The following information changes over time! However, do not expect the second chapter's update to match the eleventh's!


Agent Puerto Rico


Summary: Raven was told that she was a soldier. A soldier, by their definition, followed orders to the letter. There was nothing else to do but to follow it. So, she did. Sure, she wanted to offer resistance, but she wanted to avoid getting a bullet in her skull for insubordination. Then again, this amnesia thing...it felt pretty unnatural.

Character(s): Raven B., Agent Carolina, David/Agent Washington/Wash, Sarge

Genre(s): Angst, Drama, slight Romance between Sarge and Raven because the voice actors are married but ultimately tai/raven because the ORIGINAL SHIPS ARE BEST.

Rating: M

Language(s): English : English; English, Rumination languages (written in gibberish, maybe), French, Spanish.

Warnings: Gore (lots of blood and intestines), sexual content (maybe mild, unless I can get a beta), and inappropriate language (if you're not about that life). Also personal opinions may cloud issues, just ignore those.

Beta(s): N/A

Crossover(s): RWBY: Eyes of Odin AU, Arc Scion/Head AU, Dragons AU, MAIDEN Suit AU. | RvB

End Notes: Came to my head. Can't get rid of it. May never be completed because I am not a focused human being.


Season #1: "Many Years Ago" | Act #1: "Rooky"

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Cover Art, that belongs to DeviantArt user arusuzuki.

I do not own RWBY, that belongs to Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth, extensively.

I do not own Red vs Blue, that belongs to Rooster Teeth.

I do, however, own any and all OCs, AUs, and twisted plot/Canon.

Please support the official releases.

Now, for the love of God, let this Fanfiction begin!


Chapter #1: "Amnesia"

Location: unknown

Date: unknown

Time: unknown

POV: third, limited, unknown, unknown age


Eyes fluttered open lazily to reveal black orbs of pupils, which retreated to protect the retina, revealing red rubies beneath, the iris almost shining as it recognized what appeared to be a white ceiling, dully lit by surrounding lights. It smelled of antiseptics, though devoid of any rotted flesh or blood - though she came to expect it, it was unfamiliarly missing.

A part of her, however, began becoming increasingly anxious as if she did not belong. The unfamiliar setting, smell, and unusual attention to even detail she could not pick up with her shut eyes, made her almost reach out to her left hip with a right arm lazily snaking across her stomach, as if expecting a weapon to be there.

"Do not be alarmed, agent."

The voice, while characteristically calming, commanded her to do what she did not. Although the soreness she felt all over her body was telling, she could not quickly lean up as she had wanted to. So, taking the words' attempted reassurance via voice tone at face value, she sat up, before her lack of trust became telling once more, as she narrowed her eyes at the two standing before her.

The two men before her were of different color. The man to the left, standing in a dominant stance, was a white man, green eyes behind spectacles that reminded her of the feeling of both dread and unadulterated anger. The one on the right was a black man, completely polite in his stance and facial features. She liked him better immediately, and her suspicion laid with the initial one she noted.

Both, she added, wore an identical uniform. Predominantly dull silver with black at the top.

The room was larger than she originally expected - several times so, in fact. On one side of the room, there was a lot of wasted space, and on her side of the room, beds were strewn about across the back wall. The other beds were empty.

She supposed the calming voice came from the darker skinned of the two, and her face released a minute amount of tension - and her suspicions were confirmed when the man nodded. Her eyes narrowed down on the white man.

"I am the counselor, agent," he introduced himself, "my name is Aiden Price." He then gestured to the man on his right. "This is the Director of Project Freelancer, Leonard Church."

She then felt a small headache forming, reaching up with her right hand.

"Is there small head pain, agent?"

She nodded boredly, though she lied not. She released a small sigh. "Why can't I remember anything?" she plainly asked. Any information is required for any steps forward to decide the next course of action.

Her eyes opened just in time to see Mr Price stepping forward to answer, only to be held back by Director Church with an arm. She already knew they were withholding information and going to be lying to her and her features automatically revealed such. "All objectives of your preliminary mission were accomplished, agent," he answered, "however, with the amount of resistance you encountered, you were forced to retreat and took a bullet wound that grazed the back of your skull. A fellow agent rescued you."

She was immediately suspicious but displayed no sign of it, deciding to play along. Nodding and smiling sweetly - practised, she assumed - she said, "Thank you, Director."

His response was clipped. "Thank your fellow agent in the future, Puerto Rico."

"Puerto Rico?" she wondered, eyes narrowing briefly in befuddlement. Mr Price, capturing the thinly veiled confusion, answered her unvoiced question.

"The agents were named after the United States' states and territories. You attained the name of Puerto Rico, one of its territories." She nodded as if she understood - the base of knowledge was always assumed to remain in amnesia, though this amnesia felt unnatural. Unnatural enough that said base knowledge was absent, if never present whatsoever. She will investigate later, she decided. "Would you like to remain hospitalised until your headache eases?"

The Director appeared to want to protest, and to maintain what appears to be faith in her abilities, she immediately declined, "No...I believe I can shake it off after a short while."

The Director visibly relaxed and nodded. "Very well, agent. You are dismissed." The two began to leave.

As a last say, the Counselor added a quick, "Dinnertime is in half an hour, agent. 1800, sharp. There, you will meet your fellow Freelancers."

"Mr Price?" she said suddenly. The Director ignored her and left the room - pneumatic hiss opening and shutting the door behind them - and the man she called remained, turning towards her.

He turned towards her cordially. "Yes, agent?"

"What's my name?"

The man seemed to hesitate, but she maintained her fa├žade as she saw that he appeared torn on how to answer. He must want to follow orders, but is also appalled in doing so. She noted to investigate in the future.

"You requested not to have a name signed," he replied smoothly now after a moment, and she nodded. A good lie, but one noticed. "Will that be all?"

"What am I?"

Unblinkingly, he attempted to answer, "You are an agen-"

"What. Am. I?" she cut him off with a solid repetition. Her narrowed eyes displayed hostile intent if he repeated the answer she was not content with.

He sighed long with shut eyes, before opening them and looking at her. She remembered something small, however large philosophy: the eyes are the window to the soul. And she could see his eyes were tortured from what she assumed were the secretive objectives of this Project Freelancer that he was made privy to. His guard returned instantaneously, and she figured he would never again appear vulnerable.

"By the definition of the Project, you are a soldier," he answered. As he paused, she reflected and appreciated the emphasis on whose definition it was. "Soldiers, by the Project's definition, follow orders down to the letter. Soldiers do not question their superiors' decisions. Soldiers can do nothing more than follow them."

She felt offended that she was reduced to such a state, but nodded for his sake. "That will be all," she said, "then," quickly enough, as she then thought on the structure of her dismissal, as if she were in charge. She did not want to do that to the counselor. For what it was worth, he did not appear to have noticed the initial unintended order. If he had, he took it in stride before looking around quickly, as if suspicious of surveillance of any kind before walking towards her and extending something he produced from his pocket.

"All of the digital journals and diaries provided in agent rooms are constantly monitored. You might find this a little more secure, despite today's advancements." She accepted the leatherbound book and gave him what felt like a rare, grateful nod. He smiled and finally departed from the room, leaving her alone.

She gave a long exhale, set down the journal at her side, brought up her legs into a criss cross, and set her elbows onto her knees. She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands, messaging her temples in an attempt to assuage the minor pain in her skull. A hand reached back to inspect her supposed injury.

Bandages wrapped all the way around her skull, and the back of it clearly revealed no lie was spoken of in the extent of her injury. She felt a depression under the bandage and dampness. When she brought her hand back, there was a minute amount of blood resting in the trenches of her thumb's imprint.

She looked down at her attire and found herself in standard hospital dress and had no compunction with leaving a stray blood stain across her right side. Her soreness became a numb feeling rushing through her body. She popped her neck muscles, though found something strange. She raised her hand to touch the strange sensation, and found something appalling.

Under the touch of a finger, she felt it. Metal.

Setting aside the crisis, she shook her head, caught the journal in her right hand, and extricated herself from the bed she was admitted in.

Standing on her two feet felt easy and practised from her spot on the bed. For how long she lay there, she didn't know. But the fact remained that she had apparently gone through surgery and received what appeared to be metal implants - or God forbid, neural implants - and it was rather concerning to her. Base knowledge told her her race was not advanced enough to have any such technology concerning the human brain, let alone attaching metal and wire to the human cardiac system, despite what felt like a lack of educational status in her brain.

She shakily sighed, shut her eyes in a moment, and calmed down her heart rate. All the anxiousness hesitantly left her system, before she opened her eyes and tightened her grip on the book to assure that she still had the object.


End of Chapter 1


That's that! It's a cool idea...might overshadow Black Tail a bit, but that's that.

And now, for the love of God, let the next Fanfiction begin!