A World of Wild Wild Evolution

by erttheking

Life in Remnant is about to change. Courier number 6 investigates something wrong at the isolated Big Mountain research facility and has his life turned upside down. Inspired by Light at the End by BlindingPhoenix

8. A World of Chibi Chibi Evolution

"Yeah, look, James here. Apparently, Erttheking just utterly stopped giving a shit and wanted to do a World of Chibi Chibi Evolution or some crap, so me and everyone else is gonna to be basically improving whatever bits we could come up within the five minutes of heads up we had. Seriously, Erttheking just did stupidly short doodles when he was bored. Half of us kind of want to kill each other so we're gonna make this quick and dirty. Please enjoy the show if you can and I apologize for everything you're about to suffer through."

James Walker: Filming under protest

XXXXX

Vulpes smirked as he listened. It was all gonna according to plan. All the scheming, the manipulating, and it had all lead to this moment. "Cindeeeeeeer! Lanius won't keep his feet on his side of the car!" Vulpes grinned. He was carpooling with Cinder and her bad boy lacky Mercury, and he had been forced into the backseat. With Lanius. Truly his plans to spread misery and discord knew no equal. "Cindeeeeeeeer, he's kicking me!"

"I do not recognize this crippled boy's right to his side of the car. All of the backseats belongs to the Legion," Lanius said with an utterly straight face. Presumably anyway. "Caesar is the unifier of 86 tribes and 24 back seats. This marks the 25th. If you wish to claim this territory as your own, stand your ground and take it with your own two hands. If you wish for them to meet the same fate as your feet that is." Oh-ho, constantly going for jabs about his legs, excellent.

"You do know that if they keep bickering like this and you don't do something, I am setting this car on fire, correct?" Cinder asked, her normally calm demeanor having given way to barely controlled frustration. All according to plan "Vulpes. I will start with snuffles up there." She flicked her finger. His cowl felt very warm all of a sudden

"Now now, let the children have their fun," he said, hastily reaching up to pat Snuffles out.

Eventually, the car came to a stop at a stop light, and another car pulled up beside them. "Oh shit, is today joint custody day?" Caesar said, sticking his head out of the window of the car. "Must've slipped my mind. Oh well. SUCKS TO BE YOU VULPES! YOU'RE STUCK WITH THE BOYS TODAY!" With that, he floored it and drove off.

As Vulpes watched him go, he felt Snuffles get very warm again.

XXXXX

A dark stage was at the center of the room. A single light flickered on. A young man in a bright blue jumpsuit sits in the middle of the spotlight. A bright yellow 13 on his back. "I need to find a water chip for my Vault within a year. If I don't, everyone will die of thirst," said the Vault Dweller.

A second light flickered on. A woman in her mid-thirties was in this one, wearing torn and ragged tribal clothing. "The soil in my village has gone bad, and I've been chosen by my mother to venture out to find a G.E.C.K. If I fail, my village will perish," the Chosen One said

A third light came to life. A young Latino man, no older than nineteen, stood there in another blue jumpsuit, a yellow 101 on its back. "My father was the doctor in our Vault, but one day I woke up to find everything in chaos and him gone. I had to flee for my life, and now I'm wandering the wasteland, looking for him and answers," the Lone Wanderer said.

A fourth light blazed on. A dark-skinned woman in yet another jumpsuit was illuminated, this one bearing the number 111. "I was there when the bombs dropped. I saw Boston disappear into atomic flame. My family and I took shelter in a Vault and were frozen in cryo-pods. But my husband was murdered, my son stolen, and now I'm in a world I don't understand, trying to find my son," the Survivor said.

A fifth light blazed on, revealing James. "I got shot in the head and robbed, and I'm looking for the prick who did it." There was a long silence.

"Wait that's it?" the Lone Wanderer said. "You're not looking for a family member or trying to save your community?"

"I mean, I did the whole hero thing along the way, but that's what got me going," James said. "Look, I know it sounds bad, but I did the whole saving the day thing and I'm glad I did it. I just took a roundabout way to get there."

"And I thought we had a theme going," the Survivor said.

James shrugged. "Eh, not really. I mean you kind of had a Vault dweller theme going on, but then she didn't come out of a Vault," he pointed at the Chosen One, "so that kind of broke that pattern. They tried to keep it gonna with me by sticking me with a Vault 21 jumpsuit, but really Vault 21 was more House's thing than mine. Not sure what they were going for with that. Come to think of it, that half-assed pattern didn't get started for a while, some other shit came up first."

At that point, a sixth spotlight came on, revealing a place on the floor where there was a hatch. It was viciously chained up, and there was an inscription on the hatch itself. "Van Buren." There was a loud banging and a muffled voice came from the other side. "You assholes doing a bit up there? I want in, let me out!" Marie F. shouted.

"Sorry, that one's beyond us," the Chosen One said. "Well, I think that's everyone...right?"

Around that point, a man in power armor stuck his head in the room. "Hey, you forgot about me!" the Warrior said. "I was the star of Fallout Tactics! Remember Tactics? That was a good game right?" He received a loud chorus of ums and ahs as a response. "Hey, come on, it was classic Fallout fun!"

"It was decent. Ok," the Vault Dweller said. "Nothing special."

"At least you got fucking released!" the Marie F. shouted, the trapdoor rattling again as it was hit. "And it's not like you're the worst Fallout. We didn't invite the asshole did we?"

On cue, another person stuck their head through the door, swaying as they did and grinning dumbly. "Hey, guys! Buy BAWLS Guarana!" said the Initiate. The woman in question looked around. Then she stopped smiling as she realized she had five different guns trained on her. "Wait, shit!" With that, she turned and ran, bullets riddling the wall behind her.

"Just to clarify, we never acknowledge that game existed again, right?" James asked, firing a few more shots after the Initiate. He received a chorus of yeses. "Good to hear. Ok, this was clearly a mistake. Let's get out of here before we got mobbed by five million people wearing Vault 76 jumpsuits."

"I CAN'T YOU FUCKING PRICK!" Marie F. shouted. "I'M FUCKING STUCK!"

"Right, shit," James said.

"Hold on, I'm technically part of the Brotherhood. I mean a couple of us can join up or at least cozy up to them, but for me it's canon," the Lone Wanderer said. "I'll go get my power armor and see if I can rip it off."

"You forgot I existed already, didn't you," the Warrior grumbled.

"Look, plenty of people have never played 1 and 2 but they still know a lot about us," The Chosen One said. "They know about the Master, about Frank Horrigan, Harold, and of course they know about Dave. Name one memorable part about Tactics?" The Warrior slumped down, looking depressed. At least he probably was under his helmet.

The Sole Survivor walked over and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "At least you're a cult classic to some. Better than Brotherhood of Steel."

"What's wrong with BAWLS Guarana?" a weary voice called out. More bullets riddled the wall.

"That game almost got a fucking sequel," James muttered. "Wait, hold on." A figure was crawling onto the stage now, wearing a Vault 76 jumpsuit. It was horrifically mutated, an unnatural cyst that was twice the size of his head hanging off of his back, a hand the size of his head pulling him forward, and tumors were just dotting his belly.

"Kill me...kill me…" the man rasped.

"Nice one Bethesda," James grumbled, drawing his pistol. "Everyone, go on ahead, I'll catch up. I'll try to not use one on myself."

XXXXX

"This is where the reports say the White Fang were killed," Winter said crisply. She, Ironwood and Ozpin were all standing on a rooftop in downtown Vale. "In the middle of a Grimm attack, they still stopped to exact petty vengeance."

"Don't underestimate the destructive nature of hate," Ozpin said morbidly. "I've seen dozens of men make a forced march on a manhunt for one man who defied them. Half of them died to hunger and they still pressed on to satisfy their vengeance. Such is the way of men."

"That explains that," Ironwood said. "Though it doesn't explain something equally important. Why are they all in their underwear?" Indeed, every last dead member of the White Fang had been stripped down to their underwear. And piled up in the corner of the building. "There must have been some demented reasoning behind this."

At that moment, there was a roar of anger from ground level. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WON'T TAKE THEM!?" Everyone on the roof took a brief glance at each other before rushing to the edge of the roof, looking down at the commotion. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE A NOODLE BAR!? WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING!? YOU GOT MONEY!" A booted foot kicked open the door at the base of the building and James pushed out a wheelbarrow that was filled with bloodstained White Fang armor.

"Well fuck me! I thought this society would be more civilized than the wasteland, but that'll teach me!" With a huff, he pushed the wheelbarrow down the street. "And I was gonna to sell you all the random drugs I picked up! Someone else is gonna be getting all this Jet then!"

There was a long pause as the three on the roof watched James go. "No offense Ozpin, this is why most employers have more than one bedside conversation with a man before giving him a job," Ironwood said. Ozpin merely hung his head in shame.

"Hey, Ruby! Wanna buy some drugs!?"

XXXXX

"I'm telling you, it was so sweet of him," Pyrrha said admiringly. James smiled as he quietly listened to the young girl, both of them sitting on opposite ends at an outside cafe table. "It was something he said idly but he followed through on it just to make me feel better."

"I'm telling you, you've got a decent catch there, but you've gotta reel him in," James said. "He's not going to get the ball rolling on this one. Come on, you've got a guy who doesn't have a suicide pact with an asinine concept of masculinity, those are harder to find than you might think." Pyrrha turned bright red but didn't reply to James's comment.

"Oh, I even have a picture of it," Pyrrha said, reaching into her purse and producing a photo, which she showed to James. It was of all four members of Team JNPR in the middle of a dance, all of them in more formal outfits than they normally wore. Pyrrha was wearing an elegant red dress that fit her well, Ren looked sharp in a suit, and both Nora and Jaune were wearing identical dresses, bright pink and pure white respectively. If James had to criticize, it's that he thought Jaune could pull off a bright gold dress better, but he couldn't hold that against him. It looked fine. The kid had even shaved his legs, that was a lot of dedication there.

Then he saw something else. Something that set off a burning fire within him. Something that offended him on every possible level. Something that kindled pure, unrelenting anger towards Jaune. "WHY THE FUCK IS HE WEARING SNEAKERS!?" James roared.

Pyrrha looked back at the photo, sucking in air between her teeth. "Ah. Right. That. Yes, they do look rather tacky don't they?"

"TACKY!?" James shouted, standing up. "He has how many sisters and he thought that was a good idea!? And I was being a lenient with him before but he half-assed that in so many ways, screw it. I'm a teacher and god damn it I'm showing him how it's done. Pyrrha! With me! I've got cash and god damn it I'm going to use it! I need razors, makeup, and a tailor, where do I go for that?" I need to show this boy how it's done personally! I've got my sizes down, so help me out here!"

Pyrrha looked hesitant at first, but slowly a massive grin split her face. "Follow me."

XXXXX

The lights went dark before a bright spotlight shone on James sitting on a couch in a tuxedo with his legs crossed. "Hey there, welcome to our send off. Enjoying the show? Me neither, exit's to your right, we got alcohol out there. Expensive as shit, but trust me you'll need it. In the meantime, I thought I'd end this show for a mailroom special, with Ms. Belladonna here to help me through it."

Another spotlight flared to life, this one showing Blake in a flowing, black dress. "Great to be here...I think."

"Trust me, it isn't, I asked you to be here because misery shared is misery halved," James said reaching around the couch and pulling a mailbag onto the couch, right between the two of them. "Right. Full disclaimer, everything we're reading here was actually written by readers of this story. They will all be kept anonymous, but if you do figure out who wrote them, please do not actually message them based on what's in this chapter, this is supposed to be fun for the readers. Be cool, all right? With that at mind, let's pick one at random." Reaching into the mailbag, he pulled one out. "One reader asks...where is Driver Nephi. Uh. What? I...ok. I just...what?"

Slowly, muttering slowly as if he was trying to piece it all together, James got up, took a shovel out of nowhere, and walked off stage. "Uh, he may be a bit," Blake said, riffling through the mailbag. "So let's move on. One reader says, 'overall it feels like something is moving a bit too fast but can't quite put my finger on it.' Now, we've talked about this backstage after we read this, and we think the writer may be onto something. I mean think about it." Getting up, Blake walked offstage before pulling a whiteboard back.

"We've had seven chapters so far. One's non-canon at the moment but we'll still take it into account. In those chapters we've had the Big MT fight, the Vale fight, James meeting Team RWBY, James meeting Ozpin and getting a job, a day out in Vale, James going out gambling, a couple of cut away scenes with Cinder, James agreeing to help Atlas, Atlas organizing a counter attack, and the big fight in the forest town complete with the set up," she said, writing down a long list on the whiteboard. "Look at that, yeah. We could stand to slow down, and we will be taking that approach once the new chapter seven finishes up the current arc." She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you very much for your feedback."

At that moment James came back into the room, covered in dirt and dragging a rotting, headless corpse behind him. "Uh...unexpected guest star folks," he said, plopping Driver Nephi's decapitated body into a poofy armchair. It slumped to the side. "Right, next letter." He dove into the bag and pulled one out. "Ok let's see...ah, this person...among a bunch of other things, wants mod perks to be canon. Er, can we do that? It seems like it would be a bit of a mess."

A sign from up above dropped down out of nowhere, hanging above the two. It read "Sure, why not? Ever heard of 'Where's My Pants?' We can do that."

"Uh, I don't think so Ert, this person seems to think that I should be," James paused and looked more closely at the letter, squinting as he did. "Unkillablr. Yeah, apparently I'm supposed to be Unkillablr. So how would that-" before he could get another word out, he disappeared with a pop.

"I thought it was supposed to be misery shared," Blake grumbled reaching into the mailbag. This time she pulled out, not a single letter but a large bundle held together with a strap. A post-it note in the middle read "Space Battles & Fanfiction." "Ah, this must be the chapter 7 feedback. We've been meaning to cover this. "Slowly, Blake undid the bundle and went through them one at a time.

"Atlesian troops die too easily, guns seem to be like NERF guns at times, Sky died too undignified a death, Servius did far too well," she turned over another letter and blinked. "The same accusation that Servius did far too well...worded far less politely. I see." She removed one letter from the bunch and shifted it across the couch, away from her. "Bad guys were overpowered, it should not have been that easy to get hits on Pyrrha," she held that last letter up to the camera. "Ert underlined that last one twice in red ink"

She put the letters down. "We deeply appreciate all of this, the message was something we badly needed to hear. We agree deeply with it now that we've stopped and thought about it. Ert is hard at...ok I can't say that. Ert is spending hours...ok I can't say that either. Ert will eventually get the new chapter done, with your feedback having done much to make the story better than it was. It will be as good as it should have been the first time. Again, thank you very much for your feedback. Those of you who thought Pyrrha was too weak in the first chapter, we can assure you that you will be very happy with the new results. Please keep the feedback coming." She glanced at the stray letter. "Just...be polite please."

At that moment, James walked back into the room wearing a tightly wound bathrobe and dragging a jingling bag. "This would be worth a small fortune back home, garbage here because Ert's an asshole," he said, tossing the bag onto a nearby table. A few dozen bottle caps leaked out. "Right, where was I before Ert was a cock wart for the twelfth time this day." Plunging into the bag, he pulled out a random letter. "Someone wants to know why I didn't have a heavy weapon or high-grade energy gun. Except their wording wasn't that polite."

Reaching behind the couch, James picked up the Survivalist's rifle. "Because this old warhorse is a favorite around here and neither energy weapons or heavy weapons fit with the semi-gunslinger approach that Ert was going with for me. Seriously, he was walking around asking for cowboy names when he got the name Walker. Also New Vegas energy weapons kind of suck. Seriously, this rifle was always more reliable than, say, a plasma caster. Also, there was the problem that, if I went into Remnant with an energy weapon I'd be screwed on the resupply front. Honestly, it was a tone choice. It wasn't-" he looked at the letter. "Ok, I'm not repeating that. But that. It wasn't that."

"Ok, one more and we're gonna call it a day," Blake said, getting one last letter. "Please let Pyrrha, Penny, and Roman live." She looked up, blinking. "Uh, that isn't our department. Ert?" Another sign came down, this one simply saying "wait and see." Blake starred at it. "That's not very clear."

"Like I said, Ert's a cock wart," James said. "Seriously, he gave us ten dollars to put this stage together Look at this." Taking his rifle, he lightly tapped the wall. The wall began to creak at once before falling to the side, revealing the bathroom on the far side.

A man was sitting on the toilet, thankfully with his pants up and the lid closed, writing in a book that was titled "Being Unemployed and dead in the 42nd Millenium." "Oh, look, it's the guy who is actually employed," the Stupid Deaths author said bitterly. "Will you get the fuck out of here? I need to get this book done if I want to actually eat, the royalties from the last one are starting to dry up."

"And that seems like a good point to pull the plug. This was a mistake. Anyone, feel free to help yourself to whatever isn't nailed down. Ert may or may not do another one of these, I don't know. Pardon me, I need to get the fuck out of here." He got up and walked towards the exit. As he did, he encountered an unnaturally skinny figure. Pure black, twice his size, and with legs and arms as skinny as sticks, his torso not much bigger. It looked down at James, it's head being nothing more than a single, smooth black shape. It pointed its index finger at him. "No, fuck off, we're not doing that. We're calling it here. I SAID WE'RE CALLING IT HERE!"

XXXXX

Author's Note: Just something stupid that I wrote to amuse myself. I may do another one. This was dumb and I think it should stay that way.

Also. Seriously. Jaune wore FUCKING SNEAKERS with a dress. He had how many sisters and he never learned that was the equivalent of wearing high-heels and a wifebeater? This isn't me blowing things out of proportion, this is legitimately something that drove me crazy about Jaune, the clueless git.

I would like to thank my Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, Josue Garcia, and Jonathan Eason for their amazing support.