(Bad Batch) Hunter x Reader: Off the Grid - Part 1
(Author’s Note: Well, here it is! Part 1 of the Off the Grid series!
Hunter lives a secluded cabin life in the wilderness. Sometimes he catches the rest of the Batch on the radio waves or visits every now and then. He likes his life, but sometimes he can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have a family.
But the harsh, secluded life he lives with his squad is no place for a wife and kids... Until one day Reader and Omega stumble onto his land. They're on the run, and their past is shrouded in mystery, but he offers them shelter and protection. The Batch comes to their aid, and Hunter gets a taste of the family life he’s been dreaming of.
Word Count: 1,366
Warnings: None)
The wind gave one last howl as Hunter shut the front door behind him. Inside, he was met with the toasty warmth of his cabin’s interior provided by the wood stove located in the corner of the main room. The blizzard sounded so far away as the familiar crackle of wood filled the room along with Hunter’s heavy breaths as he winded down from the trip to the outhouse.
He kicked the boots from his feet, careful to avoid stepping in the melting snow that seeped into the doormat with his wool socks on, and shrugged out of his coat.
It was an unexpected storm blowing through, but fortunately, Hunter was always prepared. He always kept a store of dry firewood in the supply room, and there was always plenty of ingredients for meals. Not to mention he had quite literally a pot to piss in. If need be, he could remain inside for the next few days or so.
Hunter’s sharp eyes flickered to the radio permanently set up on the end of his kitchen counter. There would be no way to reach the others at that point with the storm being so bad. He wished that he hadn’t missed the meeting earlier. Tech most likely warned any listeners about the freak storm.
Hunter hung his coat and moseyed over to the pot resting on top of the wood stove. Lifting the lid, he breathed in the delicious scent that wafted out. It was a simple stew containing potatoes and carrots that he’d peeled and sliced, chopped venison, onions, and a bone broth that he had pre-made. It was the simplicity of the dish that made it a favorite of his. Hunter had it for dinner at least a few times a week. It was so easy to make and freeze for later dates, too.
Hunter sprinkled in some salt and pepper before dipping the ladle in and giving the soup a taste.
“Not bad,” he said aloud with a grunt of approval.
A few minutes later, Hunter was seated in his recliner by the wood stove with a bowl of soup in hand. There was no television to watch. No radio to listen to at the moment due to the poor weather. There was only an old newspaper from a few weeks before to look through for entertainment. Hunter’s eyes roamed each page intensely as he took spoonfuls of soup. His brows furrowed as he read through the bad news such as thefts and scandals. He skimmed through the real estate section, pausing to get a better look at the entry about a particularly nice home with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. At some point, Hunter found himself staring at a relationship column. There were letters from men and women from all walks of life including newlyweds, dating, long term marriages, and even one-sided crushes looking for advice.
There was one entry written by a lady with a phone number at the bottom asking for any interested parties to give her a call. Hunter mulled over the notion, his head filling with fantasies of what would happen if he did make the call. Maybe she would admire his off-the-grid lifestyle. Maybe they’d get along really well. Maybe he could make her laugh and she could make him smile. Maybe they’d get married, and love would forever dwell in his cabin.
Hunter shook his head, turning the page.
Ridiculous, he thought to himself. This existence of mine doesn’t exactly mix with the quintessential family life.
The sooner he accepted that, the better. The sooner he accepted the role of loner, perhaps it’d be easier to find happiness right where he was.
Just like every other evening in the cabin, Hunter added another couple of logs to the stove, dimmed his lanterns, and crawled into the sleeping bag on his bed. There’d be plenty to do in the morning. No time to feel sad over things he’d probably never have.
- - - - - - - - - - -
The blizzard had passed by the early afternoon that next day. Snow was falling steadily, building up the white blanket that covered everything in sight outside Hunter’s chilly glass window. He donned his coat and boots to trudge out to the in-ground freezer for a few ingredients. It took a few minutes to uncover the lid in the snow, but he finally was able to fish out some venison sausage patties and a couple of eggs. As much as he enjoyed his soup, his mouth was basically watering as he set the ingredients down inside and shrugged off his outerwear to cook.
While the pan heated up over the wood stove, Hunter sat down with the same newspaper from the night before. His eyes skimmed over the phone number from the night before, and he shook his head. What silly notions he had entertained himself with. Hunter chalked it up to be merely a moment of weakness brought on by the lonely, winter evening. Nevermind that an echo of the ache still remained in his chest.
He rolled up the newspaper and headed over to unlatch the door to the woodstove and toss it in. He followed it with a new log of firewood, and closed the door with a sigh.
“Wonder what the boys are up to,” he muttered. The weather should be clear enough to get a good signal after brunch. A little while later, Hunter pulled up a stool to the kitchen counter with his plate of eggs and sausage on one side and the radio on the other. He dialed up the volume.
“This is Hunter checking in,” he spoke into the mic. “I repeat, this is Hunter checking in. Does anyone read me?”
“This is Tech, reading you loud and clear. “Say, how was your evening, Sergeant?”
Hunter cracked a smile, but kept his voice even. “It was like any other. What’s it to you?”
“No unusual storms?”
“Well, there may have been a storm.”
“I spread the word during yesterday’s radio meeting. You were not in attendance, and there was concern that you would not have enough time to prepare.”
And there it is.
“I’m always prepared, Tech,” he replied. “But I will try and tune in next time. The information would’ve been helpful.”
“Indeed,” Tech’s voice crackled over the slight static.
“Any word from the others since the storm?” Hunter asked.
“Echo checked in this morning, and Wrecker did a few minutes ago. Both are fine. Nothing from Crosshair so far.”
Hunter nodded at the information. “Hardly a surprise.” He picked up his fork and started scooping up a sunny side up egg. “Was there any other vital information I missed at the meeting?”
“There is a missing person report, or rather, a missing people report.” There was a brief crinkling sound accompanied by static. “It’s a few towns over. Local authorities are on the lookout for a woman and child that have been missing since Tuesday.”
Hunter swallowed a forkful of his meal and sighed quietly at the news. It was highly unlikely that anyone would venture that far north to where Hunter and his brothers lived, but they all kept an eye out for anything just in case. Runaways and anyone who did happen to get lost in the woods would not last very long in the harsh conditions as the colder weather set in.
“And what of you?” Tech asked. “Anything to report from your neck of the woods?”
Hunter lowered his fork. “Nothing today.”
“Alright then, I suppose I’ll leave you to it. Have a good afternoon. Contact me if there is anything you need. Tech, over and out.”
“Copy that. Hunter, over and out.”
He sat in silence for a few minutes as he dialed down the radio volume. It would be just loud enough for him to pick up any incoming messages without disrupting his day. Hunter finished his brunch, scarfing down every last morsel. It was a good, hearty meal that would give him plenty of protein for the level of activity he’d be reaching. Hunter had already decided to chop some more firewood. There could never be too much, after all. Then perhaps, he’d get some laundry done.
Just another day.
