Author: XD This by product of my brain is Storm Maiden Lucania's fault. I saw the Red vs Blue movie (really, just the first season in one run) and became instantly hooked. So, in short, I have become a fangrl of Red vs Blue!
Disclaimers: I DO NOT OWN RED VS BLUE! I so wish I did...there would have been more mpreg babies!
Warning: GORE, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, SEXUL SITUATIONS ARE ALL FOUND IN HUNTED! IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THIS, THEN DON'T READ! i AM NOT RESPONISBLE FOR POSSIBLE SCARRING OF THE MIND OR ADDICTION!
Hunted
Chapter 1: Bleeding in the Rain
~Valhalla- Post War: 6 months~
For the Red Team in Valhalla, it was a perfectly normal day. Simmons was kissing Sarge's ass, Sarge was yelling at Grif, and Lopez... was being Lopez. However, the constant sunlight that fell over the lush boxed canyon was suddenly blocked. It became covered by a curtain of dark ominous clouds. Grif, who had been lounging on the roof, looked up and wiped his visor. The weather never changed!
"What the fuck?" He muttered, rolling to his feet with a yawn. He stared at the sky, thoroughly confused as Simmons and Sarge burst into the roof.
"What in sam hell is goin' on? Grif, what did you do?!" Sarge barked, glaring at the orange clad soldier. Grif jumpd, a whine already making it's way into his voice.
"I didn't do anything! The sky did that on it's own!" He protested, pointing to the dark blanket above. Valhalla was fully cast in shadow, the water turned black and the colors muted to dull shades of grey.
"Sir, I'll have to agree with Grif on this one. There's no way this fat ass wash out could possibly change the weather." Simmons interjected.
"Yeah! Wait... Hey!" Grif whined, just realizing the insult within the statement. Just as Grif opened his mouth to form a coherent rebuttal, a scream ripped across Valhalla. It pierced the air like shattering glass, bursting the Red's eardrums as it echoed through their radios.
"What the fuck?!" Grif exclaimed, trying to turn his radio off. He could still hear screaming, somewhere around Blue base. Simmons cursed as he finally switched his helmet radio off.
"What the heck? Was that Caboose?" Simmons asked, annoyed and a little worried. Sarge grunted.
"That damn fool probably jus' set 'imself n fire." Grif could 't help but feel a sense of foreboding building in the pit of his stomach. He could still hear the far off screams... Right until they suddenly cut off.
"Should we...should we check out if Caboose is alright?" He asked, shuffling around as the light pitter patter of rain began to fall upon Valhalla. Sarge grumbled under his breath.
"Well, it'd be a shame if that idiot died by an accident and not by us Reds! But then again... It could all be an elaborate plot to separate us! That no good, dirty blue could have secret reinforcements, and is tying to draw us away so he can attack our base! And it was probably him who changed the weather!" Sarge rattled off in an excited, heavily Southern accented voice. Simmons rolled his eyes, but Grif was the one who spoke up.
"Sir, I really doubt that Caboose could have enough brain power to put all that together." The Orange Spartan quipped, rain starting to fall harder. Thunder rumbled over head, bringing with it the promise of a long storm.
"Well, I don't care if he can't wipe his own ass! We aren't leaving this base!" Sarge groused, marching into the depths of the base and leaving Simmons and Grif alone.
"We need to go check on him." Simmons said, sounding deadly serious. Grif's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth just short of dropping open. It was rare, almost unheard of for Simmons to even think about going against Sarge's orders! Gif quickly composed himself though, and nodded in agreement. The twi jumped into the grav-lift, skyrocketing into the air before landing upon the wet ground with two solid thuds. The sky had finally opened up to unleash a down pour of stinging rain. The winding river that flowed from the waterfall by Blue base was roaring, the water splashing onto the bank. The water level was already rising, and fast.
"We need to hurry. If the water keeps rising like this, it could flood the canyon." Simmons said as they jumped across the river. They ran in in silence for a few minutes, looking over Blue base and it's surroundings. Grif finally came to a halt and swore.
"We're never going to find him! That retard Caboose could be anywhere!" He pointed out, shifting in his armor uncomfortably. His suit was rubbing in places he would rather not think about.
"Alright, I'll go check the base. Maybe he's hiding out in there. You check out here. He could be hiding under a tree or something." Simmons said. The two took off in different directions, hollering for Caboose and shouting his name. Grif even whistled as if he were calling a dog!
"Caboooooooose! C'mere boy!" Grif shouted, trying to escape the rain under the pitiful umbrella of a young tree. When he received no reply, or even a gunshot, he sighed.
"Simmons, please tell me you found Caboose in the base." He asked over the helmet radio, a shred of hope hanging by a thread. If Caboose was in Blue base, Grif and Simmons could just go home!
"Sorry Grif, but I don't see him anywhere. We'll just have to keep looking outside." Simmons static riddled voice replied. With a groan, Grif pulled himself from under the tree and onwards, cursing Caboose.
"Roger tha-fuck!" The orange clad Spartan cursed as his boot snagged on something and sent him reeling forward. Grif landed face first in the cold mud with a wet squelch. For a second, all Simmons could here over the radio was the sound of Grif trying to regain his footing and spitting out an expletive when he once again lost his balance.
"Fuck berries! I'm gonna kill Caboose!" Grif roared as he finally managed to make it to his feet after minutes of slipping and sliding. His orange armor was covered from visor to his boots in greenish brown mud, thoroughly masking the paint and his vision. Grif huffed and bent down to pick up his rifle, wiping his visor, when he saw something poking out of the mud in the corner of his eyes. Upon closer inspection, he found that it was the butt of a rifle, similar to his own.
"Hey, Simmons, I found a rifle! Do you think it could be Caboose's?" Grif asked.
"Well, it could be. I mean, I've never found any other weapons lying around." Simmons stated, trudging through some underbrush.
"I'm gonna keep going. Maybe that moron is around here somewhere." Grif reported, slowly making his way out of the mud. He walked on for a few minutes, his ears straining to hear the smallest disturbance. It was hard to concentrate with the roar of rain and occasional boom of thunder overhead. The weather was growing more and more treacherous by the second, driving to the point where Grif was almost being lifted off the ground by powerful gusts of wind! Debris and rain splattered against his visor, making it nigh impossible to see as he struggled along.
"Gri-! You -eed to get- of th-! The -orm is gett- too dangerous!" Simmons yelled through the radio, his voice constantly interrupted with static as he cut off.
"I will! Just give me a few- son of a bitch!" Grif yelled out as he stumbled and fell to the ground once again. He turned, trying to discern the objet that tripped him up again. Squinting through the slick rain and leaves, Grif could see a smear of red... Against shattered dark blue armor.
"CABOOSE!" Grif scrambled to his knees, hands clenching down on the armor he could see that wasn't covered in mud or blood. It was definitely attached to Caboose, by the way it refused to lift up at Grif's touch. The orange clad Spartan cursed again. He couldn't see through the haze of the storm, making it impossible to determine Caboose's wounds.
"Simmons! I found Caboose! He's hurt but I can't tell where!" Grif shouted, trying to find Caboose's chest. His fingers ran over the sharp contours of the armor, looking for the tell tall grooves of the chest plate. Ah! There it was! With a grunt, Grif wrapped one arm around the Blue's chest, struggling to lift him up. With a wet sound, Caboose's helmet was freed from mud, only to make Grif curse again. The helmet was battered and broken, the visor crumbling to pieces. Half of it was still partially intact, barely holding back a tide of blood that seeped from within. Grif ignored the burst of static roaring in his radio as he tried to pull Caboose away.
"Simmons! I can't hear you! I'm going try and find some shelter!" Grif shouted as he drew himself up, looping one of Caboose's arms around his neck. The Blue soldier was a dead weight on him, unmoving and eerily quiet. Grif caught a glance at the exposed part of the Rookie's face, but could only get a glimpse of deathly pale skin, a flash of pale blond hair, and plush lips caked in blood.
~All I can tell is that he's losing blood fast. If I don't get him outta here, he's going to die.~ Grif thought grinly as he dragged Caboose away. He couldn't make it back to Red or Blue base with Caboose like this. His only option was to settle down in the alcove of two rocks, which gave him just enough shelter to escape being wet for a while.
Grif gently laid Caboose down on the ground, seeing his injuries clearly now. The chest plate was a ruined, twisted mess of metal. It was gouged with deep slashes, yanked and pulled on as if some creature had been trying to pry it open. Blood seeped from where bits of armor had been broken off, flowing freely now that the rain wasn't there to wash it away. It pooled around Caboose's body, trickling across the wide field of his ruined blue armor. The helmet was ruined, half of it missing and the other half cracked beyond repair. Long, deep scratches marred Caboose's skin, splitting the tender flesh open to expose raw nerves and bone. His eyes were closed, clenched tight out of pain. A lock of stray blond hair peeked out from under Caboose's visor, stark against his ashen flesh. Grif wiggled his hand between the Blue Spartan's jaw and neck, sighing when he found a weak, yet steady pulse. All Grif could do mow was try to stem infection from setting in and keep Caboose breathing while he waited out the storm. Grif finally sat down next to Caboose, pulling the injured idiot's head into his lap. He watched as the Blue soldiers chest rose and fell slowly, just barely discernible under the weight of his chest plate.
"Hang on buddy... We're gonna help you." Grif whispered, one hand protectively on his gun, while to other gently stroked Caboose's cheek.
Author: Alright! The first chapter is finished and I eagerly await our reviews to figure out how the second chapter will go! So, hit that button and review you lazy hobos! Review review review review review re- JUST DO IT ALREADY!
Flames will be used to heat Hell and Axel! :D