AUTHOR'S NOTE: this may well be out of character and there probably will be typos so please bear with me haha I am writing on a tablet. The dear reader will also note that I have no idea how this will take place. At the moment, I chose Blood Gultch and we may move on from there. Who knows?

SUMMARY: The morning stated the same way as any other. Loudly and with lots of swearing. Centered around Blood Gulch, it seems. I don't really know what's going to happen. I'm going to be just as surprised as you, dear reader. Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

The morning sun shown down on the bases of Blood Gulch, bouncing off the grey roofs in a wavery gleam of white. The emerald grass was particularly dazzling today against the rich browns of the enclosing rock walls (?). There was very little movement from either side of valley. The only noises were the swish of wind and various alien chirping (screeching?) bird thingies. For the most part, it was a typical, peaceful morning.

Until it suddenly wasn't.

"Goddammit, Donut!" came a yell and a loud, jarring crash.

"It wasn't me, Simmons, honest!" The lightish red cadet defended himself. Then he furrowed his brows, thinking. Then he added, "…this time. Definitely not this time."

The maroon soldier was laying in a heap at the foot of the ramp leading out of the base, blinking in the sudden sunlight. Donut was untangling himself in an attempt to get upright. Simmons groaned, thankful for his helmet. He shoved Donut off him to sit up and looked around to see what sent them tumbling outside. Also what the fuck was that stench?

Boots. Muddy orange boots. (At least he hoped it was mud.) That explained the smell. One of them was halfway up the ramp, the other where Simmons's head had been. Simmons felt his blood start to boil. He yanked off his helmet.

"GRIF!" he yelled down the corridor.

An orange armored figure rounded the corner, his own helmet tucked under his arm, with only socks on his feet. He was yawning and rumpling his dark hair.

"What? Why are we screaming already? Hey, have you guys seen my bo-- ha! Am I interrupting something?" He snickered as his hazel eyes came to rest on the slowly separating pile of pink and maroon.

"Fuck you and your stupid boots!" Simmons exploded, standing up. He grabbed a still struggling Donut by the scruff of his neck and dragged him up too.

"Ow! Simmons!" He whined, rubbing his neck.

"Shut up, Donut," growled Simmons.

He glanced around and bent quickly to snatch up the closest boot and launched it at Grif.

"There's your stupid shoe, dumbass! Quit leaving them where people can trip over them!"

It flew through the air, directly en route to Grif's face. He dipped back, pivoting on his left foot while his right one left the ground. The soldier felt the wind off of it, but he managed to avoid the projectile. It bounced off the wall behind him with a thud.

"Ha! You m--!" but the rest of his sentence was cut off as he lost his footing. "Fuck!"

Grif wobbled, flailing his arms to try and catch his balance, but it was too late. His stockinged foot slipped out from under him and he hit the smooth, polished concrete hard, hip first. All the air went out of him in an, "Uff!" His helmet went wide and rolled down the ramp to join Simmons and Donut. Grif was not far behind.

The orange soldier groaned as he began to slid awkwardly down the incline on his back. His armor scraped along as he went. What a way to start the day.

"That's called karma," Simmons chuckled when Grif finally came to rest at their feet. He made no attempt to get up. "Shouldn't have left your boots out on the ramp."

"Fuck… you…" Grif gasped, holding his side. "Also… ow."

The smug smile did not leave Simmons's face, but he did offer Grif a hand up, to which the orange soldier latched on to.

His armor had taken the brunt of his concrete dive, but his side still radiated with pain when Simmons hoisted him up. Grif tried not to gasp but he made enough of a sound that Simmons's smug grin faltered ever so slightly. Grif didn't notice. Oddly, he was still trying to catch his breath.

"FRONT AND CENTER, LADIES!!" Sarge's voice roared from outside and out of sight.

Donut jumped to attention. Simmons looked up in Sarge's general direction.

"Yes, Sir!" Donut shouted enthusiastically and in a pink flash, he was off.

Simmons made off a little more slowly, putting his helmet back on. A glint of orange caught his attention and Grif took an awkward step towards it. He still had a hand pressed to his side, panting slightly.

A quick flash of guilt passed through Simmons and he jogged up the ramp to grab Grif's boots for him. When he turned around to make his way back down, Grif was pushing his helmet down over his head. If Simmons didn't know better, he wouldn't have even been able to tell that his friend's posture wasn't quite right.

"Here," said Simmons, handing over the footwear.

Grif accepted them gratefully, happy to not have to waste the energy on going back up. Ugh, it was like he was breathing fire. What the fuck?

"Thanks," he said, he paused and then said something Simmons didn't expect, "Sorry about your guys' fall. You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, I just hurt my dignity. You good?"

Grif's helmet bobbed affirmatively. He grunted as he jammed his feet into his boots.

"Let's go see what our fearless leader wants," he said.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And there you have it. Chapter One. Short, yes, but as I've said, I'm trying to get my brain back in the swing of writing. It's been way too long. Anyway, review if you liked it, follow if you dare. Tell me what you'd maybe like to see happen next. I don't have a concrete story planned out, so suggestions are welcome.

Til next time, dear reader!