Red vs. Blue: Unleashed

Tracking a Target... Terribly

"People from your species are the only ones with the ability to activate Forerunner artifacts of any time. Why that is, I'm not entirely certain, seeing as my older memories memories have begun to corrupt over time," explained the Monitor.

"And that's why we're called Reclaimers, then?" Simmons asked to clarify.

"Precisely."

Church, however, was skeptical. "You said your memory is starting to corrupt. That doesn't exactly make you the most reliable source of information, Guilty Spark," he uttered.

"That is absolutely true. Although, I don't see anyone else here, nor have I seen another Forerunner construct in... it must have been millenia," Spark objected.

"You make a fair point, but also, you've made me want to take myself out before the Flood can."

Simmons pushed Church aside, much to the other's annoyance. "Hey, what the fuck do you-"

"I think you're both getting a little heated right now, so I think it's best if I break this up now instead of-"

"Simmons, I swear to God, your armor won't be the only red thing on you if you do that shit again!"

"Okay. Nevermind then. You two carry on."

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Endless fog. Tucker was afraid that there wasn't anything beyond it, just endless mist obscuring endless trees. Occasionally, they'd run into a zombie, and then Sarge would blow its head off. Thank God for that shotgun.

"I think this is a bad time to tell you, but I've run out of ammo."

Fuck.

"Oh, what the fuck?! Why didn't you tell us you were low before?"

"And give you Blues the knowledge that you had a strategic advantage? Why in Sam Hill would we do something as stupid as that?"

Tucker had reached his limit.

"Oh, my God, will you QUIT IT WITH THIS RED VS BLUE BULLSHIT?! WE'RE BEING HUNTED DOWN BY ALIEN ZOMBIES AND SHIT! WE NEED TO DEAL WITH THAT FIRST, SO JUST FUCKING QUIT IT!"

Silence.

"Well, when you say it like that... It does make a lot more sense to form a temporary alliance to defend against this unknown threat that could certainly kill us all... But where's the excitement in that?!"

"You know what? Fuck! That! We need to figure out a way to not fucking die, so that's what we're going to do! We're going to survive! No more red versus blue bullshit, no more being fucking retarded, just survival! That's what our lives are now, so we need to... live... with it... fuck, that sounded way cooler in my head."

Tucker could very clearly see the worried expression on Doc's face, even through the visor. "Well, we're screwed."

"Don't even start, Doc! You're scared of blood! How could any soldier survive when scared of blood?" Sarge asked rhetorically.

"I'm not a soldier, I'm a medic."

"Even fucking worse! How can a doctor be scared of blood? How would you save anyone like that?!" Tucker blurted.

"Once again; I'm a medic, not a doctor."

"Well, what's the fucking difference?!"

"A doctor cures people. A medic just makes them feel more comfortable when they die."

Tucker didn't respond for a few seconds.

"Reminder to self: don't ever get shot."

"That's probably a good idea. I barely have any medical knowledge anyway," Doc commented.