A/N: HEY-OHHHHH! I'm back! Sorry for such a long disappearance, but I swear it's not because I got lazy! *coughyesididcough*

So anyways. let's get started with chapter nine!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own Red vs Blue! Just the OCs.

WARNING: RATED FOR BLOOD, GORE, LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, ANNOYING AIS AND CABOOSE.

(P.S) Sorry for the crappy formatting, but I always type on my iPad and edit in FF. XD

Hunted

Chapter 9: Arrival at Laekna

For once, the small shuttle was quiet. Des relished the silence as he reclined in the pilots chair, his green helmet illuminated by the soft green and orange lights of the dashboard before him. Beyond the thick glass of the HUD, the great expanse of space lay before him in a never ending stretch of star studded black. The rear of the shuttle was filled with the sleeping and slumped over bodies of the Blood Gulch crew and his partner. He swiveled around to survey the scene, unable to help himself from smirking. Sarge was rigidly sitting up straight, clutching his shotgun close to his chest, helmet slowly dipping forward as his body relaxed.

Next to him, Simmons was slumped over to one side, mumbling under his breath as his hand twitched. The other was pressed against the glass of the life saving tube Grif was in, softly glowing with the low hum of the machines lulling him to sleep. Des turned his head to Mitch, shaking his helmet with an imperceptible sigh. Mitch sat next to Caboose's tube, arms crossed over his chest and chin resting against her white chest plate. She was just barely sleeping, dancing on the line between light sleep and REM sleep.

It was a technique both knew, but Mitch always seemed to be able to keep herself ready. Des supposed that it was due to the fact that for many years, she had been running through battlefields and hunkering in whatever shelter she could find while she treated the wounded. It had to be hell, Des thought, to sleep through the sounds of death and the screams of bullets in the air while she was next to a moaning soldier who was most likely on the brink of death. It made Des shudder at the thought. Soldiers took the brunt of the carnage of war, but the medics had to clean up after them.

The dashboard beeped shrilly and suddenly, breaking Des away from further depressing thoughts. Settling down in the worn and battered captains chair, a holographic image of their destination flickered to life in front of his visor. The Laekna REM facility was shaped like a massive orb, rotating slowly within the embrace of three gravitating rings around its core. The whole facility pivoted around a needle like object, looking ominous in the dark expanse of space. Small lights flickered in and out of existence as the great rings moved, a mesmerizing dance of light and darkness. Even abandoned, it still moved and thrived in its lonely corner of space. Shuffling from the back alerted Des that his passengers had awoken, and were blearily trying to regain sense of their surroundings.

"We'll be docking in five minutes. I don't know what the condition of the facility is, so everyone should wear their helmets until we find out." Des reported sternly. His only reply was the hissing of helmets engaging and the medical transport tubes sealing up for life support.

"Holy shit, that place looks huge!" Simmons blurted out from the back, his visor transfixed on the eternally twirling entity that was Laekna. He peered through the windshield in awe as they approached the dilapidated docking bay, which hung from the main body of Laekna like a weeping branch. Des skillfully brought the shuttle alongside the dank dock, calmly and patiently waiting for the withered clamps to attach themselves to the dented sides of the shuttle. When the door opened up to expose the dock's long hallway, the group was met with a never ending tube of darkness. Lights wheezed faintly in the dark corners of the tube, casting naught but an inch of light into the abyss. The creaking of the damaged dock filled the air, making Sarge and Simmons think twice about leaving the relative safety of the shuttle.

"I think I'll stay here...and guard the shuttle." Simmons said weakly, only to be met with a shove from Mitch that sent him reeling into the dank dock. He screamed girlishly, tumbling head over heals across the metal plating until he landed with a graceless thud face first on the floor.

"Don't be such a baby. We've come this far, don't wimp out now." Mitch called from the shuttle, helmet lights blaring to life. Carefully, she maneuvered the two life support tubes out of the shuttle, where they hovered above the ground almost hypnotically.

"Simmons, Sarge, take the front while I take rear. Keep a sharp eye out for anything suspicious. This station may be abandoned, but take no chances." Des ordered sternly as the shuttle hissed shut behind them and thrust the small group into a small halo of light that came from the life pods. Simmons gulped nervously as he picked himself from the ground and flicked his helmet lights on, seeing nothing but a long dungeon of darkness.

They traversed in silence down the long docking tube, punctuated only by the clanking off metal covered boots stomping against rusted flooring. Simmons squinted down the tube of darkness, searching for the sealed door that led into the actual facility. He picked up his pace, only to run right into the door itself with Sarge barreling in right behind him. Both Reds fell to the ground with a whump, causing Sarge to make a disgruntled sound.

"Simmons! What'd ya run into that door for?" Sarge barked, standing up quickly to glare at his subordinate.

"Sorry! I didn't see it..." Simmons offered weakly, though he mumbled a 'why didn't you watch where you were going?' under his breath before clambering to his feet. The door slid away, revealing a blissfully lighted hallway. The group spilled into it, filling the wide hallway easily.

"Mitch, get to the medical bay, it shouldn't be too far from here. Sarge, Simmons, I want you to secure this hallway around it." Des ordered, pointing to a map of the station by the door they had just passed through.

"I'm going to secure this outer ring. If we're lucky, maybe we'll find so extra supplies. And stay alert on the radio. We don't know what could be lurking here." Des said. With hardly a murmur, the Spartans parted to their designated areas. Simmons glanced at Mitch's retreating form, wishing that he was going with her instead before she disappeared around the corner with Caboose and Grif's unconscious bodies. At first, Sarge and Simmons traveled in complete silence down the hallway, pushing over crates on occasion and perusing through abandoned cases. They meandered through the hall, finding nothing of interest except a few preserved packages of Twinkies.

"Hey Des, our hallway is secure. Anything else we need to do?" Simmons asked.

"Try and get into the central tower of the station. The control room should be in there. Maybe we can try and restore some of the vital areas, at least while we're here." Des replied. Simmons sighed as the radio went silent, kicking over a stray crate in his path.

"Hey Sarge, the Freelancer wants us to go to the central tower!" Simmons called down the hallway to his superior. He was met with a loud whoop and a bang. Simmons flinched as a bullet ricocheted around the hall and buried itself in an empty crate. Sarge came striding around the corner with a new shotgun in hand, probably grinning ear to ear behind his helmet.

"Look what I found Simmons! This shotgun has all the fixings on it! Twelve round cartridge, laser guided sight, AND it comes with these fancy bullets!" Sarge proudly proclaimed, showing off the weapon to Simmons. The maroon Spartan peered at the gun, and shook his head. On the side of the barrel, the words 'PROTOTYPE' was painted in fading white block letters.

"Sir, I don't think we should be picking up equipment we don't know about." Simmons said. Sarge scoffed and rested the shotgun against his shoulder.

"Nonsense Simmons! Finders keepers, losers weapers!" Sarge chuckled as he proudly strode over to a door leading to the central tower.

"Now let's go secure that control room!" Sarge bellowed as he marched away. Simmons sighed again, feeling a headache forming behind his eyes.

"Oh boy..." He muttered before following after his superior.

The medical bay was probably the most intact out of all the possible rooms on the station. It was situated on the lower left quadrant of the sphere, and was packed with all kinds of supplies. While Mitch was no surgeon, she knew how to operate enough of the equipment to get Caboose and Grif patched up. She deftly maneuvered the two life support carriers around until they lined up with a wicked looking machine, locking them into place. Luckily for her, there was multiple Rem Repair Machines for use in the medical bay. These machines had a plethora of tools hanging from stainless steel arms, ranging from simple scalpels, to high powered bone saws and lasers. As Mitch powered on the machines and put in the correct code for the surgery her patients would need, a pleasant and distinctly feminine voice greeted her.

"Hello, and thank you for using the Rem Repair Machine 2000. You have selected 'CRANIAL REPAIR' and 'GUN SHOT WOUND AID'. Are these choices correct?" The voice asked.

"Affirmative. Capsule one is Cranial Repair and capsule two is Gun Shot Wound Aid." Mitch confirmed. The screen before her beeped and her choices lit up in green.

"Thank you for using the Rem Repair Machine 2000. These operations will be complete in an estimated twenty minutes. Have a nice day!" The machine said, just as the arms to the machine twitched and came to life. The life support carriers hissed, and the clear tops slid away. The machine scanned the two Spartans to asses the damage, and carefully inspected each wound site. With the machine in charge, Mitch sat back on a bed and sighed.

"Des, I've got Grif and Caboose in the machines. Twenty minutes I should be done! and then we just need recovery time." The medic said.

"Alright, stay where you are until then. I'm in the outer ring right now. Sarge and Simmons are moving to the control room to try and get some extra power. Don't get into trouble." Des said sternly. Mitch cracked a grin and laughed.

"I'm not the one who gets into trouble. YOU get into trouble, I just get dragged along." Mitch replied teasingly. She heard a muffled grumble before the radio went silent. Mitch hopped from the bed and walked over to the wall, where a communications screen was glowing softly.

"Program, activate." Mitch said, wondering if the AI was still active in the station. She remembered several stations had interactive programs that staff often talked to. The screen beeped once, and a glowing white circle appeared. The same feminine voice from the machine greeted Mitch cheerily.

"Hello, and welcome to the RUTON EXPERIMENTAL MEDICINE FACILITY. I am the Interactive Medical Program. You may call me Imp. How may I help you today?" The screen said in an upbeat tone.

"Show a map of the ship with all life signs highlighted." Mitch asked.

"Complying!" The screen said, flickering briefly before a three dimensional view of the ship appeared in a mess of white glowing lines. The computer zoomed in enough, and several dots appeared.

"Eight life signs confirmed." Imp said.

"Great, now sho- wait... Eight?" Mitch said, peering at the screen. That couldn't be right!

"Me, Grif, Caboose, Des, Sarge, and Simmons...that's only seven." Mitch said, counting the number of people that SHOULD be on the ship.

"Program, run a diagnostic of your systems and refresh life signs detection program." Mitch ordered. The screen blinked once, and she was once again greeted by eight blinking dots.

"Diagnostic complete. There are no abnormalities. Eight life signs detected." Imp said cheerily, as if nothing was wrong.

"Son of a- Des!" Mitch called, turning away to turn her radio on. She was met only with static, and a cold bead of dread slid between her shoulder blades and right into the pit of her stomach.

"Program, is the station wide communications system online?" Mitch asked, whirling around to face the tiny screen.

"Laekna communications are offline. Damage to the inner array is the cause. Would you like to try a different way?" Imp asked eagerly.

"Shit!" Mitch cursed. There was interference on the radio, and the communication array for the station was damaged. She had no way to contact Des...or maybe she did.

"Program, is the station speaker still online?" She asked. It was a risky move to use the speaker, especially if the extra life sign wasn't a friendly.

"The Laekna speaker is still operational. Shall I activate it?" Imp asked.

"Yeah, go ahead and activate it." Mitch said, rolling her shoulders.

"Speaker activated! Press the green button when done please." Imp instructed.

"Des, Sarge, Simmons, it's Mitch. The radios are down and it seems the stations inter-communications array is damaged. Be warned that there is someone else on the ship. Sarge, Simmons, once Grif and Caboose are patched up, I'm going to join up with you. Be aware everyone." Mitch said, and pressed the green button.

"Is there anything else I can help with?" Imp inquired again. Imp was awfully eager to help for an AI program.

"No, I'm good for now." Mitch said, frowning deeply.

"Affirmative. I will be in sleep mode. Just say my name if you would like further help!" Imp said, before the screen blacked out. Mitch turned back to the Repair machine, hoping it was almost done.

"...Be aware everyone." Des sighed as the speaker shut off and shifted his grip on his weapon. He wished Mitch hadn't used the speaker and alerted the so called extra person on board the facility. But with the radios useless and the stations own communications damaged, he understood there had been on other way. The moment he had stepped into the current section of the ring he was in, his radio had been useless. All he could pick up was the high pitched scream of static before he finally turned the radio off.

"Alright, so we're all separated in a giant medical facility that possibly had a dangerous stranger on board, that Mitch most likely alerted with the speaker. No problem. You've handled worse Des..." The Freelancer muttered to himself as he lifted his weapon and pushed deeper into the ring. The outer ring of the Laekna space station was a veritable mess and hot spot for previous scavengers. The halls were damaged, and crates and cases were smashed open. They had been emptied for all they had, and cast aside. It was definite signs of pirates and parasites that fed off the carcasses of abandoned facilities. It wasn't uncommon, and it was the UNSC that lost out with the lost supplies and materials. But what surprised Des the most was how contained the damage was. From what he picked up, most of the scavenging had been done to the outer ring. This was unusual, in and of itself. Pirates would comb over an abandoned station and pick it clean. So why was most of the station untouched? Before Des could ponder further on the question on hand, he walked into a new section of the ring, and was greeted with a horrific sight to behold.

Des had come upon a small room, a small connector that led to the next quadrant of the ring. It was covered in the dried streaks of blood, turned an aging color of dark brown and deep burgundy. Though the room was dark, Des could make out the splatters and long slashes that bit into the metal. As he stepped forward, helmet lights glaring to life, his boot sunk into a disgustingly soft foot hold. Slowly, Des looked down, only to recoil quickly.

The floor of the small room was covered in the innards and ripped intestines of several people, bodies scattered and piled around. Their faces were ripped apart, and bodies mutilated to the point where Des barely recognized their shapes. They spilled out of abdominal cavities to pile on the floor in great bloody pools, spreading out like an forming ocean. The edges of the bloody pool was crusty and brown, cementing itself to the metal floor below. The stench was just as bad, rising up in great waves to overwhelm the Freelancer to the point where his eyes stung. Des counted at least eight corpses, but he had to assume that the remains of three others were scattered around. He stepped back from the room, letting the door close the sight off.

"This is not good." He said aloud, feeling his skin crawl with apprehension. The bodies looked partially fresh, and only one or two were in the throes of decomposition. ~I need to get back to Mitch and the others. Whatever the hell is on this ship is probably hunting us right now.~ Des thought grimly to himself as he began sprinting down the barely lit halls. His boots slammed against the rusted flooring in loud bangs, resonating about the hall in ominously. He burst through the door and jumped over knee knockers, his eyes locked on the door that led to the sphere.

"Not so fast Deeeeeesssss~" A crackled voice whispered in his ear, just as the door to the rest of the station swung forward and locked. Des cursed aloud, practically sitting on his heels to avoid running into the bulkhead. He came to a screeching halt, boots screaming in protest and sparks flying up in the air.

"Dammit!" He spat, quickly straightening up. He pulled against the bulkhead, muscles straining.

"You won't get the door open that way." It was the same voice, again speaking in his ear like a teasing sprite. Des whirled around, clutching as his gun.

"Who are you?" He growled, though he feared that he already knew the answer. Des' skin crawled as a laugh sparked in his ear, a sure smile in their voice.

"Don't you remember me Des? After all that time we spent together and you don't recognize me?" Des grimaced, dread making his chest tighten.

It was Omicron.

A/N: I'm not sorry! ...okay, maybe just a little.

GUYSSSSS! Red vs Blue season 12 premiers in just two weeks! I'm so fucking excited!

I had planned to have Hunted finished by now, but I guess it decided to live longer. XD Even after beating it with my terrible sense of humor.

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