I do not own Red vs Blue. RvB belongs to Rooster Teeth.
He was about fifteen-years-old when he saw the flashing red and blue behind him for the first time. The freeway was slightly snow-covered with more accumulating by the second. He glanced at his speedometer to read that it did indeed say 83.
He'd gotten a little nervous after robbing a local mom and pops store and must have unknowingly pushed the accelerator too long. He was faced with the split second dilemma: pick up speed and try to outrun the cop or slowdown and try to talk his way out of a ticket before the cop figures out he's wanted. With his beater of a truck in which the heating didn't even work, he decided he'd try option b.
Pushing down the brake, he guided the car toward the shoulder.
However, the pickup seemed to want to keep turning, and, against his will, it started into a spin on the snowy road. The truck completed about a full circle before the concrete wall of the median stopped it short.
He was shook around a little, but it wasn't all that hard of an impact. The cop got out of his car and ran up to the window with a flashlight.
"Are you alright, kid?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, officer."
"Alright. I'm going to need to see your drivers license and registration."
"I left that at home, sir."
"Alright. What's your name?"
"Do you have a last name?"
"Not one that I'd like to be associated with."
His scum parents didn't ever do anything for him. They neglected him. Their obsession with the army and other military events caused them to have to be gone several months at a time. He'd be lucky if he saw his parents for a few days straight. Sometimes he'd just come home to a pile of money on the table. Like that somehow substituted for all that lost time they didn't care to spend with him.
"You realize that I'm going to have to take you in to the station?"
"Just because I don't have a license?"
"And you're refusing to give me a last name, and for speeding."
"But I'm not eighteen."
"Your punishment will be decided later. Right now, your driving is a danger to others around you. I'm not going to let you drive home. We'll give your parents a call at the station, and they can come pick you up. Please step out of the car."
He obeyed reluctantly. Soon enough they would find to whom the truck really belonged to and the pile of money in the back and the fact he didn't even have a driving permit. Yeah. The only thing he didn't have to worry about was his parents' reactions. It'd be a miracle if they could even be reached.
He walked sunkenly to the cop's car.
"I'm going to search you for security purposes. Do you have any weapons or sharp objects on you?"
"No, sir." He said, as the cop stopped him in front of the police car and patted him down.
As he was being searched, he watched the passing cars gawk at him. They were driving slower to see what was going on. One car, in particular, seemed to be even changing lanes so they could see what was going on from even closer. The thing was, they didn't stop. They kept coming toward him when he realized with a heart-stopping jolt that the car must have hit the same patch of ice that he did. The car started to spin out of control, careening full tilt toward them.
He didn't have time to prepare as he stood deer-in-headlights style, watching the oncoming car. The cop, however, did react.
He pushed him onto the top of the police car's hood just before the car slammed into the cop, where he was just standing, and rammed the median but leaving the police car untouched.
He just lay there on the hood of the car before he realized what just happened. He jumped off and ran to the cop's side. The cop was bleeding horribly from a head wound, and his arm wasn't bending the right way.
"Are you alright?!" He asked frantically.
"Yeah. I just –ouch! I just need someone to call an ambulance." He stammered, as he handed him his radio thing that was attached to his belt.
He pushed the talk button and the device rose to life.
"Hello? I need an ambulance! There's been a wreck at mile marker 43! Send help now!"
The radio roared back at him that they were on their way.
Now he was just left waiting with cop and the driver from the other car. The other driver was fine, just a little stunned.
"I'm so sorry! I- I hit some black ice. Is he gonna be okay? I saw him push you out of the way. He probably saved your life, kid!" The other driver said.
"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!"
He couldn't help but think that he should have tried something to save the police officer.
If one person who didn't even know him was going to risk his life for him, he could have done the same for him in return!
"What are you sorry for, kid? Did you not want me to save you?" The cop teased even though he was bleeding what seemed like a red waterfall.
His eyes started to well up. He didn't deserve to be saved like that. This cop was a good guy and he was a criminal. It would have been some sort of nature's justice that he be hit by the car instead. But no. The virtuous police officer had to take the blow for him.
"But, sir, I robbed a store two hours ago! I stole that truck right out of someone's drive way! I'm fifteen years old and driving without a permit! I haven't even taken driver's ed! My name is James Harmon, and my parents are never home. I'm sorry, sir! Please, take me to jail or something! I'm so sorry!"
He felt like he couldn't be anything but completely honest with the guy that just saved his life. He suddenly became indebted to this cop. He just wanted to get what he deserved now.
The cop reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
"There's a picture of my son in here somewhere," the cop said, as his fingers struggled to pull out a small photo of a blonde boy with a stupid haircut. "His name's David. He's about your age. You'd probably get along great. He attends the military academy in the city. He really enjoys it there. Although he says the food there's the worst cafeteria food ever. Of all time. You should check it out when your parents are in town. It might be just the place for you. Good education, friends, and a team to be a part of. It'd give you something to do instead of stealing cars and robbing stores." The cop laughed cordially.
He wasn't sure he'd be caught dead involved in any sort of military thing. However, when he got to the station, they did end up reaching his parents. Apparently, the cop had called to tell the officers there to tell his parents that he recommended him for that academy. The courts later agreed with the cop, and that became his sentence. The rest of his education was to be completed at that military school.
He, ironically, ended up excelling at the school. Who knew lock picking was actually a valued skill? They just call it by a fancier name: infiltration.
He kept excelling in the military. The UNSC even recommended him for a special ops unit called Project Freelancer.
Yet, York, as he was now called, found himself reliving those days of his youth. How he felt when the police were chasing him. He a criminal and they law enforcers just doing their job: getting justice back in the world.
Maybe that's why the same thought never seemed to leave his head while he was working for the new Project: they were the good guys…right?