Hawaii 5-0 fic: Evolution wins
Mar. 24th, 2014 07:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sealieH5-0 tiny mini fic
Guess the fandom crossover (Kristen999, you can’t play)
Kristen is an evul enabler
Unbeta’ed
Warning: gore
Evolution wins
By sealie
Steve ran. The exhilaration of running couldn’t be taught. You either had the love or you didn’t. He knew dedicated runners that ran every day and never found transcendence. Running in Hawaii was a special pleasure, especially when you carefully selected your time. Running as the sun rose on cool crisp mornings when most of ‘Oahu was asleep always made him feel one with the world. He had gotten up at five and drove a good hour to one of his favourite places to run. It was a dedicated trail, set up and maintained, which took a little of the magic away, but it was still deep in the reserve and rarely did he encounter any other runner, other than those that were truly here to run.
Stride economical and practised, he ran through a puddle rather than vaulting over it.
Before he knew what he was doing, he skidded to a stop, crouching in the middle of the track, reaching for the knife secured at the small of his back. Holding it low, he scanned the greenery, striving to see what had alerted him in the complexity of life around him.
The forest cadence had suddenly shifted from the familiar chitchatting to pips of alarms and worry.
He was being hunted.
He couldn’t say where and by what, but he was being observed.
The threat was palpable. No large predators walked the island. Observing implied intent. Hackles rising, Steve scrutinised the understory, clinical observation overriding instinct and emotion. A veteran? A poor soldier from a long forgotten war, or a more recent one, retreating to the forests that had created him.
A skittering thought along his nerves prompted him to climb the highest tree that he could find. It was inexplicable. Finding high ground was logical and sensible, rather than standing on an open path, out in the open. But climbing a tree? A branch on a leafy bush moved following no rhyme or reason of wind.
Steve blinked as patterns of camouflage resolved into a tall bipedal form that bore no relation to man or Hawaiian myth.
Reptilian intelligence behind obsidian eyes judged him.
Steve catalogued the elongated snout, forward facing -- predator eyes -- with a broad head large enough to house a big brain. It was tall, a good seven foot judging by the rhododendrons that partially obscured it from Steve’s scrutiny.
“Shit!” Steve ducked, and felt rather than saw, a claw swipe by him. If he hadn’t reacted the second predator would have sliced his skull from his neck. It overreached and in that moment, Steve spun down low under its deadly grasp, brought his knife up and disembowelled it from navel to sternum, if indeed it had a navel. Hot blood and entrails skittered over his knife and forearm.
One had goaded him, while the other had circled around. That spoke of planning and intelligence. Steve rolled off the track into the understory. He needed height.
A twist of coarse, entangling bush saved his life as the second predator slashed at him, but its claw was turned aside. Steve dropped and eeled under the bush. He was vulnerable; everything about being on his stomach spoke of imminent death. He caught a fallen branch, and thrust it into the face of the watcher, as it waited for him on the other side of his sanctuary. Steve got up and under its curving claws gambling a rapid death over it hunting him in a habitat in which it was perfectly camouflaged.
Its scent was heavy and musky. In a gruesome embrace, he was under its reach. As close quarter fighting went this was everything that he had trained for despite facing a monster. The eye, and the big brain behind it, was the obvious target. Striking, he had his black knife deep into its eye between harsh breaths. Gelatinous vitreous fluid coated his fist as he rotated it in a deep eye socket, as he delved for its brain. It jerked, and clawed. Fire burnt along Steve’s hip and thigh as he drew death upon it.
It went still and flopped beneath him, luckily falling backwards.
Now wasn’t the time to relax. Steve struggled out its ghastly embrace. Where there were two hunting predators there might be more.
He breathed slow and deep. Adrenalin overrode any signal that his body screamed at him. The forest around him was silent. Then the peep and chatter of a bird broke the détente. A fellow bird chattered back. And the forest came alive as if a switch had been thrown.
Danger over, the adrenalin dump sent him to his knees.
“Shit,” Steve swore. He fumbled for his iPhone tucked in the strap around his bicep. One-handed, he automatically thumbed Danny’s number as he clamped his other hand over the deep gash that rent his thigh. “Danny? Danny?”
“What is it, you moron! Have you any idea what time it is? I was asleep.”
“Danny?” Steve whispered.
“Steve? Steve? Are you all right?” The words were a balm.
“Danny, I was attacked. I need everyone.” Steve breathed hard. “SWAT. Make sure they’re armoured. I’m bleeding. I’m bleeding bad. GPS.”
“Steve?” Danny yelled, all tinny and faraway. “Steve!”
Steve let the phone fall to the earth beside him, and toppled over onto his uninjured side, trying to keep the bleeding side higher than his heart.
“Steve!”
~fin~
Guess the fandom crossover (Kristen999, you can’t play)
Kristen is an evul enabler
Unbeta’ed
Warning: gore
Evolution wins
By sealie
Steve ran. The exhilaration of running couldn’t be taught. You either had the love or you didn’t. He knew dedicated runners that ran every day and never found transcendence. Running in Hawaii was a special pleasure, especially when you carefully selected your time. Running as the sun rose on cool crisp mornings when most of ‘Oahu was asleep always made him feel one with the world. He had gotten up at five and drove a good hour to one of his favourite places to run. It was a dedicated trail, set up and maintained, which took a little of the magic away, but it was still deep in the reserve and rarely did he encounter any other runner, other than those that were truly here to run.
Stride economical and practised, he ran through a puddle rather than vaulting over it.
Before he knew what he was doing, he skidded to a stop, crouching in the middle of the track, reaching for the knife secured at the small of his back. Holding it low, he scanned the greenery, striving to see what had alerted him in the complexity of life around him.
The forest cadence had suddenly shifted from the familiar chitchatting to pips of alarms and worry.
He was being hunted.
He couldn’t say where and by what, but he was being observed.
The threat was palpable. No large predators walked the island. Observing implied intent. Hackles rising, Steve scrutinised the understory, clinical observation overriding instinct and emotion. A veteran? A poor soldier from a long forgotten war, or a more recent one, retreating to the forests that had created him.
A skittering thought along his nerves prompted him to climb the highest tree that he could find. It was inexplicable. Finding high ground was logical and sensible, rather than standing on an open path, out in the open. But climbing a tree? A branch on a leafy bush moved following no rhyme or reason of wind.
Steve blinked as patterns of camouflage resolved into a tall bipedal form that bore no relation to man or Hawaiian myth.
Reptilian intelligence behind obsidian eyes judged him.
Steve catalogued the elongated snout, forward facing -- predator eyes -- with a broad head large enough to house a big brain. It was tall, a good seven foot judging by the rhododendrons that partially obscured it from Steve’s scrutiny.
“Shit!” Steve ducked, and felt rather than saw, a claw swipe by him. If he hadn’t reacted the second predator would have sliced his skull from his neck. It overreached and in that moment, Steve spun down low under its deadly grasp, brought his knife up and disembowelled it from navel to sternum, if indeed it had a navel. Hot blood and entrails skittered over his knife and forearm.
One had goaded him, while the other had circled around. That spoke of planning and intelligence. Steve rolled off the track into the understory. He needed height.
A twist of coarse, entangling bush saved his life as the second predator slashed at him, but its claw was turned aside. Steve dropped and eeled under the bush. He was vulnerable; everything about being on his stomach spoke of imminent death. He caught a fallen branch, and thrust it into the face of the watcher, as it waited for him on the other side of his sanctuary. Steve got up and under its curving claws gambling a rapid death over it hunting him in a habitat in which it was perfectly camouflaged.
Its scent was heavy and musky. In a gruesome embrace, he was under its reach. As close quarter fighting went this was everything that he had trained for despite facing a monster. The eye, and the big brain behind it, was the obvious target. Striking, he had his black knife deep into its eye between harsh breaths. Gelatinous vitreous fluid coated his fist as he rotated it in a deep eye socket, as he delved for its brain. It jerked, and clawed. Fire burnt along Steve’s hip and thigh as he drew death upon it.
It went still and flopped beneath him, luckily falling backwards.
Now wasn’t the time to relax. Steve struggled out its ghastly embrace. Where there were two hunting predators there might be more.
He breathed slow and deep. Adrenalin overrode any signal that his body screamed at him. The forest around him was silent. Then the peep and chatter of a bird broke the détente. A fellow bird chattered back. And the forest came alive as if a switch had been thrown.
Danger over, the adrenalin dump sent him to his knees.
“Shit,” Steve swore. He fumbled for his iPhone tucked in the strap around his bicep. One-handed, he automatically thumbed Danny’s number as he clamped his other hand over the deep gash that rent his thigh. “Danny? Danny?”
“What is it, you moron! Have you any idea what time it is? I was asleep.”
“Danny?” Steve whispered.
“Steve? Steve? Are you all right?” The words were a balm.
“Danny, I was attacked. I need everyone.” Steve breathed hard. “SWAT. Make sure they’re armoured. I’m bleeding. I’m bleeding bad. GPS.”
“Steve?” Danny yelled, all tinny and faraway. “Steve!”
Steve let the phone fall to the earth beside him, and toppled over onto his uninjured side, trying to keep the bleeding side higher than his heart.
“Steve!”
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no subject
Date: 2014-03-24 10:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-25 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-24 01:34 pm (UTC)I hope there is more to the story. It would be nice to know if Steve is going to be okay.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-25 08:23 pm (UTC)INCONCEIVABLE
no subject
Date: 2014-03-25 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-25 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-24 03:41 pm (UTC)As you know I ate this up. The descriptions are so visceral. I love how Steve's instincts and training kicked in during the attack, hitting all my buttons. But now, he's all lone, with Danny's voice and bleeding out. Bad author! :)
no subject
Date: 2014-03-25 08:29 pm (UTC)hehehe.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-24 04:57 pm (UTC)PS Glad to see you back in whumpy style-missed the fic!
no subject
Date: 2014-03-25 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-27 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-29 03:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-06 09:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-04-04 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-04-12 04:02 pm (UTC)I find that that happens. I have Highlander Supernatural xo which is concrete in my head, but I haven't written a single word down.
no subject
Date: 2015-04-12 01:12 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2015-04-12 04:00 pm (UTC)