
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
Prelude for Losers?— Doyle and Kimball:
If ever asked about his life in general, Donald Doyle would probably be the first person to adamantly declare that he had one of the least interesting or altogether tragic tales of any person who had been born into a seemingly endless and very much pointless war.
The white with gold trim wearing armored man with dusty blond hair had been born in the region of Chorus, in the very city that bore said region's name. The most adventure and travel he had ever done thus far in his life had simply been a few tours of the wastelands around Chorus whenever it had been deemed relatively safe enough for organized groups to venture forth and scavenge for always desperately needed supplies. He lived vicariously through the tales of more seasoned and well-traveled citizens, and could only picture other areas of their war-torn world thanks to shaky, often spotty vid-feeds and hastily taken photographs.
Although his adventurous, inquisitive side sometimes yearned for more, Doyle buried his desire down with the ever-present reminders of violence and death that permeated even the protective walls of Chorus. After all, the city itself was far from free of the incessant fighting that plagued the planet proper.
Besides, it wasn't as if he was all that well-versed in surviving large-scale battles and traversing through hostile terrain. The last thing he wanted to do was wander off into his own bloody demise. No, Doyle knew he didn't, would truly never, have the stomach for something like that.
He came from a long line of men and women who had assisted the great leaders of Chorus. The leaders that had somehow managed to keep the region afloat and somewhat self-sufficient amidst the engulfing chaos of outside forces. That was the role Doyle was most suited for, and it was the one he had spent his entire life preparing for.
But his family, often as tragically short-lived as so many families were during this time period, had failed to explain just how insidiously ugly and horrific war was. Perhaps they had simply assumed he would find out on his own, as he ultimately did. Training and preparation could really only take one so far.
He had been in no way prepared to witness the devastation firsthand. Who could be, he mused often to himself. He never could fully cope with always losing his superiors, his subordinates, his friends and his family whenever the fighting reached the walls of Chorus.
Doyle could never, ever shake the all-consuming terror that threatened to utterly devour him as he repeatedly watched destruction and death overwhelm the home he loved so very much.
He tried to learn to adapt in order to best stay afloat. He remained polite and cordial, always seeking to make new friends and acquaintances despite the gaping loss of previous ones. He focused on defense and rebuilding to try to take his mind off of the pain.
Taking as much comfort as he could in the little things helped Doyle navigate through the hurdles, it kept him going even when he so desperately wanted to curl in on himself and just stop.
"Little things" such as when his latest superior announced his upcoming marriage to a long-legged brunette. She had only recently moved to Chorus and was already dreaming of one day opening some kind of establishment there. Remembering the smiles and rather hopeful looks on the faces of all those around him, weary but desperate for a chance to see something positive once more, he couldn't help but want to cling to the happy visage as tightly as he could.
Vanessa Kimball had been born, raised, and trained as part of yet another genetically engineered batch created to help make life "easier" for those stuck on a perpetually war-torn planet. That usually meant throwing batches of the artificially created into the fray to shield the "natural born" of the population, so it kind of sucked for the genetically engineered.
She had been created to be a Supply Runner, and there was scarce little time in her life when she could even remember not being in constant motion. She had barely ever been allowed the luxury to rest in her hometown of Chorus, but whenever the sand with ice trim wearing armored woman had the rare opportunity to do so, she absolutely loved it.
There was a peace and beauty to Chorus that she came to desperately crave as a reprieve from the chaos and loss. Many of its citizens were downright respectful and grateful to her for her forced service, as compared to the more distasteful views she received elsewhere. Some had even come to her defense in the times when another wasn't as open-minded.
She appreciated that, and often volunteered to help in reconstruction efforts just out of a desire to do something, anything, to help Chorus remain as hopeful as it could be to both herself and others like her.
She would always find herself eager to finish even the more suicidal missions she and those of her batch were given if it meant protecting Chorus. Stepping foot back onto the region's soil renewed her energy afterwards like nothing else could.
She survived despite so many attempts being made to prevent it, and she had become that much stronger for it. By the time Chorus had officially declared the forced usage of genetically engineered people illegal, well before the rest of the world when the war was inexplicably over did, she had befriended even the latest leader of Chorus and was deemed instrumental in his disavowing of both the Supply Runner program and the creation of future batches.
By that time, only she and a younger Supply Runner named Charles Palomo were still alive, but knowing that they would be the last of their kind created in Chorus, Kimball considered it a major victory in further improving the region for all.
She continued to work hard towards her goal of making Chorus as safe as possible, to try to ensure that no one else who came to live there would suffer as she and Palomo had. For all intents and purposes, it was what kept her going.
The first time that Doyle saw Kimball in any sort of personal capacity, it had been at the wedding.
To be sure, he had heard of the younger, dark-skinned woman beforehand, as pretty much everyone residing in Chorus was well-aware of the Supply Runner who had so notably risen within the ranks of a system that, before, would have never allowed it. Most spoke of her with admiration and respect, though there were still some woefully close-minded individuals out there. Doyle tried not to pay them any heed. After all, Kimball's efforts were indeed quite remarkable even if their paths had yet to cross.
It was Cass, his superior's new bride, who introduced them, amusement dancing across her eyes as she grinned at them both, "I can't believe you two haven't met yet considering how much talk I hear about the both of you at home!"
Her doting husband, his arm slung over Cass' shoulders as he pulled her close, was also smiling widely as Doyle and Kimball sized one another up, "It's only because I have such high hopes for you two." He assured them.
Doyle had, admittedly rather foolishly, stood there, mouth hanging open in speechless astonishment. He didn't think he had ever seen such a beautiful woman before.
Kimball's eyebrows raised up the longer his silence carried, her chin jutting out in obvious annoyance at his prolonged muteness. Far too late for him to correct the mistake, he realized regretfully that she thought he was insulting her by not deigning to talk to a Supply Runner.
…Well, his face grew terribly warm at the sudden thought, would admitting the real reason for his stunned silence be any better? Either way, he'd positively die of embarrassment!
Their introduction ultimately proved to be the first time they argued over a simple misunderstanding. It would be far from the last.
It wasn't too long after that meeting that both Kimball and Doyle became the righthand men of Chorus' leader. Tragically, just a year after his marriage had given everyone residing in Chorus a cause for celebration, the man was killed in action during a raid by another region.
Afterwards, the two left behind learned that, should something have ever happened to him, he had mandated that they were both to be given the status of co-leaders.
"Damn it!" Kimball's fist made impact with the metal of the door behind her, and Doyle nervously glanced at the impressive dent she had left, wringing his own hands. No doubt her knuckles would bruise later.
He swallowed anxiously, his throat dry. He hated bringing it up since they were both still upset and in shock, but…
"Yes, well. What should we do?"
Kimball glared over at him, but he knew the act wasn't really directed his way entirely. Not really. She probably did think he had asked a dumb question though.
He was proven right when her expression softened into a defeated one and her shoulders sagged a moment later, "What else can we do?" Kimball asked, although her tone left no room for a reply.
Neither of them were sure what to make of the notion, but they knew that, for Chorus, they were both willing to at least give co-leading a chance.
Kimball was the one who suggested Chorus' open door policy following the "official" end of the war.
She reasoned that it would help strengthen their numbers and boost the economy, not to mention help many who had been displaced and uprooted due to the fighting and its abrupt aftermath.
But, given their tendency to seemingly always feel that the exact opposite of what their fellow co-leader thought was what was best for Chorus, she was certain that Doyle would disagree with her suggestion.
The dark-skinned woman was mentally going through her painstakingly assorted list of counters to whatever opposing viewpoint he might have even before her mouth had closed following her suggestion, bracing for a lengthy and pointless (because she knew she was right, damn it!) debate.
"I think you're quite right, Miss Kimball." Doyle stated with only a moment to ponder, "It is vitally important for Chorus to grow and thrive in this new era."
Kimball gaped in surprise for so long that Doyle became red-faced and fidgeted self-consciously in his seat under her brown-eyed gaze. Focusing on her victory instead, she decided not to dwell on her odd sense of lingering disappointment that the discussion hadn't ended up lasting longer.
The two co-leaders were both present when the odd, mismatched group calling themselves the Reds and Blues, perhaps as an odd tribute to the war that had inadvertently brought their family together, arrived at Chorus.
The group of worn-out soldiers, comprised of both genetically engineered humans and naturally birthed ones, stood out. It was as if they were perfect examples of the type of cohesive unity that Kimball and Doyle had been hoping they could achieve in Chorus.
"Hey, watch where you're going, kiss-ass! You can have a nerd-gasm over tech later." A chubby man in orange stated as he grabbed the elbow of a lanky fellow in maroon following him who had nearly bumped into a wall while looking around the city in wonderment, guiding the other male in joining the others in front of the two leaders.
"I—I wasn't…!" The freckled redhead said as he became flustered, "That wasn't what I was doing, fat-ass!"
The orange-armored man simply rolled his eyes in response, "Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say, Simmons."
Doyle and Kimball shared a look at the exchange. The Reds and Blues were certainly colorful in their interactions with one another, to say the least.
The Reds and Blues were quick to setup a warehouse on the outskirts of the city to help go through and refurbish materials and supplies found throughout the wastelands, soon becoming quite valued residents of Chorus.
…As well as something of good friends to many of the other residents, including both Doyle and Kimball.
It was an odd feeling, Kimball mused, to find out that the two co-leaders had even more in common than she first thought.
The party to celebrate the anniversary of Chorus' founding was going well, especially since so many of the restored establishments in the still being built up entertainment district had volunteered to stay open to help with the festivities.
Palomo had begged Kimball to take the night off, acting for all the world like the stubborn, slightly-annoying-yet-altogether-endearing little brother figure her housemate had become to her over the years. Apparently, he was eager to have her meet a newcomer he was crushing on face-to-face.
There was still a lot of work that needed to be done, but for the moment? Kimball was content to let everyone forget about that and enjoy themselves, so she let Palomo drag her along, waiting while he went to find Katie and her family in the crowd.
"Grif! For the last time, you can't just eat directly from the buffet trays!" The familiar, high-pitched voice of a frustrated Richard "Dick" Simmons reached her ears.
Kimball watched as the tan-skinned man called Dexter Grif rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Well, they really needed to put out bigger plates then." He reasoned sagely.
Simmons was glancing around furtively, "You're going to get in trouble." He stage whispered like they were sharing some terribly dark secret.
"No one's forcing you to stick around, you know."
Simmons frowned as if considering the matter, but he still chose not to leave. Instead, he hesitantly inched closer to Grif until their shoulders were brushing against one another.
Grif paused, a noticeable shiver running up his entire body as he glanced over at a blushing Simmons who was now finding the trays of food before the two of them utterly fascinating. There was a darkening flush to Grif's own cheeks as well as he turned his gaze back down to the food too.
Neither of the men made any effort to put more distance between them, Kimball noted. Cheered by the display of surprising intimate closeness and thrilled to be able to witness everyone seemingly enjoying themselves, Kimball started to mingle herself.
She found Palomo with Katie before he dragged the poor girl all over the place looking for Kimball. She recognized the tan-skinned, freckled girl as Lieutenant Jensen, who she immediately got into a lively discussion with on the lighting systems' power outage for tonight while Palomo beamed happily at the two getting along with a darkening flush on his cheeks every time Jensen so much as turned his way.
It was quite cute, and Kimball had a feeling that if Jensen ever recognized Palomo's earnest feelings and reciprocated them at some point, she would do the young man a world of good. Kimball could only hope she would be able to see it happen. Palomo deserved some happiness and warmth in his life. Just like everyone here did.
Later on, when Kimball tore her gaze up from a throng of well-wishers who had surrounded her, she caught sight of Grif and Simmons standing off by themselves farther away from the party, looking up at the stars together in what seemed to be a contented, companionable sort of silence.
She smiled slightly at the sight, just as a cry of "Miss Kimball!" reached her ears and she turned around to face the only person who ever addressed her thusly.
Kimball turned around to face him, and Doyle was once again struck absolutely speechless at the sight of Kimball enveloped in the pale glow of moonlight and softly dimmed lighting overhead. She took in his reaction with an unreadable expression and Doyle nearly flinched backwards at the sudden fear that she might misconstrue his reaction once more, his face heating up as he did so.
To his further astonishment, however, Kimball actually quirked her lips upwards in one of the rarest and most captivating smiles he had ever had the good fortune to witness, "Doyle, want to join me in a round of star and people gazing?" She inquired amicably.
"I—I…" His mind had gone completely blank at this turn of events, so used to their interactions ending rather poorly.
Kimball smiled even more at his flustered response, looping her arm through his in a comradely fashion, "We can always save the arguing for another night, don't you agree?" She asked to break the ice.
Doyle's throat was dry again, and his whole body was no doubt on fire. A very much elated feeling pored into his being, as he smiled back gratefully and nodded mutely in turn.
…It was a pleasant, enjoyable change of routine for both Doyle and Kimball, even if it would take them quite a long time to admit it.
Author's Notes: So, Doyle was pretty much smitten with Kimball from the get-go, while Doyle had to grow on Kimball a bit beforehand. XD I hope you enjoyed their shared prequel together! Also, this MIGHT actually be my first time ever writing Doyle's POV, now that I think about it. I hope I did his character justice! :D
The last part of Prelude for Losers? is going to cover the Lieutenants' stories, and it will be followed by two Grimmons prequel pieces. But first, another chapter of the main story When We Were Soldiers is going to be posted! We are actually pretty close to the ending for this story-verse, so I hope that you will bear with me and that these final stories and chapters will be enjoyable and well worth the wait. :D
Also, I MIGHT be posting a new story at some point soon because I'm clearly insane and like to punish myself. My brain getting a ton of story ideas all at once can be really stress-inducing even while it is fun at the same time. XD
As always, thank you so much for reading! :D