Red Love

Chapter2

BEEP-BEEP!

After a Level 3 Sentry's warning, everything seemed to zip pass and slow down at the same time. The sounds of rockets and bullets, the short rustle of haste, the warmth of another and the hiss of pain, all seemed to happened so fast. And yet you felt nothing but warmth and a sense of comfort and safety.

From a distance the RED Sentry beeped idly, scanning the area once more. You stared at the RED runner in astonishment and bewilderment and tried to pull away, but he simply stared up into your eyes, a pained but determine look, and held you firm.

The wordless message was passed and understood: Sentries were colour-sensitive.

You knew this. You've heard of accidents and the Soldier complaining about being shot by the Engineer's Sentries. The crazy fighter was covered in blood then, and with the Sentry programmed to shoot anything red, there was a tad of friendly fire. Of course, the Soldier admitted that the bullets didn't actually hit him, but the rockets did. You shuddered, remembering the bloody mess the Soldier was in, especially the arm hanging by a strip of skin. The Medic had fun healing that, you could hear him laughing from the mess room about bones snapping back together.

It was then did you feel some warm and wet, and the sharp salty scent of copper invaded your nose. With your train of thoughts interrupted, you glanced around frantically, at the blood that drenched your clothes, at the RED Scout, now limp and still, but breathing. A large wound covered his back, caused by the Sentry's rocket, bleeding and slightly burnt. You pulled yourself away from your counterpart, then froze.

The RED Sentry beeped idly.

You released the breath that was caught in your throat, before twisting around to survey your blood-stained clothes, feeling both grateful and worried. With effort, you managed to lift him up by the arms, half dragging, half carrying him along. The Intelligence could wait.

A bloody trail was painting the ground behind the two of you as you pulled him along. As a Scout, you knew nearly every shortcuts and hidden places of every battlement you were dumped in, and you were grateful for that as you passed several trailer carts. The song of war was more muffled and harder to hear, since no one ever came by here. With a huff, you laid the RED runner down and checked his wounds, swallowing back any bile that threatened to rise.

The wound on his back was the worst and most recent. You hissed, imagining the pain, before pulling your backpack off and fumbling with the contents inside. Your aluminium bat clattered onto the floor, followed by at least three cans of BONK! Atomic Punch. Organizing weapons weren't really the most important things to you as long as you could grab something fast, and by now you somewhat regretted that habit.

Finally, your fingers grasped something hard and box-like and you pulled out a health kit with triumph. Even though you knew that Mann Co.'s crazy products could do magic, you were still hurried. Sure, health packs healed fast, but pain still sucks.

Your hands were deft in their work, cleaning the wound and bandaging it up nicely. You placed the first-aid box down with a smile, dusting your hands, then frowning at your blood-soaked bandages. Would it affect your grip?

With a sigh, you shifted from your earlier kneeling position to sit down, legs crossed. "Well, even though the health isn't the best, at least he'll live, right?" you asked out loud to no one in particular. It's... comforting, somehow, especially since it had been a long time since you heard anything near quiet. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before your gaze returned to check the RED Scout next to you.

His ice-blue eyes stared right back.

"Whoa!" You jumped back by instincts, startled. It took you a moment to settle back down, and all that while the RED sat upright. You smile nervously. "Since when-"

"Since always," he cut you short, twisting his head to check his back-the medication worked like a miracle. "Don't I get any thanks fah savin' ya life?" He shot you a smirk, a mix of obnoxiousness and pride, yet it looked childish and playful. Somehow that made your cheeks burn, but you couldn't tell if it was anger, annoyance, or something else.

"Don't I get any thanks for fixing you up?" you retorted, leaning back one a hand and toying with your baseball bat with the other. "Unless you would prefer for me to give you back those wounds..." you trailed off with a grin.