Red vs. Blue Oneshots

Maine x Freelancer! Reader

Logbook Entry 1

York stumbled backward, Delta's call only giving him mere milliseconds to avoid being plowed over.

"Ack!" You yelled apologetically. "Sorry York! Sorry Delta!" Running down the hallways of the M.O.I., otherwise known as the Mother of Invention, sparks flew as your armour clashed with the metallic flooring.

"Why is she-" York was cut off by Delta saying, "Don't ask." The two of them silently, as well as quickly, agreed to never mention this incident to anyone. Ever. At all. You were a different story though.

The Freelancer known as (Y/n) was running down the halls of the M.O.I. shrieking at the top of their lungs.

"WASH!" You yelled, drifting to the corner. "LOOK OUT!" The said Freelancer looked up from his training exercise. He barely jumped out of the way, even as skilled as he was.

He was about to continue the practice until another Freelancer charged forward, sending Agent Washington flying in the air and landing on his back.

"Owwwww," whined Wash, who gave up on getting back up and trying to continue training.

Maine ran behind you, right on your tail.

"HAIIIII!" You yelped in fear as he made a grab for you. Maine hissed a growl under his breath, picking himself back up and continuing his chase.

"NOOO!" You screamed as Sigma, Maine's A.I. popped up in front of you. "SIGMA I DON'T WANNA DIE!"

Maine arrived behind you moments later, huffing from the three-hour-long chase you made him run.

"I do not think I would be able to, even I tried," stated Sigma smoothly, smirking.

By now pretty much every single Freelancer with their A.I.s had watched.

"What the hell is happening?" Yelled Carolina. Maine growled. She looked at Wash to translate, but you took the liberty of doing so.

"Okay okay, I admit it!" Wyoming raised an eyebrow. "I painted your Brute Shot pink, alright? Happy now?" You pleaded to the Freelancer that had you pinned to the floor.

Maine nodded and released you from his grip. A rather smug aura surrounded him as he slowly walked back to the room that he shared with Wash.

Logbook Entry 2

It had been 3 days since your 'incident' with Maine. 'Incident' as in you had painted his Brute Shot neon pink in permanent paint. Let's just say that Maine had the time of his life scraping the paint off of his weapon.

And you yourself had been forced to go through too many training sessions to count. The Director was not at all pleased with you as well, to say the least.

Here you were again, running down the halls of the M.O.I., away from Maine once more.

"HAIII!" Maine tried to grab your arm, but you moved it out of the way just in time.

"GET HER GOD DAMMIT!" Yelled South, who was right behind Maine, her brother North not much farther behind the two.

Wash and York sat to the side, watching the scene play out in front of them. Like in any cliché movie, you tripped and fell flat on your face.

Turning over, you were met by a very angry Maine and Sigma. You grabbed the Brute Shot from your back and held in in your hands.

"Mine," Maine growled.

"Mine!" You yelled back. Maine shook his head in amusement.

"Mine," he growled again.

"Just give him the damn thing!" Ordered Wash, walking up to us. North and South stepped back, giving us three a bit of space.

"Screw you," you spat playfully as you handed Maine back his Brute Shot. Well, more like 'handed' as in tossed it in the air and hightailed it out of there as fast as you could run.

Logbook Entry 3

It had been the day you were dreading. It had been the day Maine was waiting for. It had been the most anticipated match so far on the Mother of Invention.

It was the day just so happened to be your fighting match against Maine.

"God I am so not looking forward to getting the living shit beaten outta me today," you whined to C.T.

Connie just laughed and waved it off. "Good luck, and don't die!" She yelled, running back up the stairs so she could watch the fight.

Groaning, you enter the room. Maine was sitting down on the other end of the room with a gun.

"Awww FUCK!" You hissed to no one. It was that stupid paint-ball thing, with that damn paint that turns your admit as hard as a rock. Literally.

Looking over, you could have sworn to the Heavens above that Maine was smirking beneath his helmet. He had probably been waiting to extract something sweet and lovely called 'dear revenge'.

Once you had grabbed your gun and switched out the ammo, the match had begun. And that led you to where you were today - running through the training room away from Maine as you shot, and missed, at the Freelancer.

You were sitting on top of one of the raised pillars, clutching into a gun in each hand. Maine moved slowly beneath you, slower than a snail. You were dying of anticipation, knowing that there was more to his plan than waiting. A paintball fired in your direction. You managed to dodge it by the skin of your teeth.

Now spanned out of your thoughts, you were running across the training room, jumping from pillar to pillar. More shots were fired, and even more, were missed.

Through the glass, you could hear pounding on the metal. You looked up at the spectator area and saw C.T. pointing to your left. Your turn was a moment too slow, and the blob of hardening paint caught your suit's leg.

Now immobilized, you quickly switched your movements to a more aggressive offense, rapidly firing at the Freelancer agent. He replayed you by sending more bullets raining down on you.

One of your shots did manage to hit him though. His entire body was pinned to the one side of a pillar he was running. That victory was short-lived though, seeing as he continued to assault you with bullets. One clipped your helmet.

Unfortunately for you, you were yet again a moment too slow. Failing to remove your helmet in time, your entire head was covered up and closed off any vision from the outside world.

Another hit to your chest send you reeling back and over the edge of the elevated floor you were standing in. A thud echoed throughout the room.

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"Maine!" Carolina barked at the Freelancer who was sitting next to your cot. He growled softly and pointed at your sleeping form. She sighed. "Maine!" She hissed again, only quieter this time.

"You are supposed to train her, not kill her!" The armored woman yelled, motioning to your unconscious form.

"I know!" Maine growled. Carolina wished that Wash was around so that he could translate.

"You just better hope she forgives you," She added right before she left the medical wing. Maine was left to his thoughts once more. Carolina was right- he only hoped that you would forgive him.